Page 126 of Cross Down
Jemison looks toward his officers for support and I see his hand move again to his holster, and I lift up my M4—
“Halt this, right now!” comes a loud male voice. “Stand down, all of you!”
And like something from an action movie, General Wayne Grissom, accompanied by another military officer and four men wearing black fatigues and body armor and carrying M4s like mine, start coming right at us like they own the joint.
Ned whispers, “So far, so good. What now?”
“The same as before,” I say. “Grissom doesn’t get past.”
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Among the manytalents a general officer needs is the ability to negotiate, whether with illiterate tribal leaders or an ignorant Congress or an even stupider SecDef, and General Wayne Grissom has this ability. He immediately takes in the scene and checks his watch.
Three minutes to go.
All right,he thinks,getting past these two should be easy, and if we lose a minute or two, it won’t make that much of a difference.He’s still getting to the White House and taking control.
The four Pentagon Police officers move to the side, and Colonel Kendricks keeps pace with him, as do the four heavily armed Pentagon Force Protection Agency members who are shadowing him.
He steps ahead of the four Pentagon officers, puts his hands on his hips, and says, “Well? What seems to be the problem?”
The Black man on the right, the one with an M4, says, “General, the problem seems to be treason. Which is why you’re not going forward and you’re not getting to the White House.”
Once in Iraq, a Humvee driving in front of Grissom hit a land mine, and the shock and overpressure that struck his head and gut back then is nothing compared to what he feels now.
How does he know?
He looks closely and recognizes the man, a DC police detective who had attended some of the principals’ meetings when the president was so desperate to defeat the terrorist attacks. Sampson—John Sampson, that’s who he is.
Grissom shakes it off. “Detective, you’ve obviously gotten some disinformation sent your way. May I ask who your companion is? And who’s in charge?”
The other man says, “Ned Mahoney, FBI. Neither of us is in charge. Believe it or not, we’re having interagency cooperation here.”
“That’s nice, but you can’t stop me,” Grissom says. “Move, right now.”
Sampson says, “So far, we are stopping you. Noon is kickoff time, right? You’re going to stand here and wait while noon slips by. Ned and I have a funny idea about the Constitution. We feel once you’ve sworn an oath to it, it’s your duty to defend it. Guess you’ve forgotten that, General Grissom.”
Colonel Kendricks speaks up. “You two, you don’t have the right to hold the general anywhere! He’s got to get to the White House. The country needs him.”
Sampson shakes his head, says, “If the nation really needs him, there’ll be a Draft Grissom movement at the next political convention. In the meantime, you’re an officer in the U.S. Army. Which is under civilian control. Not the other way around.”
Kendricks says, “You fools, this man has sacrificed everything for this country—blood, sweat, tears. He can’t—”
Grissom gently takes hold of Kendricks’s right wrist. “That’s enough, Colonel.” He lets go of her arm, nods to the two men.
“We seem to have reached an impasse,” Grissom says. “No matter. We’ll reverse course and find another route.”
Grissom thinks,And fast, because all the other pieces are falling into place at this very moment.
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After the generalsays he intends to move, I say, “Ned, you’re up.”
Ned says, “I’m sorry, General, we can’t allow you to leave.”
