Cobalt (19 page)

Gillian swallowed slowly and turned to face their captor, her hand reaching for William’s for support, her mind concentrating on keeping her voice steady as she addressed him. ‘Excuse me, Sir?’

     ‘Mrs Watson, what can I do for you?’ Kellerin smiled and spoke softly to her.

     ‘You could let us go.’ Gillian responded, not thinking about the ramifications her response could have. The instant the words left her mouth, she gasped.

    Kellerin laughed quietly. ‘I could, but then I would have wasted all this time and effort for nothing. Is there anything else I can do for you, make your stay more comfortable?’

    ‘Gillian,’ William cautioned, squeezing her hand tighter.

    ‘It’s alright, Will, I know what I’m doing’ Gillian reassured her husband. She was tired and she knew, based off of his last response their captor was not finished with them just yet. ‘Sir, my daughter must be wondering where we are by now. She’s never spent and evening without us in ten years. I just want to call her. Let her know everything is fine. It is fine isn’t it? She came home from school and then what? What have you men done to her?’ Gillian began to cry, the stresses of the last few hours had finally caught up to her.

     ‘Your daughter arrived home six hours ago, accompanied by her secret service agents. My men took care of the agents discreetly, your daughter saw nothing. The agents are in the Situation room as we speak.’ Noticing the concern in their eyes he continued, his tone softening. ‘They are both alive. As is your daughter. I had a nanny in place for her arrival home. I believe she had spaghetti bolognaise for dinner before commencing her homework, watching some television and going to bed. Eight thirty is her bed time is it not?’

    Gillian sat up straight, and glared at Kellerin. ‘If you’ve hurt her…’

    ‘I assure you she is fine. You may call her briefly in the morning. She’ll get up and go to school as if nothing has happened. My nanny has assured her that you were both called away on urgent business, but you will be both back home when she finished school tomorrow afternoon. And providing all goes to plan, you will be.’ Kellerin turned from the first couple and faced out the window. Very soon it would all be over.

CHAPTER 26

For Madeline and Rick the flight from Venice took forever, for Teslovich it was far too short. As they exited customs Teslovich was handed to Marcus and two of his assigned team. Without even acknowledging Marcus' presence, Rick strode out through the terminal doors and headed towards the waiting van. For her part, Madeline nodded briefly in his direction before following Rick to the van. Marcus stood watching as the two agents climbed into the van, Rick first, then turning and offering his hand to Madeline. Marcus felt the hair on his neck bristle as she accepted the offered and hand and leapt gently into the van. He watched as Lychart slammed the door closed, sealing the van for departure, sealing Madeline away from his view.  He turned to his remaining agents and ordered them to follow into their van, taking Teslovich to the detainment area inside the CIA.

**********

            Inside the non-descript van belonging to the CIA sat Lychart, Stephanie and the other eight agents assigned to the mission. An elaborate computer system covered over half the van. Digital maps, satellite links, fine different printers, an up-link to the CIA database, and a complex tracking system including a 3-D, X-ray system. It was a small laboratory that enabled Lychart to keep surveillance 100  percent of the team mission time. From this position, with the help of these devices, he could monitor the teams progress, see more of the target area than the field agents, and alert them to approaching dangers.

