Mask of Lies

Lethal Getaway

This was not good, Evan thought as he found his bearings again. Based on the tracker on her motorbike, she was directing herself at the White House.

He tried reaching the president through his phone but in vain. He then instantly alerted the secret service agents at the White House. They should be able to apprehend a single double-agent of the CIA till he reached.

The moment he turned right, a deafening brutal blast rose in the air, shattering his windshield into smithereens as a lorry collided with his Jaguar. The impact was thunderous.

His head banged against the steering wheel as he was shaken hard at the shock and amidst the dizziness he stared through the broken glass. He widened his eyes seeing the driver pointing something at him.

He instantly ducked as a rattle of bullets flew out of the barrel. Insane! He slammed his foot on the rear pedal and as he pulled the car backwards, he swirled the steering wheel making a perfect turn.

He swiftly redirected his vehicle and accelerated, ducking his head as the mad men behind continued to fire those bullets.

Whoever the hell those guys were...they were here for him! The car gained speed within seconds and he changed gear, driving faster, creating a safe distance between him and the criminals. Damn it, there were more alarming things to deal with right now.

He directed himself towards the White House. Though the front gate was closed he could already spot the bodies of two secret service agents.

He stopped his car, cursed at the state in which it was and climbed the main gate, drawing out his Colt 45. He pressed a button on his earpiece and spoke as he approached the men, "This is the director of the FBI. The president is under attacked. Send in more agents right now."

He checked the men quickly and thankfully found out they were both unconscious. He cursed under his breath.

Knowing the president well, he was certain that even at this hour, he must still be in the oval office. He ran there, communicating with the FBI and the USSR at the same time, warning them about the danger that prevailed.

He saw the broken glasses of the large windows of the oval office and he quickly went through one of them, bringing his gun up and shouting as he stopped before the president's messy desk, "Where the hell are you?! Show yourself!"

The door on the west wing suddenly opened and a few shots were fired at him. He quickly threw himself behind the wooden desk and once they ceased, he stood fast and made his gun clicked.

Sylvia had her revolver pointed at the president's head and the blade of a dagger pressed against his neck as she stood right beside him. She threatened, "A single stupid gesture and I'll shoot, idiot!"

He held her eyes and said slowly, not lowering his guard, "You're outnumbered. The USSR and the FBI are both here."

She laughed coldly, "Who cares about what happens to me? I die or I don't...it'll not matter." She made the gun click and President Tolland breathed carefully, "Evan...goddammit listen to her. She's not...joking."

Evan hesitated and then reluctantly lowered the gun. He saw in her eyes...she was simply not afraid to die. The president's life was all that mattered.

She smiled, "Sweet. Now...move aside. Get out." The cold barrel still against the president's head, she tossed the knife away and she grabbed his shirt and pulled him back through the west wing's door.

She warned, "Do not follow me." She kicked the door closing it and she breathed a sigh of relief. She was almost done. Her phone rang and she carefully answered, looking at the number, "When you're done, take the black Mercedes-Benz near the President's park. Lock the president in the boot and go and dump his body in a safe place. After this, consider yourself accepted."

Evan waited for a second, thinking hard about where she could be taking him and then he touched his earpiece, "Block all access. She's holding the president at gun point." She would not make it out of here alive tonight.

He stepped outside, hearing the sounds of a helicopter approaching. It flew over the White House, appearing in his sight and a rope ladder was instantly tossed down.

He ran after it, leapt to grab it and he was lifted right away. His earpiece buzzed as he climbed up, maintaining his balance against all these turbulences. "Sir, she tricked us. She drove through the president's park."

An agent pulled him up and the pilot suddenly exclaimed, "Think I spotted her. On Pennsylvania Avenue!" Evan barked, "Get closer. We need to stop her! Send everyone after her!"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sylvia was driving at top speed, overtaking the very few cars that were on the roads at this hour. She was intrigued when she caught sight of several black cars approaching dangerously.

She could hear the sirens of the police as they joined the squad after her. They were opening fire but she knew they'd not try anything risky, not when they were aware that the President was with her.

The radio in the car crackled and an angry voice spoke, "This is the police. Surrender now or we'll use the brutal way."

She chuckled. They wouldn't. The helicopter above her head was constantly blinding her with this insupportable light. She went off the main road, drove through a narrower one bordered by large apartment buildings to block the helicopter's view.

She would escape them and then suddenly the words that the police were speaking were broken. Was it because she was too far? She saw the metal needles on the speedometer in the car shifting rapidly and erroneously.

As if...as if attracted by a magnet! The hell! Stopping the car or reducing the speed would automatically make the bomb explode before its countdown.

She rotated the wheel, driving in a much spacious road. She flung her door wide open and she retrieved back as the door banged against something and snatched itself away.

Either now or in hell.

She leapt off the moving car without thinking twice. She landed on the hard asphalt and rolled. Her arms in a protective position to cover her face, she rolled till she banged against the slightly elevated side of the pavement. Her halt was brutal.

Her leg turned right while the rest of her body twisted to the opposite side. She let out a sharp cry of pain.

She was sure her right ankle broke during the violent act for the pain was unbearable. She gripped the pavement with her nails and slid excruciatingly towards a street lighting pole.

She grabbed the pole and pulled herself up and leaned against it as a support to stabilize herself. When she finally allowed herself to breathe, her eyes desperately looked at the still moving car, driving all by itself in a straight line.