AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Who's your source for that little gem?"
"Somebody who's seen a lot of unmarked cars entering the subbasement of the Treasury Department in the dead of night."
"So the Treasury people are burning the midnight oil."
"No lights go on in the building. My guess is they're sneaking into the White House through the utility tunnel and congregating in the Situation Room."
"Think what you like, but you're dead wrong. That's all I have to say on the subject."
"I'm not going to drop it," Mayo said defiantly.
"Suit yourself," Fawcett replied indifferently. "It's your funeral."
Mayo dropped back and watched as Fawcett walked through the security gate. The presidential adviser had put up a good front, he thought, but that's all it was, a front. Any doubts Mayo might have entertained about sinister maneuvers emanating behind the walls of the nation's executive branch were swept away.
He was more determined than ever to damn well find out what was going on.
Fawcett slid the cassette in a vineotape recorder and sat down in front of the TV screen. He ran the tape three times, examining every detail until he knew what Mayo had caught.
Wearily he picked up a phone and asked for a secure line to the State Department. After a few moments the voice of Doug Oates answered through the earpiece.
"Yes, Dan, what is it?"
"We have a new development."
"News of the President?"
"No, sir. I've just had a talk with Curtis Mayo of CNN News.
He's onto us."
There was a taut pause. "What can we do?"
"Nothing," said Fawcett somberly, "absolutely nothing."
Sam Emmett left the FBI building in downtown Washington and drove over to CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia. A summer shower passed overhead, moistening the forested grounds of the intelligence complex and leaving behind the sweet smell of dampened greenery.
Martin Brogan was standing outside his office when Emmett walked through the anteroom door. The tall ex-college professor offered an outstretched hand. "Thank you for taking time from your busy schedule to drive over."
Emmett smiled as he took his hand. Brogan was one of the few men around the President he genuinely admired. "Not at all. I'm not a desk man. I jump at any excuse to get off my butt and move around."
They entered Brogan's office and sat down. "Coffee or a drink?" Brogan asked.
"Nothing, thanks." Emmett opened his briefcase and lain a bound report on the CIA Director's desk. "This spells out the Bureau's findings until an hour ago on the President's disappearance."
Brogan handed him a similarly bound report. "Likewise from Central Intelligence. Damned little to and since our last meeting, I'm sorry to say."
"You're not alone. We're miles from a breakthrough too."
Brogan paused to light a ropelike Toscanini cigar. it seemed oddly out of place with his Brooks Brothers suit and vest. Together the men began reading. After nearly ten minutes of quiet, Brogan's expression softened from deep concentration to curious interest, and he tapped a page of Emmett's report.
"This section about a missing Soviet psychologist."
"I thought that would interest you."
"He and his entire United Nations staff vanished the same night as the Eagle's hijacking?"
"Yes, to date none
