The God Complex: A Thriller Page 13

  “He’s on the phone to the—”

  “Howie, is that you?” boomed Senator Noble from the inner office, oblivious to everything else around him. “Get in here! Jim’s finishing up his call. And bring everyone else with you!”

  Howie gave the PA an apologetic look and did as instructed by Senator Noble, ushering Lynne, Paula and the Colonel with him. They entered to find the FBI Director hurriedly ending his call.

  “Senator Noble,” said Jim, as he replaced his handset. “I believe you wanted to see me?”

  “Urgently, yes,” replied Senator Noble.

  “How can we help?” asked Jim.

  “Actually, I’m here to help you,” said the Senator, gesturing for the Colonel to bring the laptop to the desk. “Colonel, if you wouldn’t mind setting it up here,” he said, pointing to the desk facing the guests. “I believe you’re in the process of taking over the investigation from the Secret Service?” he asked rhetorically. “Well this may make your job a little simpler. Colonel?”

  “Thank you, Senator,” said the Colonel. “A short while ago, the NSA alerted us to a communication from a charter jet that included the words ‘Cash’ and ‘Rigs’. Upon further investigation, we discovered we have very good reason to believe that the two main suspects that you are currently hunting, namely the CIA assassins Copernicus Harris and Jake Miller— Cash and Rigs— are aboard that aircraft as we speak.”

  “Outstanding!” said Jim. “I’ll get my teams in place. Where are they?”

  “That won’t be necessary, we’re taking care of it,” said the Colonel.

  “Like hell you are! I want those boys in my cells downstairs!”

  “It’s not up for debate,” said the Senator, ending any further discussion. “As a courtesy, I’ve arranged for you to witness the arrest. The Colonel is setting up a link with the feed to the operation. Once the men are in custody, we, of course, will have them transferred to you. Make no mistake,” cautioned the Senator, these are two highly trained and exceptionally dangerous individuals. Their files are classified and way beyond the clearance of anyone in this room.”

  “Even yours,” said Jim sarcastically. He had scanned through the files for the investigation earlier in the day with his Deputy, Howie. Solid black lines riddled every document as detail after detail was redacted for security purposes. All Jim Walker knew about Cash and Rigs was their age, height and weight, and even then their weight was as recorded on entry to the Marines fifteen years earlier.

  “We are due to intercept them in the next…” the Colonel checked his watch, “…fifteen minutes.”

  “Intercept?” asked Howie.

  “Two F22 Raptors are on course to intercept and direct the aircraft to land at Creech Air Force Base in Nevada where we have a team of Air Force Combat Controllers who are more than capable of taking them into custody.”

  The laptop screen came to life. The image of an empty sky filled the screen, while the speakers relayed chatter between two pilots and the ground controllers.

  “They’re around 300 miles from visual sighting of the aircraft,” translated the Colonel.

  The chatter continued and the sky seemed to zoom closer.

  “They’ve been given the go ahead to intercept. Those were their afterburners kicking in,” explained the Colonel.

  “Wow,” said Paula. “That looked very cool!”

  The colonel smiled, “If you want to try—”

  “Down boy,” warned the Senator, seeing the sparkle in the Colonel’s eye.

  The Colonel immediately returned his attention to the screen. “The small dot,” he pointed to the top right of the screen, “is the target aircraft ,and the chatter you can hear is our attempt to contact the pilot.”

  “They’re not responding?” asked Howie.

  “So far no, nothing,” said the Colonel, listening intently as the small corporate jet began to fill their screen.

  “What’s that?’ asked Lynne, listening closely.

  “Yes, I hear it too, it’s like a tapping,” said the Colonel, grabbing a pad and pen from the FBI Director’s desk and scribbling furiously.

  The small plane nosedived on the screen.

  The Colonel finished writing. “The pilot was tapping Morse Code to us, using his radio transmitter. He obviously can’t speak, and from the dive, I assume either Cash or Rigs realized what he was doing.”

