02 Thunder of Heaven: A Joshua Jordan Novel by Tim Lahaye Page B

jail.
    Maybe he was just being paranoid, but the facts were undeniable. Not long ago, Joshua had boldly defied a congressional subpoena in his effort to protect the proprietary design of his RTS antimissile system to keep it from falling into the wrong hands. Then there was the contempt-of-court charge brought against him by a federal judge over the same issue, forcing him to go into hiding to avoid service of federal papers. Sure, things finally worked out and the charges were dropped — thanks to Abby’s brilliant maneuvering — but he knew that some people in the White House were still trying to bring him down.
    What if his inclusion in the Medal of Freedom event was just an elaborate trap, to get him close enough so the Feds could grab him on some charges he wasn’t even aware of yet? And why did they instruct him that only one family member could accompany him to the ceremony? But his anxiety over all that seemed absurd. Why would the administration bestow a medal on someone just so they could arrest him?

    As the president of the United States addressed the small audience in the Rose Garden ceremony, Joshua was still wondering what had truly brought him to that place.
    He found himself in a row of eight recipients, all standing behind President Virgil Corland. The president spoke from a podium embossed with the familiar presidential seal, as press cameras whirred and fluttered. They had a great shot. The sprawling trees of the White House lawn framed the event, and far off in the background stood the white obelisk of the Washington Monument. Joshua looked out and located Abigail’s warm, loving face.
    Joshua had not been prepared for how haggard the president looked: tired eyes, pale, sunken skin. He realized why the administration had denied the cameras any close-ups.
    When it came time for Joshua to receive his medal, Corland said it was for recognition of his “acts of bravery and civic duty in foiling a criminal plot at Grand Central Station, which not only threatened the life of his own son, Cal Jordan, but also posed a threat involving America’s national security.” Joshua thought it was strange to get a medal for that; he’d have walked through hell to save his own son. That’s just what a father does.
    Most likely the president was ramping up for his reelection campaign and wanted to pander to voters who supported a strong national defense. But beyond that, Joshua got the feeling that he was there, in this glittering Rose Garden ceremony, because he was a chess piece in some kind of high-stakes political game.
    When it was over, the president went down the row of medal recipients and shook hands with each of them. Joshua noticed that he took the time to converse at length with every other medalist, but when he got to Joshua, he simply gave a quick shake, silently smiled, and then moved on without saying a word.
    When those on the dais dispersed, the president was quickly ushered by his staff and Secret Service detail back inside the White House. Joshua strode over to Abigail. Around his neck was the blue ribbon, and dangling from it was the white five-pointed star edged in gold and laying against the background of a red pentagonal shield.
    Abigail reached out to touch the medal. Her smile was uncontainable, a gentle explosion of love, passion, and pride.
    She was about to say something when her eyes darted off to something behind Joshua. Before he could turn around, Joshua felt a hand on his arm. Two square-shouldered men in suits stared at him from behind sunglasses, with tiny electronic ear buds in their ears.
    “Mr. Jordan, please come with us.”
    “What’s this about?” Joshua asked.
    “You need to come now, Mr. Jordan …”
    Abigail tried to keep things light. “I hope our Medal of Freedom winner here isn’t in some hot water,” she said with a halting attempt at a joke.
    The men didn’t smile.
    “I’m not just his wife,” Abigail said. “I’m also his lawyer.”
    One of the men,