Page 100 of Hush

“Jesus Christ. Is everyone all right?”

“Yes. The plane was forced to abandon its mission and return to the UK, though.”

McDonough slammed his pen down on his papers and leaned back in his chair. The leather creaked, and he propped one foot up on the lower drawer of the Resolute desk. “Goddamn it.”

“And… Mr. President, there’s this.” Bill Simon turned on his tablet and passed it over to the president. It was frozen on a live stream from CNN, the breaking news ribbon curling over the bottom of the frame. The anchor, a woman, was frozen mid-word, her eyes wide. She almost looked frightened.

McDonough looked from the frozen tablet to Bill Simon. “I’m not going to like this.”

“I’ve called everyone in. We’re assembling in the Situation Room as we speak.”

McDonough pressed play on the tablet’s screen.

“Just in, Russian government officials say that they have found conclusive evidence that the CIA was behind the attack on Russian President Vasiliev. CIA funds were reportedly transferred to Vadim Kryukov, who then used that money to pay Bulat Desheriyev, the DC Sniper.”

“Oh fuck…” McDonough grimaced, grabbing the tablet with both hands.

The screen cut to the Kremlin, and a bevy of Russian governmental officers surrounding President Dimitry Vasiliev. He looked good, strong, even though his arm was in a sling. He wore a white cast, signed by his fellow Russians and dotted with hand-drawn Russian flags. He was a walking advertisement for Russian patriotic pride and a rallying symbol for nationalistic fervor. McDonough cursed again.

Vasiliev spoke. “Today, we present to the world the findings of our own independent investigation, unencumbered by American meddling. We have discovered that the CIA funded and supported the cowardly man who perpetrated these terrorist acts upon the Russian people.” He grasped a handful of papers, no doubt their proof. “I am submitting this evidence to the American courts, for their sham trial in Washington DC. And, I am also submitting this evidence to the International Criminal Court, the arbiter of gross international law violations. Assassinating the head of a rival power is illegal, President McDonough! I had not even digested the lunch we shared that day! You should be ashamed of yourself!”

McDonough’s eyes slid closed.

“It gets worse, sir.” Bill Simon hovered, growing paler by the second.

“And, in support of a full International Criminal Court investigation, we have arrested three CIA officers who were operating illegally in Russia.” The officers around President Vasiliev held photos of three Americans, mug shots taken in a Russian prison. “CIA officers John Parker, Ellie Sands, and Hector Rodriguez are being held in a maximum security Russian prison for crimes against the state.”

“Who are they?” McDonough ended the live stream and tossed the tablet on his desk. If he could, he’d throw the damn thing through the White House windows. Bulletproof, the windows wouldn’t break, and the tablet thumping to the carpet wasn’t as satisfying.

“John Parker is the CIA Chief of Station in Moscow. Ellie Sands and Hector Rodriguez are two of his deputies.”

“Fuck. So they really did grab our people.”

Bill Simon nodded once.

“Have we had any contact with them yet?”

“None. And the Russians aren’t taking our calls at the moment. The State Department is working every angle they can.”

“Let’s go.” McDonough rose, grabbing his suit jacket from the back of the chair. “I want everyone in the Situation Room. Now.”

Chapter 28

Mike turned on his emergency lights for the drive back to DC. He gripped the wheel, kneading the leather, and Tom watched his pulse throb in his temple and the side of his neck. Twice he took calls from Villegas. Short and clipped, Mike only said that he’d made contact with “Brewer” and that he was “on the way” to securing him.

His personal phone rang as they hit the Maryland suburbs, the exburbs of DC. Mike heaved a long sigh before he answered.

“I was wondering when you would call. I’ve been trying to reach you.”

Tom couldn’t hear the other person over the roar of the road. He watched Mike carefully. Saw his eyes tighten, his gaze narrow.

“Yeah. Okay. We’re on our way. Be there in an hour and a half.”

Mike hung up and turned south, skirting DC and taking the outer loop that would bring them south to Virginia. “Kris needs to see us.”

“Kris? Does he know something about what’s going on? Something from the State Department?”

“He… doesn’t work forthatState Department.”