            As Madeline entered the van, Sebastian Lychart turned from his position by the main computer screen, to greet her. ‘Hey Sassy’ he stated, winking at her. He then saluted her, his large wrinkled hands touching the red and black bandana he wore about his head. She smiled at his gesture. Unlike Marcus, she knew that the sixty year old computer genius, but hippie at heart, meant no disrespect towards her. It was a private joke initiated almost sixteen years ago in a heated disagreement where investigations ground to a halt, and Madeline attacked Lychart, ordering him to complete data search after data search- an action they both knew to be futile. He had responded by kicking his cowboy-booted feet up onto the desk, beside the computer console, tugging at the band of his faded denim jacket, and saluting her as he stated, ‘Sir. Yes Sir!’ The action had caused Madeline to lose concentration. She smiled, attempting to stifle the laugh that rose up in her throat. Lychart had smiled too, knowing that through his subordination he had discovered there was a different perspective to the ever-driven, work-oriented Madeline. It was a side that not many people had seen, and Lychart felt privileged that he was one of them. Over the years he had continued the practice, merely to remind Madeline that not everything was, or needed to be taken as seriously as she did. His gesture never failed to gain a smile from her, although many a time he had received a stern look from Marcus who believed the action was disrespectful and made a mockery of all they stood for at the CIA. Lychart had never taken it to heart, especially as through its practice he had created a strong, close friendship with Madeline, something that not many of the other agents could claim. While they all were acquainted and friendly, there were only a few that were given insight into what she did, and where she went after she left the office.

Madeline nodded to Lychart to initiate the 3-D computer generated image of the White House. Lychart turned back to face the console. He rubbed his chin, and the stubble that covered it, and hitting a series of keys on the computer keypad, the hologram sprung to life in the centre of the van, brought into existence by the various image projectors located around the van. Madeline went to stand beside it. As Rick changed his clothes, Madeline set about briefing the team of ten operatives. ‘Using the helicopter Stephanie and I will enter via the roof, and secure the first family.’ She said indicating to the areas on the holographic image. ‘Rick will lead the rest of you on a ground assault, and Team C is standing by to enter the White House via the secret tunnel that runs between the Treasury building and the Situations Room.’ As she spoke Lychart, attached the communications device, that Stephanie had passed him, to her ear. It was so small it could not be seen under her hair. ‘Radio frequency, six.’ she continued ‘Only kill when you have to. Death is not the agenda. Stephanie come with me!’ Madeline exited the van, with Stephanie close on her heels.

            They watched in silence as Rick slammed the door shut, and the black, non-descript van sped from the airport, towards its destination. Madeline’s hair and coat  whipped about her as the stealth helicopter lowered into the carpark, a few meters away from her. Its arrival drew quite a number of spectators, but Madeline paid little attention to the crowd that was gathering around the terminal doors, as she ushered Stephanie on board ahead of her. Climbing in herself, she closed the door and motioned for the pilot to lift-off. She sat back in her chair and exhaled slowly before sending her first transmission to Lychart. ‘Lychart. Are you reading this?’

     ‘Loud and clear, Sassy.’ His low, husky voice echoed softly in her ear.

     ‘We’re in the air.’

     ‘E.T.A.?’

     ‘Fifteen minutes.’

****************

In the Residence of the White House tension was mounting. Fifteen hours William thought. How can no one know, no one realise something was wrong. The first family, the Vice President had not been seen in the West Wing for fifteen hours and no one suspected anything. The CIA had to be planning something. Marcus surely wouldn’t let terrorists overrun the White House and get away with it. Where were they? And where was the secret service? Employed to protect him and his family. The irrational William, the William Watson furious at being held against his will, at having his family threatened doubted the secret service could even protect his family from rabbits at this rate. And rabbits weren’t even a threat to his safety, to national security. His daughter had a rabbit, and it was always under-threat of being stepped on as it appeared out from under couches, the dinner table at the most inopportune times. It was not causing threat.

