15
President Ann Kinji waited in her office for the unlikely cast of characters to arrive. She was briefed on each individual and was intrigued by them all. Sensing that at least one of them was certifiably nuts, she requested that a team of psychiatric experts be on hand in the conference room. Each of her guests would have a private meeting in that room before seeing Ann. Those evaluations were now finished and the indicator light on her screen flashed.
Dr. Malik’s face appeared in the primary frame. “Madam President, I examined each individual as requested. I found tendencies toward narcissism in both Bryce Otto and Paul Tracy. Both are also prone to delusional, grandiose visions of themselves.”
“Are they dangerous?” Ann asked.
“Not usually, not alone. They are easily manipulated and can be dangerous when paired with someone else who is.”
“Is that what we are dealing with here?”
“Yes, quite likely so. Clyde Tracy pulls Paul’s puppet strings. Clyde, as we already knew from background investigation reports, has sociopathic behavior. He gave us confirmation, tentative of course without further testing, that he is indeed a sociopath.”
“He is dangerous?”
“Yes, probably so.”
“And Bryce? Who is his puppeteer?”
“President John Williams, Madam President.” There was a long silence that Dr. Malik broke by clearing his throat and adding, “I make no political statement. I am merely reporting my findings.”
“I understand.”
“Tom and Serena Wilcox and the children are all cleared. We found no reason to suspect mental health issues in any of the five.”
“The children? Why are children here?” Ann was alarmed. She’d had no idea that children might be caught up in all of this.
“I don’t know the answer to that.”
“I want the children moved to a secure location, set them up with pizza and movies, anything they want. Get Breyana on that. Send the others in after President Williams arrives. You can babysit them until then?”
“Yes, of course, Madam President.”
“Dr. Malik, thank you and your team for your service. It should go without saying, but this is confidential.”
“Of course, Madam President.”
“Of course,” whispered John from the Listening Room his secret staffers had set up for him. He sounded the alarm. Within minutes he had five covert professionals staring back at him. He didn’t know where they came from, or who they were – he didn’t need to know. His people handled all of that. Whoever these men were, they operated completely off any records. He wasn’t sure they were even fully human.
John’s phone lit up. “Yes? No, I’m unavailable. I don’t care what you tell her. I was available, and now I’m not.”
Breyana brought that message to her boss. “He says he’s not available. He’s not coming.”
Ann felt shivers running down her spine. Something seemed off about this, what could it be? Could he know what was going on? If so, how did he know? She gasped. He was listening. She was sure of it. The more that horrible thought sank in, the more she realized that she never felt alone in her office, even when she was alone. That had to be it. Bugs.
“Madam President?” Breyana looked worried.
Ann scrambled for a pen and paper, hard to find these days, since she seldom wrote anything with real paper. She managed to find a notepad with her Presidential seal on it. She scribbled: “Be careful what you say. Bugs in here.”
Breyana’s eyes flew open wide. She nodded. “Do you need for me to reschedule your appointments now that President Williams can no longer make it?”
Aloud Ann said, “Yes, please postpone the meetings until the President can make it.” Silently, she wrote: “Get them out NOW. Undisclosed location, secret service.”
Breyana nodded. Aloud she said, “I’ll move those appointments around after I check in with President William’s staff.” Then she grabbed Ann’s notepad and wrote: “You too?”
Ann nodded. “Thank you, Breyana,” And because she couldn’t resist, and knew he was listening, she added, “I hope that John isn’t ill. I don’t know how we’d do without him.”
Breyana paused at the door, but Ann waved her to go. It took only ten minutes for Breyana to get the message to the secret service detail, and another ten minutes for the group to be loaded back up in the three sedans.
All passengers were seated comfortably, all but Bryce, who was instructed to lie down in the backseat, even though the windows were tinted, should he be seen through special ops glasses. Hiding Bryce from prying eyes was successful, but the twenty minutes it took to move the group was too long. Deep in the pit of the White House parking catacombs lurked five hulking men.