Sedition (A Political Conspiracy Book 1) (31 page)

Matti had the taxi wait for her while she jogged through the double set of automated sliding chrome and glass doors. She was losing time.

Sitting behind a desk was yet another security guard. He was looking down, reading a paper. As Matti approached, she pulled her cell phone from her pocket and put it to her ear. The manila envelope was tucked under her arm.

“Yes, Mr. Secretary,” she said loudly enough to break the guard’s train of thought and draw his attention to her. “I am here now. I have the court order, sir. We should be fine.” She paused. “No, sir, I don’t think armed agents are necessary. I imagine the good people here will cooperate without any issues.” She paused again as she leaned on the granite. “Yes, sir. I will inform you as soon as it’s done, and I will use a secure line.” Matti pushed a button on the phone, placed it on the granite ledge and curled her lips into a smile.

“Sorry about that,” she said. “My name is Matilda Harrold.” She flashed the green NSA badge and pulled the envelope from under her arm. “I’m with the National Security Agency and I have a court order here. I need to talk with whoever controls the antenna on the top of this building.”

The man sat slack jawed. He fumbled for the phone while keeping eye contact with the imposing but beautiful woman in front of him. He wasn’t moving quickly enough.

“Immediately, sir.” Matti looked down her nose at the man while she leaned in.

“Yes, ma’am.” The guard nodded and picked up the receiver. He dialed an extension and then nervously asked for a supervisor and the person in charge of the tower.

“Thank you.” Matti winked at the man condescendingly. She was inwardly surprised at her playacting. She was good.

A woman appeared from behind Matti. “May I help you?”

“Yes.” Matti again held out her NSA badge. “My name is Matilda Harrold. I am with the National Security Agency. I have a court order here for access to the cellular transmissions from the top of this building.”

“What is this about?” The woman glanced at the envelope under Matti’s arm but did not ask to see it.

“Given the sensitivity of the issue, I can’t go into detail,” Matti replied, thinking on her feet. “But I will tell you that because of the president’s memorial service at the Capitol, we have intelligence that suggests we temporarily halt cellular reception in the area.”

The woman didn’t seem convinced. “We haven’t received any prior notice of this.”

“Neither did I.” Matti wasn’t lying. She held up her finger and pulled her phone from the desk. “Hang on a minute. My phone is buzzing. I’m getting a call.” Of course, the phone hadn’t rung or buzzed, but neither the woman nor the guard questioned her about it. They were caught in the vortex that Matti Harrold had become.

“No, sir,” she answered. “They’ve not cooperated yet.” Matti glanced up at the woman and bit her lip nervously. “No, sir, I don’t…” She paused for effect, as though the imaginary caller was interrupting her. “Really, sir…” Matti dramatically pulled the phone from her ear as though the caller had raised his voice in anger. Then she put it back to her ear and nodded before putting her hand over the phone. She looked at the woman.

“This is the undersecretary and he says if you can’t cooperate, he’ll need to speak with your supervisor immediately. I would suggest against that. Can you help me?”

The woman folded her arms and bit the inside of her cheek. She wasn’t sure what to make of Matti Harrold, but she didn’t think shutting down the tower for a few minutes would cause much harm. The FCC probably wouldn’t even know about it. On the other hand, if she failed to comply and national security was at stake, the consequences could be far greater.

“Okay,” she relented. “Tell the undersecretary we’ll comply.”

“Good choice.” Matti took her hand from the phone and told the imaginary caller all was good. “Give me a fax number, and I’ll have the department fax over your copy of the court order. It’s under seal at the moment, but should be released once the memorial is over.”

Matti knew the lie was a gamble. If the apple-bottomed woman knew anything about the law, she’d call her bluff and demand to see the contents of the manila envelope. Incredibly she didn’t.

“I’ll take care of the tower. We’ll shut it down for the remainder of the memorial and then we will flip it back on. John here will get the fax number for you.” The woman disappeared into a small hallway at the opposite end of the lobby.