  “What did he say?” demanded the Senator.

  The Colonel checked his translation carefully before speaking. “Shoot us down. He’s saying ‘shoot us down’.”

  “Oh my God,” breathed Lynne. “That poor brave man.”

  “But why?” asked the Senator. “Creech was chosen because it’s remote. Why would he want us to shoot him down, there’s nothing there!”

  “It’s still within fifty miles of Vegas and let’s not forget what these guys were trying to stop,” said the Colonel.

  “Nuclear disarmament,” said Howie.

  “You don’t think…?” asked Lynne, voicing what the rest of the room was thinking.

  “No,” replied Senator Noble. “I mean what’s to gain from it?”

  “Who knows with some of these crazies?”

  “Our pilot is asking what he’s to do,” the Colonel said. “They’re not getting anywhere with the other pilots and the course and trajectory they’re currently on will take them to the Las Vegas strip.”

  Senator Noble shrugged and looked at Jim. “They’re your suspects,” he said. “Your call.”

  “The pilot is prompting for a decision. He’s over open desert with zero chance for collateral damage. That’s going to change very shortly,” advised the Colonel urgently.

  Jim looked at his boss, Attorney General Lynne Bertram, who in turn looked at Senator Noble. He looked away. It was their call. She nodded.

  “Take them down,” said Jim Walker abruptly, shaking his head in despair for the innocent pilot who had sacrificed himself.

  The Colonel relayed the message over the connection and they all watched as the two Raptors fired one missile each into the helpless jet. It exploded before tumbling in a million pieces to the desert floor thirty thousand feet below.

  “Well it looks like the US Air Force has saved you the expense and hassle of a major manhunt and resulting trial,” announced the Senator, standing up. As far as he was concerned, the meeting was over.

  The Colonel closed the laptop.

  “We’ll obviously want the remains to confirm they were on board,” said Jim Walker.

  “I’ll get the Colonel to come back to you on that. A HAZMAT team will need to okay the site and any remains before anyone gets their hands on anything.”

  “HAZMAT team? As in, radioactive material?” asked Paula. “Do you really think that?”

  “Classified,” said the Senator, leaving them all to wonder exactly how much the Senator knew and wasn’t telling them.

  “I’m not sure I should cancel the manhunt,” Jim called to the disappearing Senator’s back.

  “Trust me, cancel it! They’re gone!” he yelled back. The Colonel scurried to catch up with him.

  Chapter 28

  “Well,” huffed the PA, scurrying into Jim Walker’s office when the Senator left. “I don’t think I’ve ever met such a rude man!”

  “He’s not trying to be rude, he just thinks he owns everything,” sighed Lynne, taking a seat.

  “And probably does,” said Jim.

  “Coffees?” asked the PA. She had deliberately not offered while the Senator had been present to teach him a lesson.

  Taking their coffee orders, she left the deflated atmosphere in the room.

  “Do you ever think you’re just a pawn in a much bigger game?” asked Howie Kliner, the Deputy Director, taking a seat next to Lynne Bertram. “And you’ve no idea what the bigger game is?”

  “Never more so than today,” said Paula. “From the minute this all started, it’s smelled rotten.”

  “I’ve gone through the evidence against the
alleged plotters and it’s certainly compelling but where the hell did it come from?” asked Howie.

  “Delivered to the news network not long after the attack in Santa Cruz.”

  “Who compiled it? What agency had the resources to undertake surveillance against some of the most powerful members of the government?”

  “Not us,” said Jim, answering the question, in case anyone thought he had some shadowy department tucked away within the bowels of the FBI.

  “Nor us,” said Paula.

  “Although you have access…”

  “Not to everyone. Remember, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs and the Secretary of Defense are sitting in your cells below us and their security is handled by the Department of Defense, not us.”

  “Good point.”

  “And don’t forget I’ve got eight agents sharing those cells,” she snapped.