Logically William knew that something must have happened to his agents and to those responsible for protecting his wife. Kellerin’s men had taken care of those protecting his daughter. Kellerin had told him as much. Eight secret service agents would not just sit idly by and watch as terrorists threatened the lives of their charges. They had taken an oath to protect with any force necessary. They would take a bullet for anyone in this building. Especially Max ‘Coop’ Cooper, his head of security. That man was adamant about how he and his agents did their jobs. He took his oath very seriously. Where was Coop? Was he dead? The agents must have been disabled very early on, or there would be guns blazing and ‘Operation Relocate Eagle’ would be underway, William thought. God, he even named the imaginary operation, he was going out of his mind with all this waiting. He shifted in his chair, just sitting around thinking, over-thinking, waiting was killing him faster than the terrorists themselves. So far the terrorists had done nothing but sit and wait also. William didn’t even know why the terrorists were here. There had been no discussion. Any time he tried to communicate with their leader he was told ‘all in good time.’ Time was running out. He was sick of time. He could hear the ticking of the grandfather clock made from New Hampshire Oak in the hallway. He was sick of the ticking. Counting down to something. What? William had the fleeting thought that the terrorists had not planed very well, that they were in over their heads. They had intended, but never expected that they would capture the White House, and now were at a loss of what to actually do. Then he contemplated their leader again. Self-assured, confident, quietly discerning. Everything about the man radiated preparation, organisation and complete control. He knows exactly what he is doing, and what he is going to do. There is nothing about the man that was left to chance.  Other than holding them hostage his treatment of his captives had been intrinsically decent. He was a perfect gentleman. William could see how easy it would be to be lulled into a false sense of security, how easy it would be to feel safe and assured around this man, how you could forget the inert accumulation of half truths he dealt in and trust him implicitly. He would make a brilliant politician, William thought,  he had felt less about many of the current members of congress.

As if sensing her husband’s discomfort and growing agitation Gillian reached a hand over and rested it on his thigh. William raised his eyes to meets hers as he placed his hand over hers and gently squeezed, his thumb rubbing across the back of her hand. They were snapped from their silent contemplation by yet another masked man entering the room. He approached where the head of the terrorist operation sat behind the desk. Leaning down he whispered something in his ear, rose and left as quietly as he had entered.

Kellerin rose and began to pace the room. ‘The beauty of the White House, Mr President, is that once you control it from the inside, no one can penetrate. It was built to both humble and impress foreign leaders and that it does.’ Kellerin turned to face William Watson. ‘This will all be over very soon. I have just been informed that the rest of our party has been detained. Comrade Teslovich missed his scheduled contact time. One can only assume the worst. Time and keeping strictly to that time is of great importance in a mission such as this. Russia has waited long enough. There is no need to wait any longer.’

CHAPTER 27

Seated in the stealth helicopter, flying up Pennsylvania Avenue Madeline studied the younger agent, in silence. Stephanie was a young rookie. Marcus had assigned Madeline to oversee her progress and training. He believed Stephanie needed to be more like Madeline. Stephanie looked up from loading her weapon, and stared directly at her. Madeline smiled, non-committally, at her. Madeline very rarely took an instant dislike to someone, but she did not like Stephanie, there was something unsettling about the young woman. Something just did not add up. Stephanie was a slow learner and she often questioned Madeline's methods and solutions. And not just hers. Sebastian found it hard to work with her, and Sebastian Lychart was definitely not backward in coming forward. His words, she recalled were that young people, young agents today had no idea of protocol and procedure. They had no idea of their own faults, in fact if you asked most they were faultless. They took no guidance, any suggestions were met as criticism and then they overacted, threatening union action, citing discrimination, un-professionalism, slander, whatever the current trend in generation X to defer blame and remove responsibility. Madeline smiled as she recalled Lychat’s tirade. She too had been on the receiving end of one of these actions. She remembered all too well the meeting between Stephanie, Marcus and herself. Marcus had been ‘mediator’ between the two women. Marcus had sat in silence watching Stephanie attack Madeline verbally for over an hour, screaming every word beginning with ‘un’ she could conjure, unjust, unreasonable, unprofessional, uncaring… Madeline for her part had sat through the proceedings calmly, listening to Stephanie’s accusations, her fury and her inability to accept responsibility for her mistakes, for her actions. Everything was Madeline’s problem, Madeline’s fault in Stephanie’s eyes, not her own lack of development and experience. Of course, Madeline couldn't tell Marcus how useless Stephanie was, most of the time, as he had hired her on special request from the White House. Madeline hoped today would be one of Stephanie's good days.