Matti turned back to the guard and, borrowing a pen, jotted down the fax number for the building. She scribbled the digits on the back of the envelope. She couldn’t believe her ploy had worked.

Granted, the chances of the bomb-triggering phone call coming through the tower atop the L Street building were small, but getting one tower shut down at least lessened the likelihood of the plot being successful. She’d done everything she could do. Now she just had to wait.

Matti noticed a small thirteen-inch television on the guard’s desk. The sound was off, but Matti could see the memorial was underway. Speaker of the House Felicia Jackson was at a lectern, speaking. The news coverage cut between shots of her talking and of the audience. There was an occasional shot of the First Lady and of various cabinet members. The rotunda was packed. Then it appeared as though people were getting up from the seats and walking toward the exits. The speaker was no longer at the podium. Something was happening.

Across the bottom of the screen there was text crawling from right to left:

Explosion at Hanover-Crown Institute in Georgetown. Unknown number of dead and injured. Authorities will not confirm if explosion is accidental or if it is connected to earlier arrest at Arlington National Cemetery. Capitol Rotunda under immediate evacuation…Developing
…

Matti couldn’t believe what she was reading. The incidents had to be connected. She wondered if Bill Davidson was dead. Was he the bomber, or was he a target? Matti’s mind was spinning with the possibilities and the repercussions.

“Do you want to listen?” the guard asked politely. “I can turn up the volume for you.”

“Yes,” Matti responded without taking her eyes off the small screen, “Thanks.” She began to pray for divine intervention as she half-listened to the speaker addressing the memorial. Matti told herself again she’d done everything she could do.

“This is a live feed we are watching of the president’s memorial service. And it appears as though the hundreds attending are being ushered quickly out of the rotunda by Capitol Police. At least I think they are Capitol Police. There may be Secret Service involved too.”

Matti watched, confused, as people began to move from their seats in the rotunda. Who had ordered the evacuation? Did her superiors believe her theory? Was the evacuation merely a precaution? The video switched from the interior of the Capitol to the exterior. The scene unfolding on the television screen looked to Matti as though it were straight from an action movie. There were men and women, dressed in suits and dresses, running down the eastern steps and onto the Mall. They looked frightened. It reminded Matti of the scenes of lower Manhattan as the towers fell.

The news anchor wasn’t offering much insight about the explosion at Hanover, and Matti turned her attention from the television. She looked to her left toward the front entrance of the building, where she saw four uniformed police officers exiting their cars at the sidewalk just behind her cab. Standing with them was her supervisor.

Chapter 44

John Blackmon sat in his stone leather seat next to the wet bar aboard a Lear 35 at Washington Reagan National Airport. He had chartered the flight and footed the seven-thousand-dollar bill himself. Three Secret Service agents sat in the seats behind him. One aide sat in front of him, next to the bar.

“How quick is the flight?” he asked the aide.

“Right at two hours, Mr. Secretary. The trip is right hundred miles from here to Miami International. “

Blackmon nodded. He sat back and thought about what lay ahead for his nation.

It was a country that, for a long time, he believed was heading in the wrong direction. There were too many taxes with too few services. Immigrants and welfare recipients seemed to get more from the system than hardworking college graduates. It wasn’t fair.

Despite it being outside his purview as Secretary of Veterans Affairs, he’d often challenged the president on policy decisions far outside of his bailiwick. He questioned monetary policy. He argued over HUD funding and immigration reform. There were times he acted as though he was the Secretary of Commerce in the midst of cabinet meetings.

A lot of beltway insiders were certain Blackmon wouldn’t last a second term. In an effort to reach out to all political mindsets, President Foreman kept Blackmon on board, making a concerted effort to pull Blackmon more closely into the inner circle of the White House. It was a genuine effort at consensus building. Blackmon saw it as an act of war. As he saw it, the more closely the president held his enemies, the more control he had over them.

So when Blackmon’s longtime supporter, Sir Spencer Thomas, suggested to him they could eventually effect change as long as he played the game, the Secretary of Veterans Affairs eased his pursuit of policy change and instead took the president up on his offer of friendship. And when the vice president was diagnosed with a non-operable malignant brain tumor, the talk began that Foreman might eventually nominate Blackmon to the number two spot.

