“I’m going with basement dweller.”
“Yes. Basement dwellers. But based on what we’ve learned so far, it’s a promising plan.”
“But not a short-term one.”
“No. And that’s what I want to make clear. We’re probably looking at a year. Maybe a bit more.”
He glanced over at Claudia, held up a single finger, and mouthed one year.
Her brow furrowed for a moment, but the number wouldn’t come as a surprise. She’d been the brains behind some pretty convoluted assassinations herself. Still, it was a hard thing to face—a year slinking around the edges of the world with a seven-year-old. Despite that reality, she gave a resolute nod.
Rapp returned his attention to the phone. “You continue to live up to your reputation. Keep me posted.”
After disconnecting the call, he smashed the handset on the Land Cruiser’s bumper.
“Can she do it?” Claudia asked as Rapp picked up his board in order to chase down Anna.
“It’s hard to say for sure, but I can tell you this: I wouldn’t want to be Anthony Cook right now.”
CHAPTER 46
GREENBELT
MARYLAND
USA
IRENE Kennedy sat watching the rain accumulate on her windshield. Beyond was a sparsely populated parking lot surrounding a series of office buildings. There was a strange serenity to the scene that she couldn’t draw from. To the contrary, it seemed to mock her.
The situation had gotten so bad that her only course of action was to risk everything. And even if she came out on top, it was uncertain that anything would be resolved. Democracy was a messy, frustrating compromise that never seemed to last. The American people did it better than anyone, but would that continue? If they stayed on their current trajectory, probably not. But perhaps she could provide the nudge necessary to put them back on track. Back on the path that had made the United States the most successful country in modern history.
If she failed, the consequences would be unimaginably dire. She’d find herself in a very similar position to the one that had killed Mike Nash: cornered, alone, and with the blood of those closest to her on her hands.
Kennedy saw a limousine enter the lot and followed it in the rearview mirror until it pulled alongside. A quick tug on the door handle and she was out, crossing through the rain and sliding into the luxurious backseat before it could drench her. She stayed to the right, using the angle to examine the face of the driver. The fact that he was unfamiliar wasn’t particularly surprising. His Eastern European accent was somewhat more so.
“Good afternoon, Dr. Kennedy.”
A mercenary that the Cooks could be absolutely certain she had no connection to? Someone willing to transport her to a black site from which she would never emerge? At this point, it didn’t much matter. The only thing to do was enjoy the ride.
“This is a backup limousine,” the unnamed driver continued. “The one that took Mrs. Cook to her event will have a mechanical issue and we’ll pull in shortly before she’s finished. When we arrive, make sure you’ve moved to the seat directly behind me. That will ensure that the press can’t see you when the door opens. The window tint will handle the rest.”
“I understand,” Kennedy said simply.
As expected, their arrival was timed to perfection. They’d barely glided to a stop when Catherine Cook appeared on the steps, followed by a swarm of teachers and schoolchildren. Her security detail spoke brusquely into their radios as they controlled the press and scanned for threats.
Through the window, Kennedy could see that Catherine had made real strides in her ability to feign emotion and warmth. Her smile was broad as she shook hands, doled out a few hugs to the children, and finally retreated. A Secret Service agent followed with an umbrella, opening the vehicle’s door just enough for her to slip inside.
The first lady stared straight ahead, her smile fading as the door was slammed shut and a wall of glass rose to separate the driver. She didn’t speak, waiting for the motorcade to pull away before acknowledging Kennedy’s presence.
“I’m told we have twenty minutes. So, make your accusations quickly.”
“I think we’re well beyond that,” Kennedy said, pointing to the side of Catherine’s head. “May I?”
The woman gave a short nod and Kennedy searched her hair and collar for any kind of listening device. Finding none, she scooted close enough that her lips brushed the woman’s ear. “Let’s speak in whispers, shall we?”
Another nod.