Samantha. Then I'll start on the coward Thomas.
He stopped about fifteen feet from us, the entourage behind him arriving a few moments later. They threw the president on the ground between us and them. The look of absolute horror on his face told me all I needed to know about his courage. He was a chicken hawk after all.
"Help me!"
His fear made him irrational. Anyone with two eyes could see that I was out of this fight. All I could do at this point was bleed on the grass.
"What do you want me to do, use harsh language?"
"Shut up," Murdock said as he kicked President Thomas in the face. The whimpering that followed would have made me feel sorry for him, if I didn't know what type of man he was.
"Tell me where Smith is."
I rolled onto my back and looked in the opposite direction of the monument, toward the White House. On the far side of Constitution Avenue, between us and the police blockade, sat a black SUV with tinted windows. When I scanned Chuck's mind at the hotel, that vehicle had been his rendezvous point after eliminating Sammy and Nami.
Smith didn't divulge his entire plan to his bodyguards, but Chuck did know that they were to capture Murdock after he killed the president. They were going to tranquilize him with the same drugs they used on me, and then drag him off somewhere. Chuck wasn't privy to what would happen after that, but I'm guessing Murdock's future wouldn't be enjoyable.
My only play was to try and get either Smith or Murdock to kill the other. If they became distracted with each other, maybe one of the Secret Service agents could do something.
The sound of an approaching helicopter added to the clatter of sirens and loudspeakers.
Murdock squinted at the SUV, as if concentrating on it. The distance from us to it appeared to be over three hundred yards, which was supposedly the maximum range for his abilities. Smith knew to stay at least that far away. After several seconds Murdock relaxed his body and smiled.
"I'm here, Smithy, come and get me!" he yelled, raising his arms in a beckoning gesture.
A large dart impacted on the side of his shoulder, twisting his torso. He reached up and pulled it out, looking to his left for the shooter. Smith's other tough guy, the Jackie Chan lookalike, stood at the tree line along the edge of the Constitution Gardens. He had a tranquilizer rifle tucked against his shoulder.
In front of me I could see Sammy's muscles loosen a little. The drug was already taking its toll on Murdock. The agents standing over the president were also gaining their mobility back as they started turning away from Thomas.
They must have given Murdock a hefty dose because he started staggering sideways within seconds. The agents pounced on him after he crashed to the grass. Though he lost his ability to control people, our odd connection remained the same.
Sammy collapsed to her knees, sobbing. I would have consoled her, but I was busy bleeding all over myself.
A door opened on the black SUV and Smith stepped out. An officer ordered him to halt, but he kept going as he flashed a badge in their direction.
"President Thomas, don't believe anything he's about to tell you. They wanted you to be assassinated," I said.
One of the agents started attending to his injured foot, causing him to wince in pain.
"Who? Smith?" he asked.
"No. Snow White and Seven Dwarves."
The bewilderment on his face made me feel sorry for the state of American politics. At least I could say I didn't vote for him.
"Yes, Smith," I said, raising my voice over the sound of the helicopter. "He wants you out of the way so he can keep operating his program."
The chopper had come from the direction of the White House and appeared to be Marine One, the president's Marine Corps transport. It circled overhead, waiting for a signal to land.
The hundreds of cops that surrounded us began to close in, slowly at first but picking up the pace when no one shot themselves. They did their best to get reporters’ cameras
He stopped about fifteen feet from us, the entourage behind him arriving a few moments later. They threw the president on the ground between us and them. The look of absolute horror on his face told me all I needed to know about his courage. He was a chicken hawk after all.
"Help me!"
His fear made him irrational. Anyone with two eyes could see that I was out of this fight. All I could do at this point was bleed on the grass.
"What do you want me to do, use harsh language?"
"Shut up," Murdock said as he kicked President Thomas in the face. The whimpering that followed would have made me feel sorry for him, if I didn't know what type of man he was.
"Tell me where Smith is."
I rolled onto my back and looked in the opposite direction of the monument, toward the White House. On the far side of Constitution Avenue, between us and the police blockade, sat a black SUV with tinted windows. When I scanned Chuck's mind at the hotel, that vehicle had been his rendezvous point after eliminating Sammy and Nami.
Smith didn't divulge his entire plan to his bodyguards, but Chuck did know that they were to capture Murdock after he killed the president. They were going to tranquilize him with the same drugs they used on me, and then drag him off somewhere. Chuck wasn't privy to what would happen after that, but I'm guessing Murdock's future wouldn't be enjoyable.
My only play was to try and get either Smith or Murdock to kill the other. If they became distracted with each other, maybe one of the Secret Service agents could do something.
The sound of an approaching helicopter added to the clatter of sirens and loudspeakers.
Murdock squinted at the SUV, as if concentrating on it. The distance from us to it appeared to be over three hundred yards, which was supposedly the maximum range for his abilities. Smith knew to stay at least that far away. After several seconds Murdock relaxed his body and smiled.
"I'm here, Smithy, come and get me!" he yelled, raising his arms in a beckoning gesture.
A large dart impacted on the side of his shoulder, twisting his torso. He reached up and pulled it out, looking to his left for the shooter. Smith's other tough guy, the Jackie Chan lookalike, stood at the tree line along the edge of the Constitution Gardens. He had a tranquilizer rifle tucked against his shoulder.
In front of me I could see Sammy's muscles loosen a little. The drug was already taking its toll on Murdock. The agents standing over the president were also gaining their mobility back as they started turning away from Thomas.
They must have given Murdock a hefty dose because he started staggering sideways within seconds. The agents pounced on him after he crashed to the grass. Though he lost his ability to control people, our odd connection remained the same.
Sammy collapsed to her knees, sobbing. I would have consoled her, but I was busy bleeding all over myself.
A door opened on the black SUV and Smith stepped out. An officer ordered him to halt, but he kept going as he flashed a badge in their direction.
"President Thomas, don't believe anything he's about to tell you. They wanted you to be assassinated," I said.
One of the agents started attending to his injured foot, causing him to wince in pain.
"Who? Smith?" he asked.
"No. Snow White and Seven Dwarves."
The bewilderment on his face made me feel sorry for the state of American politics. At least I could say I didn't vote for him.
"Yes, Smith," I said, raising my voice over the sound of the helicopter. "He wants you out of the way so he can keep operating his program."
The chopper had come from the direction of the White House and appeared to be Marine One, the president's Marine Corps transport. It circled overhead, waiting for a signal to land.
The hundreds of cops that surrounded us began to close in, slowly at first but picking up the pace when no one shot themselves. They did their best to get reporters’ cameras
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