Page 123 of Cross Down
The vehicles blow apart and there’s screaming and yelling, and Sylvester thinks he sees the black fencing of the White House come into view.
Casey says, “Man, when you say you’ll take care of it, you take care of it.”
Chapter
153
At the intersectionof Seventeenth Street NW and Constitution Avenue—the southern end of the Ellipse and the South Lawn of the White House—Ned Mahoney swerves his government-issue Impala to a stop. He and I get out.
Part of the plan. Send out a false alarm to get people out of the area of the White House.
As we trot up Seventeenth Street, people are running away from the area, just like they did on 9/11 when rumors spread that a hijacked airliner was coming to strike the White House.
There’s a row of vendor trucks selling everything from hot takeout food to ice cream, all of them abandoned. The keys to the third truck are still in the ignition. Ned starts it up, drives it back to the Impala, and parks it directly in front of the sedan. The two vehicles effectively block the entire intersection.
He gets out, takes the keys, and tosses them down a sewer grate.
I ask, “How in hell did you know the details of that special ID?”
Ned leans into the driver’s side of the Impala and pops open the trunk. “Three years ago, I was reviewing DC emergency planning that had the agency’s involvement. That one just stuck in my mind.”
The streets are distressingly empty of vehicles, though blocks away in each direction I can see the flashing lights of police cruisers.
“Feel like we’re the only survivors in a zombie movie,” I say, going with Ned to the trunk of his car. He pulls out two ballistic vests withFBIin bright yellow letters. We help each other put them on, and he says, “Time?”
“Ten till noon,” I say.
“All right,” he says, coming out with an M4 automatic rifle and a twelve-gauge Remington pump-action shotgun. “Got a plan, John?”
Without asking, I take the M4. “Their plan is for General Grissom to get to the White House and take control. You and I are going to stop him. Simple, huh?”
“Simple as it gets,” he says, racking a shotgun shell into the chamber.
I say, “Why this intersection?”
He grabs a pair of binoculars, looks south down Seventeenth Street. No vehicles moving. Ned says, “This is the quickest way to get to the main White House gate from the Pentagon. He’s a general. He won’t do anything different.” Ned lowers the binoculars. “I think.”
I check the M4 for ammo, go to the trunk, see a belt with two pouches for thirty-round magazines. Not a lot of firepower to save the nation, but it’ll have to do. I take the belt and say, “If they won’t stop, fire at the tires. That’ll slow them down. But I have a feeling they’ll stop.”
“Why’s that?” Ned asks.
“Because even if Grissom is planning a coup, he still has to have drivers and bodyguards with him. Working stiffs. And they’ll pause when they see our little roadblock and won’t attack us with guns blazing.”
Way down Seventeenth Street, flashing blue and red lights appear.
“I hope,” I add.
Chapter
154
Ned lifts upthe binoculars again and says, “Hope’s not a plan, John. We’ve got a small convoy coming our way. Looks like two police cruisers, three big SUVs. Maybe Tahoes or Suburbans.”
I work the bolt to the M4, and now there’s a round in the chamber. “Time?” I ask.
“About eight minutes to noon.”
I say, “From everything I’ve learned from Mason’s laptop and the thumb drives, the assault kicks off at noon, with Grissom at the White House making a speech to the world. We’re not going to let that happen.”
