America's Trust (3 page)

He recognized the National Building Museum directly ahead as he stepped outside. He’d never had a chance to visit but had always wanted to. Another thing to add to the quickly filling list of things he had always wished he had done. With each step, it seemed he had done less and less with his life. He tried to remain strong. He thought of the people through the ages being marched proudly to their deaths. Fighting for what they believed in, dying for their cause.
Fucking idiots
, he thought angrily while trying to remain ramrod straight and defiant to the last.

As he neared the top step, his resolve began to waver. Less than ten yards separated him from the ominous black car, its engine humming in the silence of the night while its tail lights emitted a bloody glow that cut through the early morning haze. Agent Smith stretched out and guided Tom down the stairs, his powerful hand bearing more weight than either he or Tom would acknowledge. As Smith helped Tom, Chan raced ahead and opened the rear door. There was no interior light. Great care had been taken to ensure the light had been extinguished. Another sign that Tom’s fate was imminent.

As they neared the car, Smith’s hand moved from near Tom’s waist to his head, gently guiding it lower and lower as he maneuvered Tom into the back seat.

“
What the fuck do you mean he’s been released?!” screamed Special Agent Jane Swanson.

She hung up in disgust and punched the steering wheel in frustration. She wasn’t interested in listening to the agent’s groveling bullshit of an excuse. He should have fucking well checked with her. She was a rising star but a blighted one. Her anger issues were legendary, as was her profanity. Her ability to solve cases and get her man was surpassed only by her ability to piss off every member of her team and most of the command structure. Luckily for her, she was hated slightly less than she was feared.

She had been promoted and demoted with regularity and was in a current positive trend - the promotions outweighed the demotions. There was very little doubt that her successes were all that stood between her and the unemployment queue. She was a handful and a loud one, but she was also usually the smartest and quickest in the room. Conformity was most definitely not her strong suit. A trait the FBI craved in 99% of its agents, the 1% being the acceptable tolerance of brilliance. There was no disputing Jane’s brilliance; it was just whether one day her behavior would outshine it. When that day came, she and the FBI would part company, more than likely, not amicably.

She floored the accelerator and her Audi RS4 station wagon exploded to life. The 450bhp of power bit down into the four-wheel drive train and powered the family size car as though it were an Indie racecar. Jane Swanson loved the wolf in sheep’s clothing and the RS4 rocketed in a matter of seconds to over 100 mph. The roads, at 4:00 a.m., were empty. She hit the switch and ignited her blue strobes just in case, and had the added security of knowing the ceramic brakes would ensure she stopped quicker than she accelerated, should the need arise.

The RS4 wasn’t cheap, but with no plans for marriage or kids and an inheritance from her grandparents burning a hole in her pockets, she had taken one look and thought what the hell? If ever a car had been built for Jane, it was the RS4. They were just meant to be together.

She called the office back. The adrenaline rush from the acceleration had calmed her mood.

“Don’t let them leave before I get there!” she demanded.

“They’ve already gone. One of the agents had left his ID and I just gave it back to them as they left the building,” offered the helpful agent nervously.

“Shit!” she yelled, more in frustration than anger. “I’m heading East on G, were they pointed North or South on 4
^th
?”

“North in a Chrysler 300,” replied the agent, watching the car pull away on the CCTV system that covered every inch of the building and its perimeter. “Jesus!” screamed the agent jumping out of his seat.

Tom was forced in beside the smiling Chan, his hand resting close to the pistol that he had so nearly utilized just moments earlier. As the door shut behind him, Tom feared the worst and sucked up every piece of courage his body could muster, which was very little. The front door opened and the large frame of Smith folded itself into the cramped front seat.

No sooner had the door closed, the car began to glide away from the curb. Smith swiveled around in his seat and facing Tom, revealed a small, almost ludicrously sized pistol poking out of his right hand. Of course, in Chan’s hand, the gun would have looked almost normal. In Smith’s hand, the small .22 caliber pistol just looked wrong. However, at close quarters, it was an excellent kill weapon, causing only a small entry wound, no exit wound and enough power in the bullet to rattle around in the brain cavity ensuring a fairly quick and painless death. Tom knew he wouldn’t even bleed much. The heart would just stop pumping and the blood would remain in situ. As clean a kill as you could get with a gun.

Tom braced himself for the bullet’s impact and closed his eyes. Being thrown forward and realizing he was being thrown forward was the last thing he had expected.

“Just what in the fuck do you guys think you’re playing at?!” screamed Swanson, jumping from her car. She had driven straight towards the Chrysler as it had attempted to exit 4
^th
Street. Her ceramic brakes had been the difference between emergency braking and an emergency call out.

“What are
we
playing at?!” screamed the driver in response, rising shakily from his seat, pointing at her car just an inch from his bumper. “You nearly killed us all!”

“Don’t be a fucking drama queen!” she chided, brushing past the driver towards the rear of the car and pulling open the door.

“Mr. Butler?” she asked stretching out her hand.

Tom opened his eyes for the first time and looked into the eyes of his savior. Unrestrained by a seat belt, he had hammered into the back of the front seat. He shook his head in an attempt to understand exactly what had just happened. Agent Chan, it seemed, was in a similar condition. He looked on in a daze as he also had hammered into the seat in front. However, whereas others were simply dazed, Agent Smith poured blood. His lip and nose had split due to the small .22 caliber pistol slamming into his face as his unrestrained body had also been thrown forwards in the car. The windscreen barely restrained the giant form of Smith as his outstretched hand containing the small pistol finally caught up. The irony was not lost on Tom as he began to fully understand the picture in front of him. The small weapon chosen for its lack of bloodletting had created a geyser in Smith’s nose.

