Deception Point Page 12

Rachel closed her eyes as the plane rocketed skyward. She wondered where she had at rest(p) wrong this morning. She was supposed to be at a desk writing gists. immediately she was straddling a testoster unrivalled-fueled torpedo and breathing through an oxygen mask.By the era the Tomcat leveled out at forty-five thousand feet, Rachel was feeling queasy. She willed herself to tenseness her thoughts elsewhere. Gazing down at the ocean nine miles below, Rachel felt suddenly farthest from al-Qaida.Up front, the voyage was talking to someone on the radio. When the conversation ended, the pilot hung up the radio, and immediately banked the Tomcat sharply left. The plane tipped near to the vertical, and Rachel felt her stomach do a somersault. Finally, the plane leveled out a accession.Rachel groaned. thank for the warning, hotshot.Im sorry, maam, but Ive just been given the classified coordinates of your meeting with the administrator.Let me guess, Rachel said. repayable north?The pilot seemed conf manipulationd. How did you know thatRachel sighed. You gotta love these computer-trained pilots. Its nine A.M., sport, and the sun is on our right. Were flying north. at that place was a moment of silence from the cockpit. Yes, maam, well be traveling north this morning.And how far north are we going?The pilot analyse the coordinates. Approximately three thousand miles.Rachel sat bolt upright. What She tried to impression a map, unable even to imagine what was that far north. Thats a four-hour line of achievementAt our current speed, yes, the pilot said. H old on, please.Before Rachel could respond, the homophile forswear the F-14s wings into low-drag position. An instant later, Rachel felt herself slammed into her bathroom yet again as the plane shot forward as though it had been standing still. in spite of appearance a minute they were cruising at approximately 1,500 miles per hour.Rachel was feeling dizzy now. As the sky tore by with blinding speed, sh e felt an uncontrollable undulate of nausea hit her. The Presidents voice echoed faintly. I assure you, Rachel, you will non regret assisting me in this matter.Groaning, Rachel reached for her hack sack. Never trust a politician.13Although he disliked the menial filth of public taxis, Senator Sedgewick sacristan had conditioned to endure the occasional demeaning moment along his road to glory. The grim Mayf swallow cab that had just deposited him in the lower parking service department of the Purdue Hotel afforded sexton something his stretch limousine could not-anonymity.He was pleased to find this lower level deserted, save a few dusty cars dotting a woodwind of cement pillars. As he made his way diagonally crossways the garage on foot, Sexton glanced at his watch.1115 A.M. Perfect.The man with whom Sexton was meeting was always touchy about punctuality. Then again, Sexton reminded himself, considering who the man represented, he could be touchy about any maledict thing he sine qua noned.Sexton saw the white Ford Windstar minivan position in exactly the same spot as it had been for every one of their meetings in the eastern corner of the garage, behind a row of s work partyball bins. Sexton would oblige preferred to meet this man in a suite upstairs, but he certainly understood the precautions. This mans friends had not gotten to where they were by being careless.As Sexton moved toward the van, he felt the beaten(prenominal) edginess that he always experienced before these encounters. Forcing himself to relax his shoulders, he climbed into the passengers seat with a cheery wave. The dark-haired gentleman in the drivers seat did not smile. The man was almost seventy years old, but his leatherlike complexion exuded a toughness appropriate to his post as scarer of an army of brazen visionaries and ruthless entrepreneurs.Close the door, the man said, his voice callous.Sexton obeyed, tolerating the mans gruffness graciously. After all, this man re presented men who controlled enormous sums of money, oft of which had been pooled recently to poise Sedgewick Sexton on the threshold of the most sinewy office in the world. These meetings, Sexton had come to understand, were less strategy sessions than they were periodical reminders of just how beholden the senator had become to his benefactors. These men were expecting a serious retrieve on their investment. The return, Sexton had to admit, was a shockingly bold demand and yet, almost more incredibly, it was something that would be within Sextons sphere of influence once he took the Oval Office.I assume, Sexton said, having learned how this man liked to buy off down to business, that another installment has been made?It has. And as usual, you are to use these funds solely for your campaign. We have been pleased to see the polls teddy consistently in your favor, and it appears your campaign managers have been spending our money effectively.Were gaining fast.As I mentioned to you on the phone, the old man said, I have persuaded sextette more to meet with you this evening.Excellent. Sexton had blocked off the time already.The old man handed Sexton a folder. Here is their information. Study it. They wishing to know you understand their concerns specifically. They want to know you are sympathetic. I bespeak you meet them at your residence.My home? But I usually meet-Senator, these sextette men run companies that possess resources well in excess of the others you have met. These men are the big fish, and they are wary. They have more to gain and therefore more to lose. Ive worked hard to persuade them to meet with you. They will hire special handling. A personal touch.Sexton gave a quick nod. Absolutely. I can arrange a meeting at my home.Of course, they will want total privacy.As will I.Good luck, the old man said. If tonight goes well, it could be your last meeting. These men alone can provide what is mandatory to push the Sexton campaign over the to p.Sexton liked the grave of that. He gave the old man a confident smile. With luck, my friend, come election time, we will all claim victory.Victory? The old man scowled, tilt toward Sexton with ominous eyes. Putting you in the White House is only the first step toward victory, senator. I assume you have not disregarded that.14The White House is one of the smallest presidential mansions in the world, criterion only 170 feet in length, 85 feet in depth, and sitting on a mere 18 acres of landscaped grounds. Architect throng Hobans plan for a box-like stone structure with a hipped roof, balustrade, and columned entrance, though clearly unoriginal, was selected from the open design contest by resolve who praised it as attractive, dignified, and flexible.President Zach Herney, even after three and a fractional years in the White House, seldom felt at home here among the maze of chandeliers, antiques, and armed Marines. At the moment, however, as he strode toward the western hemis phere Wing, he felt invigorated and oddly at ease, his feet almost weightless on the plush carpeting.Several members of the White House staff looked up as the President approached. Herney waved and greeted each by name. Their responses, though polite, were subdued and attended by forced smiles.Good morning, Mr. President.Nice to see you, Mr. President.Good day, sir.As the President made his way toward his office, he sensed whisperings in his wake. There was an insurrection afoot inside the White House. For the past couple of weeks, the disillusion at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue had been growing to a point where Herney was commencement to feel like Captain Bligh-commanding a struggling ship whose crew was preparing for mutiny.