按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
The front door to the unit opened and Richardson； Price； and Drake stepped out fast； heading for their cars。
Fifty feet away； in the shadows； Jon Smith watched them through the windshield of his vehicle。
〃It's Richardson； Price； and Drake；〃 he said into the phone。
〃I know；〃 Klein replied。 〃I recognized their voices… except for Drake's。 So did the president。〃
Smith glanced at the transmitting unit； set in the passenger…seat well； that had relayed the conspirators' words to Camp David。
〃I'm going to move in； sir。〃
〃No； Jon。 Look around you。〃
Smith saw two black sedans moving into position to block the front entrance of the motor court。 Another pair was closing off the rear exit。
〃Who are they； sir？〃
〃Doesn't matter。 They'll deal with Richardson and Price。 Just stay low until it's all over； then get the hell away。 I'll expect you at the White House at first light。〃
〃Sir…〃
The windshield exploded as a bullet shattered the safety glass。 Smith threw himself across the seat as two more shots whistled into the sedan。
〃You said he was dead！〃 Price screamed。
〃He will be；〃 Richardson said grimly。 〃Get in the car。 Sergeant； you make sure this time！〃
Drake didn't bother to look back。 He had spotted the blackedout sedan the instant he'd stepped out of the unit。 Smith's vehicle was parked in the shadows of some Dumpsters； a good call。 But Smith had forgotten about the moon。 Cold and bright； it washed the car's interior； illuminating him perfectly。 Drake had taken his first shot before Smith had realized he'd been made。 Now Drake was moving to make sure of his kill。
He was fifteen feet from the car when suddenly the headlights snapped on； blinding him。 Drake heard the roar of the engine and realized what was happening。 But even he wasn't fast enough to get out of the way in time。 As Drake launched himself into the air two tons of cold metal smashed into him； catapulting him over the car。
Behind the wheel； Smith straightened up and kept his foot on the accelerator。 His peripheral vision registered dark shapes spilling out of the sedans forming the blockade； but that didn't stop him。 He saw Richardson and Price jump into a car and back up fast。 Turning the wheel； he tried to cut them off。 For a split…second； he saw Richardson's expression through the window； then felt a tremendous jolt as the two cars mashed together in a tangle of metal。
Smith hung on to the steering wheel； trying to push Richardson's car off to the side。 Then he looked up and saw the two sedans at the exit。 Spinning the wheel； he hit the brakes and went into a controlled skid。
Frank Richardson felt his car rock as Smith's vehicle spun away。 Then he too saw the blockade。
〃Frank！〃 Price screamed。
Richardson slammed on the brakes； but too late。 Just as he threw his hands over his face the car smashed into the front ends of the angled sedans。 Seconds later； a piece of jagged metal tore through his throat as he was hurled through the windshield。
Smith leaped out of his car； running hard。 He got close enough to see Richardson's body sprawled across the hood before a pair of strong arms caught him。
〃It's too late； sir！〃 a voice called out。
Smith struggled but was dragged back。 A moment later； a huge explosion slammed him to the ground。
Gasping and coughing； Smith struggled to breathe。 Lifting his head off the asphalt； he saw a giant fireball engulf the three vehicles。 Slowly he rolled away； oblivious to the shadows darting around him； the urgent voices calling to one another。 A pair of hands hauled him to his feet and he found himself looking at a young； hatchet…faced man。
〃You don't belong here； sir。〃
〃Who。。。 are you？〃
The man pressed a set of keys into Smith's palm。
〃There's a green Chevy around the corner。 Take it and go。 And； sir？ Mr。 Klein said to remind you about your meeting at the White House。〃
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
Numb and exhausted； Smith somehow managed to drive himself to Bethesda。 Walking into the house； he dropped his clothes on the way to the bathroom； turned on the shower； and stood under the hot； stinging spray。
The pounding water drowned out the screams and explosions of the night。 But no matter how hard he tried； Smith couldn't erase the image of Richardson's car slamming into the blockade； the fireball erupting； the sight of Richardson and Price； human torches。
Smith stumbled into the bedroom and lay down naked on the covers。 Closing his eyes； he set his soldier's mental clock and let himself be swept away into a long； dark tunnel。 He felt himself floating end over end； like an astronaut who'd lost his tether and was doomed to tumble endlessly through the cosmos。 Then he felt something bump him and with a start woke up to discover that he was clawing for the gun on the night table。
Smith showered again and dressed quickly。 He was heading for the door when he remembered that he hadn't checked his phone messages off the secure cell。 Quickly he scanned the list and discovered a note from Peter Howell。 Something was waiting for him on his puter。
Smith fired up his machine； ran the encryption program； and downloaded the file Howell had left。 Reading it； he was stunned。 After making a copy； he saved the text in a secure file and typed in a quick E…mail Howell would get on his mobile phone： Job well done… and better。 e home。 Drinks are on me。 J。 S。
As dawn broke； Smith left the house and drove through the empty streets to the west gate of the White House。 The guard checked his ID against the puterized list and waved him through。 At the portico； a marine corporal escorted him through the silent corridors of the West Wing and into a small； cluttered office where Nathaniel Klein rose to greet him。
Smith was startled by Klein's appearance。 The head of Covert…One hadn't shaved and his clothes looked as if they had been slept in。 Wearily； he indicated that they should sit。
〃You did a tremendous job； Jon；〃 he said quietly。 〃People owe you a debt of gratitude。 I'm assuming you came through unscathed。〃
〃Bumped and bruised but otherwise intact； sir。〃
Klein's wan smile faded。 〃You haven't heard a thing； have you？〃
〃Heard what； sir？〃
Klein nodded。 〃Good。。。 That's good。 That means the blackout is holding。〃 He took a deep breath。 〃Eight hours ago； Harry Landon； mission director at the Cape； was told that there was an emergency onboard Discovery。 When he managed to reestablish voice munication； he learned that。。。 that the crew was all dead except for one member。〃
He looked at Smith sadly and the tremor in his voice betrayed his loss。 〃Megan's gone； Jon。〃
Smith felt his body stiffen。 He tried to speak but couldn't find the words。 The voice he heard didn't seem to belong to him。
〃What was it； sir？ A fire？〃
Klein shook his head。 〃No。 The orbiter is functioning perfectly。 But something ripped through the craft and killed the crew。〃
〃Who's the survivor？〃
〃Dylan Reed。〃
Smith raised his head。 〃The only survivor？ We're sure？〃
〃Reed's gone through the entire craft。 Everyone is accounted for。 I'm sorry。〃
Smith had lost people before to sudden； violent death。 He knew that his reaction was typical of a survivor： his mind flashed on