Sabotage (26 page)

Once the repairs were complete, he and Zimmer would make sure private and federal agencies were the first to hear about Vince and Karl's new venture. There would be plenty of time for that. Right now, they would enjoy each other’s company during a hard day's work and spend the nights reliving the past and making dreams for their futures.

+ + +

The helicopter touched down in the grassy clearing. Congressman Tony McKnight waited until the pilot told him it was okay to step out. He could see the president waiting at the far end of the clearing. His stomach turned. He didn't know why he'd been summoned and, truth be told, he wondered if there were snipers hidden deep in the woods. Maybe the president had lured him there to execute him.

He tried to remind himself that the Chinese were the only ones who knew about McKnight’s involvement in the incidents that unfolded in Djibouti. The warning was clear: keep your mouth shut, and we’ll be in touch. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. There had been more than a couple of occasions in the preceding weeks when he’d spotted an onlooker who seemed out of place at a primary stop.

After receiving the package with his moneyman's head, he'd almost panicked. Almost. Disposing of the head hadn't been easy, but he had his ways. For a solid eighteen hours, twelve minutes, and three seconds, he'd considered dropping out of the race. There was President Brandon Zimmer to consider, and there was also a chance the Chinese might say something.

As the days passed, that became less and less likely. There'd been reports from China that Vice Premier Wang Ling had died in his sleep while on a trip to Hong Kong. That could not have been a coincidence, and it served as a further warning to him.

So here it was, possibly the final confrontation with President Zimmer. The congressman tried to steady his legs as he stepped out of the helicopter and started to make his way across the field. The president was dressed in what McKnight considered outdoor gear: heavy work boots, blue jeans, and a T-shirt. There was no Secret Service to be seen. The helicopter lifted off once again, buffeting him with the downdraft.

Still, President Zimmer stood there waiting, his face completely unreadable. Tony wondered whether he could have killed the president if he had a weapon. No, that was just silly. There was no way someone wasn't watching. As soon as the idea came into his head, he kicked it away, and he continued walking.

McKnight had no idea where he was. They hadn't told him, and it wasn't like he carried a GPS around. They’d even taken his phone from him before lifting off. When the president summoned you immediately answered his bid. It was better to face the fire than to cower in the shadows.

He'd never seen Brandon with what looked like a full week's worth of stubble on his face. Zimmer appeared to be in his element, whereas McKnight was still clothed in a full suit and tie. The president seemed preoccupied, though. He must’ve been making some kind of decision in his head as McKnight stepped closer, finally within arm's reach. Then, the congressman realized the president was wearing earbuds.

Zimmer pressed a finger to his left ear and said, "Sorry, I was just listening to a little work music. I can't tell you the last time I had time to listen to music by myself. Must be the outdoors." The president chuckled and looked like his usual self. He reached out his hand, "Sorry to call you out here on such short notice, Tony."

"I live to serve at your pleasure, Mr. President,” McKnight said, flashing what he hoped was a convincing confident smile.

"I assume my people have already briefed you on what I wished to talk about."

"No, Mr. President. They didn't say anything. They just told me where to be and that I might be gone a couple of hours."

The president smacked a work glove on his thigh. "Damn. Thought I'd sent them that email—maybe I didn't—Hell, I don't know. This simple life - you should try it sometime, Tony. I've got to say, it sure has a way of clearing your head. Anyway, down to business."

Here it comes
, he thought, although Brandon seemed a little too at ease considering what he was about to do, but perhaps Zimmer was more ruthless than he had ever imagined possible. Either way, the congressman wouldn't back down.

"Tony, I just wanted to thank you for everything you said when everything went down in Djibouti. I can't tell you how much it means, especially during an election year. I saw what some of our other friends were saying, and frankly, I would have thought that you would have picked up the 'Zimmer is an idiot' banner, too."

My God! Did he just bring me here to express his gratitude?

Relief flooded through McKnight’s body like the hallowed touch of an angel. It was everything he could do to keep his legs from buckling.

"Mr. President, I just did what I thought was right."

"I'm glad to see that you and I have that in common, Tony. Despite what happens in the coming months, I really hope we can continue to work together, facing the challenges our country must resolve. I value your friendship and our strong working relationship."

"I share your sentiments, sir."

"The political arena has a funny way of testing men’s fortitude and character. I've lost some very good friends because they turned out to be liars and cheats. They’d present one image to the public, but live a completely different life in private. It sickens me sometimes. And I’ll tell you, I’m not embarrassed to say that there was a point where I thought I might not seek reelection." Zimmer gestured to the woods all around him, to the Smoky Mountains in the distance.

"It would be easier to come out to a place like this and live peacefully the remainder of my days. I would turn off the news, put on some headphones, and listen to some old country music while building something I could be proud of." The president paused as if considering that option seriously. Then, he looked back at McKnight and said, "But the world needs men like us, Tony. We have decided to put our lives on hold in order to make this country, this world, better. I will fight tooth and nail to make sure that I've done the best job I can.” He exhaled, ending his sermon. “Well, anyway, it's something to think about, but for now, why don't you come join us for lunch? I'd like to introduce you to some of my friends."

+ + +

Two days later, Vince walked into Karl's room to deliver his morning coffee. He set the cup down and nudged his friend's shoulder. Karl's eyes fluttered open. It took him a moment to realize that Vince was there. There was something different in Karl's eyes, not a look of vacancy, but something close, and that was when Vince knew. "I'll be right back, okay?" he said to his friend. Karl didn't nod, but continued to stare with that empty look.

Everybody else was gathered downstairs eating breakfast in the kitchen. A hush fell over the room as they saw Vince’s face when he entered the room.

"It's time,” Vince said simply. None of them said a word, just got up from their chairs and followed Vince upstairs.

Karl was still breathing, but now his eyes were closed. He was focusing on that one last task, that one last test of strength before his body gave way. The king-sized bed had been moved to the middle of the room to make room for all the medical equipment. Vince saw Dr. Higgins increase the pain medication upon entering the room.

After they had all found spots around the bed, Vince reached under the mattress. He pulled out a full bottle of Jack Daniels, opened it, raised it in the air, and said, "To Karl."

Everybody repeated in unison, "To Karl."

Vince took a swig and then passed the bottle around, first to the president and then it was passed to Cal, Daniel, Gaucho, Trent, Dr. Higgins, Neil, Christian, the grandfather, and then back to Vince. He replaced the top, and placed the bottle in the crook of Karl's arm.

All the words had already been said. They’d enjoyed their time, Karl probably the most. There had been visitors along the way, including friends from the Army who stopped in to pay their respects. There would definitely be more when they held the funeral, but for now, it was just these men.

There, in the cabin with a red tin roof, the grandfather reached out a hand and placed it on Karl. Daniel followed suit, and soon, they all reached out to touch the dying warrior. There they stood, waiting, until finally Dr. Higgins gave Vince a nod to signal that Karl had died.

In that moment, Vince stopped fighting back the tears. Of course he was sad for his friend. He would miss Karl more than he’d ever missed anyone, but he cried because he was happy beyond measure that Karl's last days had been spent with fellow warriors who had been more than willing to put everything else aside to help escort him into the valley of death. Colonel Vince Sweeney looked around the room, smiled, and hoped that one day he might be so lucky.

+ + + + +

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