the satellite phone from Salitas, set it on speaker, and sat down on the high-backed oxblood leather chair at the head of the conference table.
“Mr. President,” Rappaport began, “is everything okay? Media speculation is that there was some sort of terrorist attack using a biological weapon.”
The president gave Rappaport a full briefing. No half-truths. No withheld information. Afterward, there was only silence from the man. Allaire wondered if their connection had dropped.
“You still with me?” he asked.
“I am, Mr. President. I’m at your disposal and ready to do whatever is necessary.” There was a force behind his words, a confidence that was actually startling to Allaire. “What’s next?”
The president cleared his throat.
“Dr. Townsend will devise a test to evaluate my mental function—to assess if my will or intellect have in any way become compromised.”
“How long?”
“Given my level of exposure, two weeks. Maybe more, maybe less.”
“What are you suggesting we do, sir?”
“After the Kennedy assassination, Lyndon Johnson was sworn in aboard Air Force One. When it’s time, we’ll send transportation out to bring you to the White House.”
“When it’s time?”
“When my physician says so, and assuming no one ahead of you is in shape to succeed me, you will take the presidential oath of office.”
“My God. That is quite a lot to absorb, Mr. President.”
“A man does what he must—in spite of personal consequences, in spite of obstacles and dangers and pressures—and that is the basis of all human morality.”
“John F. Kennedy.”
“Very good, my friend. Let’s hope your moment doesn’t come, but if it does, I trust you to do what is right and just.”
“Thank you for your confidence.”
“What’s your security situation there, Paul?”
“I have two Secret Service agents with me and my family. That’s all.”
“Not good enough,” Allaire said. “You have twenty-four hours to get your family settled and safe. By then I want your home secured as if it were the White House. Biometric scanners. Infrared perimeter alarms. Video surveillance, the works. I’ll get Gary Salitas to work on that for you. We’ll send a detachment of Secret Service agents out there ASAP.”
“No need for the security measures, Mr. President,” Rappaport said. “Except for the Secret Service protection. Through my office of Homeland Security I have access to the best systems professionals in the world. I’ll phone Roger Corum. He’s the CEO of Staghorn Security and has connections to all the major players in the industry. He’s already an approved vendor, and he’s done a lot of work for us.”
“Very well. Good luck, Paul. We’ll be back in touch soon.”
“Yes, Mr. President. And sir?”
“Yes?”
“If the time does come, I promise I’ll be a great president.”
CHAPTER 15
DAY 2
6:30 A.M. (EST)
The VH-60N banked smoothly to the right and eased toward the ground. Griff sat motionless in a plush leather seat, staring out at the granite buildings of D.C. This helicopter, though the same type that had lifted him to freedom hours earlier, had a fully finished interior, and was clearly used for transporting high-profile passengers. He was on the last leg of a journey from solitary confinement in a maximum-security penitentiary to a meeting with the president of the United States.
Just another typical day.
Griff had made the trip east, from Tinker Air Force base to Bolling, in an eerily empty C-22B transport plane. Flight time took less than three and a half hours from takeoff to landing with different military teams escorting him at each step of the two-thousand-mile, three-stop journey. Now, with the beginning just ahead, he pressed his forehead against the small portal window, and allowed images of people and places to flow through his mind.
From the earliest days of his remembered life, he had one and only one guiding force—the desire not to be normal.
“Mr. President,” Rappaport began, “is everything okay? Media speculation is that there was some sort of terrorist attack using a biological weapon.”
The president gave Rappaport a full briefing. No half-truths. No withheld information. Afterward, there was only silence from the man. Allaire wondered if their connection had dropped.
“You still with me?” he asked.
“I am, Mr. President. I’m at your disposal and ready to do whatever is necessary.” There was a force behind his words, a confidence that was actually startling to Allaire. “What’s next?”
The president cleared his throat.
“Dr. Townsend will devise a test to evaluate my mental function—to assess if my will or intellect have in any way become compromised.”
“How long?”
“Given my level of exposure, two weeks. Maybe more, maybe less.”
“What are you suggesting we do, sir?”
“After the Kennedy assassination, Lyndon Johnson was sworn in aboard Air Force One. When it’s time, we’ll send transportation out to bring you to the White House.”
“When it’s time?”
“When my physician says so, and assuming no one ahead of you is in shape to succeed me, you will take the presidential oath of office.”
“My God. That is quite a lot to absorb, Mr. President.”
“A man does what he must—in spite of personal consequences, in spite of obstacles and dangers and pressures—and that is the basis of all human morality.”
“John F. Kennedy.”
“Very good, my friend. Let’s hope your moment doesn’t come, but if it does, I trust you to do what is right and just.”
“Thank you for your confidence.”
“What’s your security situation there, Paul?”
“I have two Secret Service agents with me and my family. That’s all.”
“Not good enough,” Allaire said. “You have twenty-four hours to get your family settled and safe. By then I want your home secured as if it were the White House. Biometric scanners. Infrared perimeter alarms. Video surveillance, the works. I’ll get Gary Salitas to work on that for you. We’ll send a detachment of Secret Service agents out there ASAP.”
“No need for the security measures, Mr. President,” Rappaport said. “Except for the Secret Service protection. Through my office of Homeland Security I have access to the best systems professionals in the world. I’ll phone Roger Corum. He’s the CEO of Staghorn Security and has connections to all the major players in the industry. He’s already an approved vendor, and he’s done a lot of work for us.”
“Very well. Good luck, Paul. We’ll be back in touch soon.”
“Yes, Mr. President. And sir?”
“Yes?”
“If the time does come, I promise I’ll be a great president.”
CHAPTER 15
DAY 2
6:30 A.M. (EST)
The VH-60N banked smoothly to the right and eased toward the ground. Griff sat motionless in a plush leather seat, staring out at the granite buildings of D.C. This helicopter, though the same type that had lifted him to freedom hours earlier, had a fully finished interior, and was clearly used for transporting high-profile passengers. He was on the last leg of a journey from solitary confinement in a maximum-security penitentiary to a meeting with the president of the United States.
Just another typical day.
Griff had made the trip east, from Tinker Air Force base to Bolling, in an eerily empty C-22B transport plane. Flight time took less than three and a half hours from takeoff to landing with different military teams escorting him at each step of the two-thousand-mile, three-stop journey. Now, with the beginning just ahead, he pressed his forehead against the small portal window, and allowed images of people and places to flow through his mind.
From the earliest days of his remembered life, he had one and only one guiding force—the desire not to be normal.
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