  “Why?” asked Lynne. “There was no mention of Secret Service agents implicated in the evidence, was there?”

  “Of course not, but we still have to protect the First Lady and the Vice President.”

  “Even if they tried to kill the President?”

  “If?! When it’s definite, I’ll get my guys out of there in an instant. Until then, they’re still under our protection, in jail or not.”

  “You’ve got armed guards within my holding cells?” asked Jim furiously, reaching for his phone.

  “No, we’ve got two unarmed guards with the First Lady and the VP, and another six armed agents stationed outside the cells.”

  “Santa Cruz…” said Howie thinking out loud. “The attack was supposed to be against the President, who was three thousand miles away.”

  “We’ve got over forty bodies at the scene, predominantly Surenos gang members, two professors, a few research assistants and a few police officers. How does any of that equate to a Presidential assassination plan?”

  “You’re forgetting the use of military grade equipment and the four bodies that we have been unable to identify and whom appear to have never existed. Smacks of conspiracy,” reminded Paula, who knew the evidence as well as anyone.

  “The forty others were collateral?” suggested Lynne.

  “And the telescope, let’s not forget the timeline, it was one of the first to go,” said Jim, scanning down the report on his desk.

  “Do we know why that was targeted?”

  “Something to do with the capability for spying. Our ‘enemies’ were going to be very upset at its capabilities,” Lynne said.

  “That doesn’t even make sense!” exclaimed Howie in frustration.

  “Have any of them talked?” asked Paula. “They certainly didn’t with us.”

  “Other than to tell me that I’ll be lucky if after this I’m just a down-and-out on the streets,” replied Howie, with concern in his voice. “I mean, seriously, the VP, Secretaries of Defense, State, Energy, Homeland Security and Treasury?” He ticked them off on his fingers. “The National Security Advisor, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the Director of National Intelligence, the Director of the CIA, the White House Chief of Staff and let’s not forget the First Lady, all downstairs in our holding cells?”

  “Amongst others,” added Lynne.

  “And your point?”

  “Forgetting the First Lady, it’s almost the entire National Security Council, the very people responsible for keeping our nation safe!”

  “With me here, it’s pretty much only the President who’s missing,” said Lynne.

  “You’re not thinking…?” asked Jim, then his desk phone buzzed. He lifted it, listened, and replaced it, speechless.

  “What?” asked Howie.

  “The President’s arrived to see the First Lady.”

  “How secure is this building?” demanded Paula, getting on her cell.

  “Nowhere near as secure as the White Hou—”

  An explosion reverberated throughout the building.

  Chapter 29

  Senator Noble’s military convoy swept out of the FBI headquarters under a hail of klaxons and horns.

  “They’ll get out of the way!” shouted the Senator at his driver, urging him to move through the protestors.

  The Senator was right and within a few seconds a swath had been cut through the crowds and the convoy was facing a clear road ahead.

  “It’s amazing what a few tons of armor can achieve,” smiled Senator Noble, picking up his cell phone and calling Conrad. “I’ve taken care of that problem,” he said quickly. He spotted something on the other side of the road. “Is that the President’s convoy?” he asked the Colonel.

  They passed a long line of black Suburbans and a very familiar Cadillac One, the President’s armored limousine.

  “Looks like it,” said the Colonel, following the convoy as it swept past on the other side of the carriageway.

  “Drop me here,” instructed the Senator urgently.

  “We’re still a mile from the Capitol building, sir,” said the Colonel.

  “That’s fine, I can walk,” said the Senator, clawing at the handle to exit the car.

  He stood in the middle of Pennsylvania Avenue, flanked at either end by the symbols of US power, the Capitol and the White House. One he owned, the other he coveted. The same family that had given him the ability to rise to power within the Senate was the same family that had blocked his goal for the presidency. Like his father before him, Antoine had forbidden Bertie from running for the presidency. The Noble family could not afford to be subjected to the level of attention that the presidency would have brought. Senator Bertie Noble had to sit back and watch others take his presidency, just as he had watched his twin’s young son become head of the Noble family. But for twelve minutes, he would have been head of Atlas Noble and the Noble empire. Those twelve minutes had robbed him of his throne.