Serendipity was at work. Within months, they would be a heartbeat away from the presidency. Foreman’s popularity and the other party’s disorganization assured he would be a shoo-in at the next general election. Or, if Foreman’s popularity waned, Sir Spencer was certain there were other measures they could take.

Then the unthinkable happened. The vice president hung on for months with the help of experimental drugs, and after his death the nomination process stalled for weeks. And Foreman dropped dead before Blackmon could assume the vice presidency.

If the aneurism had waited to pop just a day later, Blackmon would likely have ascended to the throne without even trying.

He was crushed. But then his friend, the knight, proposed an outlandish plot, suggesting Blackmon file suit to stall the installation of the Speaker of the House. While the courts hammered out the constitutional questions, the knight assured the secretary they could figure out a way to take control regardless.

The secretary was not a huge fan of violence, but it was what it was. He was happy to do his part if it meant becoming the leader of the free world.

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper about the size of a business card. On it, the knight had written a ten-digit number.

Blackmon picked up his cell phone from his lap and pressed the numbers one at a time. He took a deep breath and pressed SEND.

He looked out of his window toward the National Mall. He waited. Nothing.

“Mr. Secretary.” The flight attendant was standing in front of him. She was girl-next-door cute. “Could you please turn off your phone until we’re in the air? We’re ready for take-off.”

He nodded at the flight attendant and held up his index finger, asking her to wait just a moment. This was a charter flight; she could play by his rules.

Blackmon checked the series of numbers and realized he’d misdialed. Quickly, while smiling wryly at the attendant, he dialed the correct series of numbers and pressed send. He pulled the phone to his ear and heard it ring once.

Chapter 45

Matti walked quickly from the lobby security desk to the chrome and glass sliding doors at the building’s entrance.

“Let me explain,” she began, addressing her boss. He was closest to her as she rushed to the sidewalk. The Metro police officers were leaning up against the taxi. “Arlington was never the target. It’s the Capitol. They’re trying to blow up the Capitol with everyone inside. I’ve got the proof, sir. A stack of journals is in the trunk of the taxi here.” She motioned to the cab. The driver had gotten out of his seat, opened the door, and was standing against his car in the street, concerned he might not get paid. He was smart enough not to say anything yet.

“The bombs are triggered by cell phones. I’ve targeted a handful of towers and attempted to get the owners to shut them down to prevent the detonation calls from connecting.” Matti was speaking quickly and was losing her breath. She was afraid her boss would use the slightest pause to interrupt her.

“I convinced the people here to shut down the tower on top of this building until the memorial service is over. It’s a shot in the dark, sir. But I am hopeful the call connects through this tower and the attack is stopped.” Matti glanced over the supervisor’s shoulder and could still see a black column of smoke rising in the distance. “Well, at least I was hoping to stop the attack at the Capitol.” She followed the smoke upward as it turned to gray and dissipated. She thought about Bill Davidson, wondering if she’d failed him. She worried she’d failed her country.

Matti was certain she’d ruined her career.

“We know,” her boss responded, uncharacteristically sympathetic.

Matti’s eyes narrowed. “I’m confused, sir.”

He stepped closer to her and lowered his voice. “After your little escapade last night, the FBI determined you needed to be watched. They’ve been following you, with my knowledge, since you left headquarters. We know you went to the Hanover Institute. We know you went to the coffee shop. We knew, before your cabbie did, where you were headed. We weren’t sure of the order of your stops. But we knew.”

“How did you know where I’d be going?” Matti slipped her hands into the front pockets of her jeans and wrapped the fingers of her right hand around her cell phone. “Were you tracking me through a cell locator?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Remember the guy with the computer in the coffee shop?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s one of us. Well, he’s FBI. He was a tail. When you asked to use his laptop, it worked out perfectly for us. He quickly checked your keystrokes and the sites you visited. We knew you were looking for cell towers, and we knew which three addresses you’d highlighted.”