Tom smiled and accepted Swanson’s outstretched hand.

Chan was quick to recover. “He has been released, Miss Swanson!”

“Not by me!”

“It is not your decision to make,” answered Chan authoritatively.

“In which case he is free to go with you or come with me, right?” asked Swanson cuttingly. Something was amiss and she had every intention of finding out what exactly it was.

Chan grabbed Tom as Agent Swanson began to pull Tom out of the vehicle.

“Hit it!” screamed Chan.

The driver reacted quickly and began to move but with Swanson’s Audi RS4 to negotiate, it wasn’t the sudden acceleration that Chan had been hoping for. Swanson removed Tom with a smirk while Chan looked on in frustration as the driver eased beyond the RS4 and then hit it.

Tom and Swanson watched Chan spin around in his seat and could almost hear the screams of anger as he vented at his colleagues while watching Tom and Swanson fade into the distance.

“So, Mr. Butler,” said Swanson turning to Tom. “Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on?”

Tom shook his head, and Swanson took him by the elbow and led him back towards the FBI field office.

“I thought as much,” she said despondently.

“I’ve been released!” Tom said, struggling gently against Swanson’s grip.

“Perhaps, but I’ve a funny feeling I just saved your ass and for that you are going to tell me something before you go anywhere.”

Tom looked at the surprisingly perceptive agent. He guessed she was mid-thirties at most, and from her confidence and the way in which she carried herself, she was an exceptionally capable one at that. She was right. He likely
would
be dead now if it were not for her instinct and, of course, her maniacal driving. He looked back towards her abandoned car, a station wagon, but a very butch looking station wagon.

“Should you not move that?” he asked, motioning his head towards her car and changing the subject.

She looked around. She wanted to get Butler back into protective custody. Her alarm bells were ringing on full alert. The streets were empty and Chan and his colleagues’ Chrysler were a dot on the horizon.

“You don’t mind?” she asked.

Butler shook his head and she changed direction and led him back to the Audi.

“How many kids you got?” asked Butler taking the passenger seat.

“Not married.”

Butler smiled. He knew she wasn’t married before he asked. “This car has a kind of family exterior but inside it’s all business.” He tried to move in the seat but it had devoured him with its sporty snugness. “It’s so you!” he added with sincerity.

Swanson looked at him for some hint of sarcasm but Butler looked deadpan and straight ahead. She shook her head and turned the ignition key. The engine’s bass-like roar announced its readiness to leap forward. Swanson eased the straining beast towards the garage entrance just a few yards ahead. The automatic doors began to rise at the click of her remote, and she looked again towards Butler and smiled. He reminded her very much of her father.

She turned the wheel sharply and floored the engine, the tires screeched and strained as the full power of the engine took them all by surprise. The car rocketed away from the FBI building and hurled its passengers across Washington.

Butler suddenly considered the prospect of a double bluff and instantly panicked.

“Have you eaten?” asked Swanson nonchalantly, taking a corner meant for 20 MPH at 60 MPH.

Butler relaxed mentally, at least as much as the G force being exerted on his body would allow. “Room service wasn’t due ‘til seven!”

“Excellent, I’m famished and technically you are free.”

Butler was no fool; the informality and lack of prying eyes was exactly what Swanson wanted. His already excellent opinion of her increased even further. She was a very smart young woman and one that would require him to be on top of his game. The last thing he’d want on his conscience was knowing he had gotten her killed.

20 January 2013 - President Jack King Inauguration day

Oval Office – The White House

Jack woke up on the morning that would see a new America - an America that had spent four years in almost constant turmoil was coming to an end. He offered a new choice for America, a strong and proud America that rewarded those who worked hard and believed in the founding fathers’ principles. Nobody could deny that the last president had had the unenviable task of trying to recover from the global financial crisis, but one poor decision after another had been more than the public could stomach. Change was needed and President Jack King was the man chosen for the job. It wasn’t quite a landslide victory but not far from it.

It would be an uncharacteristically quiet inauguration; the twentieth fell on a Sunday and law dictated that the president must be sworn in by the twentieth. An official ceremony would be held the following day.

President King took the oath of office in a small ceremony conducted by the Chief Justice attended by his wife and senior staff. His speech, safely tucked in his inside pocket, a month in the making, would have to wait until the public ceremony the following day. It was a speech that would never see the light of day. A speech full of hope and determination to work hard, pay down the debts of a wasteful government and ensure the generations to come wouldn’t have to pay for the generations in the past.

“Mr. President?”

Jack continued his discussion with the Chief Justice. He had a list of deeply unpopular laws passed by the previous incumbent to overturn as a priority and took the opportunity to discuss his plans with the Chief Justice.

“Mr. President?” asked Kenneth Lee, this time more firmly.

Jack turned, expecting to see his predecessor, but Kenneth was staring directly at him.

“Mr. President, we have a meeting scheduled.”

Jack looked over his shoulder before pointing to himself questioningly, much to the amusement of those gathered in the Oval Office.