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.Three thousand uniformed police.Two hundred of his own agents.Two thousand volunteers.Everyone was in place.Fiske sat back.All he could do was wait.Thomas Bolden tramped awkwardly across the snow, his arm draped over Jenny’s shoulder.Despite the bandages wrapping his chest and the heavy dose of over-the-counter lidocaine spray-on painkiller, his chest throbbed ferociously.He’d just have to take it for a while.The National Mall was crowded to bursting with spectators.From the steps of the Capitol building to the sloped foothills leading up to the Washington Monument, it was a sea of bobbing heads with more arriving every minute.Bobby Stillman led the way, not afraid to push, squeeze, or plain shove her way through the grinding crowd.For over an hour, Bolden had argued that he should find a Secret Service agent and inform him of their fears.His mother wouldn’t hear of it.One mention of a threat to the President-elect, and he would be whisked off to a holding cell where he could be interrogated.The first thing they would do was ask for his driver’s license, or social security number, and run him through their computers.Word would come back that he was wanted for murder, and that would be the end of that.Case closed.Innocent or not, he was a fugitive whose word had lost its value.They had come to keep watch.To pray that they’d spot the attempt on Senator McCoy’s life in time to warn her.They stopped at a spot beneath the television tower.The strains of the Marine Corps Band reached their ears.All brass and drums, a chest-thumping call to arms.“Nothing like a Sousa march to get the blood flowing,” said Harry.“Makes me want to straighten up and fire off a salute.”“Makes me want to run in the other direction,” said Walter.The presidential stand was two hundred feet away.The seats behind it were nearly full.Bolden spotted Von Arx of the FBI, and Edward Logsdon, Charles Connolly, the author, and of course, James J.Jacklin.The Scoundrels Club.Only Ramser and Schiff were missing.Bolden checked his watch.Eleven fifty-five.The inauguration would begin in five minutes.He glanced over his shoulder and surveyed the crowd.There were uniformed police everywhere.According to his mother, Scanlon had been hired to enhance perimeter security and provide a “secure but porous event environment.” He knew what that meant.They would be dressed in plainclothes, but armed and with a mandate to intervene when necessary.Some, he knew, would be looking for him.“Walter,” he said.“Got your little radar kit?”The short, paunchy man fished the device out of his back pocket.“You having the same thought I am?”“Just curious to see how many of our buddies are hanging around.”Walter switched on the device.A stable black dot indicated the base unit.Flashing X’s identified RFID transmissions, or in this instance, Scanlon men who were “chipped.”“Nothing,” he said.“Let me run through some bandwidth.”Abruptly, the Marine Corps Band stopped playing.All heads lifted to the Capitol steps.The air was quiet except for the distant thumping of the Blackhawk helicopters hovering at a thousand feet to maintain air security.The President and First Lady descended the stairs, followed by Senator McCoy, and the vice president and vice president-elect.“Holy shit,” blurted Walter, bringing the tracking device closer to his eyes.“Man, they are everywhere.I’m counting eighteen at least within a hundred yards of us.”“Just doing their job, right?” said Bolden.James Jacklin took his seat on the reviewing stand next to the two men who had preceded him as secretary of defense.It was no coincidence that both were employees of Jefferson Partners.He pushed his hands deep into the cashmere-lined pockets of his overcoat.The vice president had been sworn in a few minutes earlier.Now it was time for the main event.He looked around him.It was hard not to be awed by all the pomp and ceremony, the gold piping and crenellated bunting and the long, red carpets.The flags hanging on the Capitol building were as big as city blocks.It was the Roman Empire all over.Christ, he loved it.What a party this was.He remembered his first inauguration, thirty years ago.Back then, it had been on the east side of the Capitol, where the winds howled at you across the Anacostia plains.In 1841, “Old Tippecanoe,” William Henry Harrison, had braved the fierce cold for ninety minutes to shout his inauguration speech.A month later he was dead from pneumonia.It took “the Gipper” to change things.Ronnie wanted to face west when he took the Oath of Office.West toward the open country.West toward opportunity.Manifest Destiny wasn’t dead.No, thought Jacklin, his chest expanding, it was just beginning.People talked about the American Century.It would be the American millennium.This country was born to rule.And he planned on being at its helm.Oh, not in office.Never.The real power was behind the throne.No truer words had ever been spoken.The French had the right word for it.An éminence grise.A gray eminence.He would rule from the shadows.Catching Director Von Arx’s eye, he nodded.Von Arx looked away without the slightest indication he’d seen him.Charles Connolly sat behind the First Lady, her very own lapdog.Chief Justice Logsdon stood on the reviewing stand, the drab black jurist’s robes making him look more like a squat, dyspeptic funeral attendant than the nation’s ranking interpreter of the Constitution.For an instant their eyes met.Logsdon ducked his head, as if he were shaking off a bee.They were wrong.All of them.McCoy would not join them.Not now.Not ever.She was the renegade.Her gall enraged him.Who did she think she was to turn down an offer to join the club? In six months, she would only be worse.Their only chance was now.Why was he the only one to see it?Jacklin smiled smugly.He knew they were forming against him, whispering to one another, planning his ouster.None of it bothered him a whit.On this chill morning with the wind out of the east snapping the American flag and the sky as blue as faded denim, he felt supremely secure.In control.Jacklin had his own plans.“They’re leaving,” said Walter.“What do you mean?” Bolden stood at his shoulder.“Who’s leaving?”“The Scanlon men.They’re taking a hike.” Walter held out the electronic device for Bolden to see.The X’s that denoted the Scanlon operatives moved steadily toward the perimeter of the screen.He looked around him, knowing it was hopeless in this crowd to try and spot them, but doing it nonetheless.Bobby Stillman yanked the handheld tracking device out of Walter’s hands.“This is it,” she said.“It’s happening now.He’s pulling them out!”The loudspeakers broadcast Senator McCoy taking her oath of office.“I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will, to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States.”Bolden searched the rows of seats behind the President.It took him a moment to find Jacklin [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]