hard against the bedroom wall. Then I banged him into the wall a second time. Nothing lethal or too damaging, but definitely a bell-ringer, an attention-grabber.
Each time his body hit, the staid Jefferson Hotel seemed to shake to its very foundation. The Jefe’s body went slack. He didn’t fight back. He couldn’t believe what I’d just done. To be honest, neither could I.
I loosened my grip on Pittman. I finally let him go, and he wobbled on his feet. I knew I hadn’t hurt him much physically, but I had hurt his pride. I had also made a big mistake.
I didn’t say a word. Neither did the other gray suit in the room. I took some solace in the fact that Pittman had pushed first. He had started this, and for no reason. I wondered if the other suit had seen it that way, but I doubted it.
I left the crime-scene bedroom. Pittman never spoke to me.
I wondered also if I had just left the Washington Police Department.
CHAPTER
22
“THIS IS AN ALERT! Something is going down at Crown up and at ‘em, everybody! We’ve got trouble at Crown. This is a real alert! This is not a drill!
This is for real.”
Half a dozen Secret Service agents took the sudden alert very seriously. They watched
Jack
through Rangemaster binoculars, three sets of them.
Jack
was on the move.
They couldn’t believe what they were witnessing. Not one of the agents could believe this very bad scene playing out before them. The alert was definitely for real, though.
“It’s Jack, all right. What is he—crazy?”
“We have full visual contact with Jack. Where the hell is he going? Goddamn him.
What’s going on?”
The six watchers comprised three highly professional teams. They were all first-teamers, among the best and brightest of more than two thousand Secret Service agents working around the world. They sat inside dark-colored Ford sedans parked on Fifteenth Street Northwest. This was getting very serious, and very scary, in a hurry.
This is a real alert.
This is not a drill.
“Jack is definitely leaving Crown now. It’s twenty-three forty. At this moment, we have Jack in our crosshairs,” one of the agents spoke into the car mike.
“Yeah. Jack can be a real tricky fellow, though. He’s proven it before.
Keep
him right in your sights. Where’s the lovely Jill, home base?”
“This is home base,” a female agent’s voice came onto the line immediately.
“Jill is nice and comfy up on the third floor of Crown. She’s reading Barbara Bush on Barbara Bush. She’s in her jammies. Not to worry about Jill.”
“We’re absolutely sure about that?”
“Home base is sure, about Jill. Jill’s in bed. Jill is being a good girl, for tonight anyway.”
“Good for Jill. How the hell did Jack get out?”
“He used that old tunnel between the basement of Crown and the Treasury Building. That’s how he got out!”
This is an alert.
This is not a drill.
Jack is on the move.
“Jack is approaching Pennsylvania Avenue now. He’s near the Willard Hotel. He just glanced back over his shoulder. Jack’s paranoid, as well he should be. I don’t think he saw us.
Oh, shit,
somebody just flashed their high beams in front of the Willard.
A vehicle is pulling out—and pulling up alongside Jack!
Red Jeep! Jack is getting inside the fucking red Jeep.”
“Roger. So much for having Jack in our damn crosshairs. We’ll follow him pronto. Virginia plates on the Jeep. License number two-three-one HCY, Koons dealer sticker. Start a trace on the Jeep, now.”
“We’re following the red Jeep. We’re on Jack’s ass. Full alert for the Jackal.
Repeat: full alert for the Jackal.
This is not a drill!”
“Do not lose Jack tonight of all nights.
Do not lose Jack
under any circumstances.”
“Roger. We have Jack in plain sight”
Three dark sedans took off in hot pursuit of the Jeep.
Jack
was the Secret Service’s code name for President Thomas Byrnes.
Jill
was the code name for the First Lady.
Crown
had been the Service’s code word
Each time his body hit, the staid Jefferson Hotel seemed to shake to its very foundation. The Jefe’s body went slack. He didn’t fight back. He couldn’t believe what I’d just done. To be honest, neither could I.
I loosened my grip on Pittman. I finally let him go, and he wobbled on his feet. I knew I hadn’t hurt him much physically, but I had hurt his pride. I had also made a big mistake.
I didn’t say a word. Neither did the other gray suit in the room. I took some solace in the fact that Pittman had pushed first. He had started this, and for no reason. I wondered if the other suit had seen it that way, but I doubted it.
I left the crime-scene bedroom. Pittman never spoke to me.
I wondered also if I had just left the Washington Police Department.
CHAPTER
22
“THIS IS AN ALERT! Something is going down at Crown up and at ‘em, everybody! We’ve got trouble at Crown. This is a real alert! This is not a drill!
This is for real.”
Half a dozen Secret Service agents took the sudden alert very seriously. They watched
Jack
through Rangemaster binoculars, three sets of them.
Jack
was on the move.
They couldn’t believe what they were witnessing. Not one of the agents could believe this very bad scene playing out before them. The alert was definitely for real, though.
“It’s Jack, all right. What is he—crazy?”
“We have full visual contact with Jack. Where the hell is he going? Goddamn him.
What’s going on?”
The six watchers comprised three highly professional teams. They were all first-teamers, among the best and brightest of more than two thousand Secret Service agents working around the world. They sat inside dark-colored Ford sedans parked on Fifteenth Street Northwest. This was getting very serious, and very scary, in a hurry.
This is a real alert.
This is not a drill.
“Jack is definitely leaving Crown now. It’s twenty-three forty. At this moment, we have Jack in our crosshairs,” one of the agents spoke into the car mike.
“Yeah. Jack can be a real tricky fellow, though. He’s proven it before.
Keep
him right in your sights. Where’s the lovely Jill, home base?”
“This is home base,” a female agent’s voice came onto the line immediately.
“Jill is nice and comfy up on the third floor of Crown. She’s reading Barbara Bush on Barbara Bush. She’s in her jammies. Not to worry about Jill.”
“We’re absolutely sure about that?”
“Home base is sure, about Jill. Jill’s in bed. Jill is being a good girl, for tonight anyway.”
“Good for Jill. How the hell did Jack get out?”
“He used that old tunnel between the basement of Crown and the Treasury Building. That’s how he got out!”
This is an alert.
This is not a drill.
Jack is on the move.
“Jack is approaching Pennsylvania Avenue now. He’s near the Willard Hotel. He just glanced back over his shoulder. Jack’s paranoid, as well he should be. I don’t think he saw us.
Oh, shit,
somebody just flashed their high beams in front of the Willard.
A vehicle is pulling out—and pulling up alongside Jack!
Red Jeep! Jack is getting inside the fucking red Jeep.”
“Roger. So much for having Jack in our damn crosshairs. We’ll follow him pronto. Virginia plates on the Jeep. License number two-three-one HCY, Koons dealer sticker. Start a trace on the Jeep, now.”
“We’re following the red Jeep. We’re on Jack’s ass. Full alert for the Jackal.
Repeat: full alert for the Jackal.
This is not a drill!”
“Do not lose Jack tonight of all nights.
Do not lose Jack
under any circumstances.”
“Roger. We have Jack in plain sight”
Three dark sedans took off in hot pursuit of the Jeep.
Jack
was the Secret Service’s code name for President Thomas Byrnes.
Jill
was the code name for the First Lady.
Crown
had been the Service’s code word
Similar Books