  He hit the dial button.

  “Yes?” the person answered.

  “Go!” said Senator Bertie Noble, Chairman of the Senate Intelligence Committee and the most senior Senator within the majority party.

  ***

  Capitol Building

  Washington D.C.

  The tentative knock on the door startled him awake.

  “I said not to disturb me unless the world was ending!” he shouted angrily at the closed door.

  “I’m very sorry, Mr. Speaker, but these gentlemen insisted I interrupt you,” replied his secretary. She opened the door cautiously as if something may fly out at her, which, with the Speaker’s current mood, was highly likely.

  “What gentlemen?” he asked gruffly. He really wasn’t in the mood for any lobbyists, particularly from the defense industry. His phone had been going crazy since the UN speech, reminding him of many promises he had made during his campaign. Promises that could only have been kept had he managed to block the ratification of the disarmament treaty and in the process be labeled as a conspirator.

  “They’ve been sent over by the President, sir,” she said.

  “Well what are you waiting for? Show them in if they’re so darned important that I need to be disturbed!” he snapped sarcastically. The secretary ducked back into the outer office, closing the door behind her.

  The Speaker shook his head. She was useless, a temp replacing his old warhorse of a protector. Nancy wouldn’t have let even the President past her if she’d been at her desk, let alone people sent by him. A short knock was followed by both his office doors being swung open. Whoever it was liked to make an entrance.

  “Mr. Speaker, I’m Special Agent Jed Walters of the United States Secret Service,” the man announced, confidently striding into the room. “These are my colleagues.”

  The Speaker sat up. This was unexpected. “How can I help you, gentlemen?”

  “Sir, I’m sure you’re aware of the situation with a number of individuals—”

  “If you’re alluding to the conspirators, yes I am.”

  “Thank you, then you’re aware that one of those individuals is the Vice President.”
<
br />   A knock on the door preceded an altercation at the doorway as one of Jed Walters’ colleagues stopped somebody from entering the Speaker’s office.

  “Mr. Speaker!” the new person shouted from behind his door.

  “Larry?” the Speaker called.

  “Yes, Mr. Speaker, they’re not letting me in!”

  “Larry’s in charge of my security detail within the Capitol Police,” explained the Speaker.

  “Let him in,” said Jed, adding, “unarmed!”

  A flustered Larry burst in, brushing down his suit jacket. “Mr. Speaker, is everything alright?” he asked, rushing to the side of the man he had protected for the previous seven years.

  “Everything’s fine,” answered Jed. “The Speaker’s been given a security promotion.”

  “And you are?”

  “Jed Walters, United States Secret Service,” he replied nonchalantly. He circled his hand above his head to his men. “Mr. Speaker we don’t have time for this, we’ve to take you to meet with President Mitchell ASAP, sir.”

  “Why?” asked Larry.

  Jed ignored him and motioned for two of his men to help the aging Speaker from his desk chair. Another grabbed his suit jacket and before Larry could protest any further, his former protectee was being rushed out of the room.

  “You probably shouldn’t be in here,” said the temp when she saw Larry standing alone in the Speaker’s office.

  “It’s fine,” said Larry.

  “He, um, he told me to never leave anyone unattended in his office,” she said.

  “Anyone doesn’t include me,” he said. “I’m responsible for his security.”

  She cleared her throat. “Not anymore.”

  He walked towards her and led her out into the outer office, closing the office doors behind him.

  “Are you Larry Puller?” asked a man rushing into the Speaker’s outer office.

  Larry nodded.

  “Good to meet you,” he said extending his hand. “I’m Jed Walters, United States Secret Service. The President has asked us to assist you with the Speaker’s security.”