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I step closer, hands up, and say, “Good afternoon, Colonel Kendricks. Hell of a situation we’ve got here, eh?”
The pistol doesn’t waver. “You’re Sampson, right? Detective with the DC Metro Police?”
“That’s right, Colonel. Good memory.”
Voice sharp, she says, “You and your FBI friend had no right to stop General Grissom from performing his mission. No right!”
I take two more steps, empty hands held up, face friendly. “You may be correct, Colonel, but that’s up to others to decide. In the meantime, what’s your first name? You can call me John if you’d like.”
She shakes her head. Grissom says, “Colonel, you are to—”
“General, please,” she says. “I know what I’m doing.” Her eyes narrow. “And I know what the detective wants. He wants my first name to establish some sort of rapport with me, get me to trust his intentions. To hell with that.”
I say, “Pretty smart, Colonel, but I’ll tell you my intentions straight up, name or no name. It’s to dial down this situation, relax things so no one gets hurt.”
“And how do you plan to do that?”
“Well, maybe you can put your pistol down, reduce the chance of an accidental shooting. That’d be a nice start.”
She laughs. “And what do I get in return? I’ll tell you—I get arrested, right? But armed like this, I still hold a wild card.”
Colonel Toussant and Ned are standing still, watching.
I say, “All right, I’ll concede that. You hold a wild card. What do you plan to do with it?”
“Get you all to back away, move the vehicles, and allow General Grissom to get to the White House.”
I shake my head slowly, sorrowfully. “No, Colonel, that’s not going to happen. The current situation won’t allow that.”
“It has to happen. He has to get to the White House,” she says. “General Grissom has sacrificed so much for this nation, has bled for this nation, has lost his family for this nation. The country needs him like they needed Washington, Grant, and Eisenhower. His time has come.”
Another sad shake of my head. I take a few more steps. “Colonel, you’re smart, you’re experienced, you know that General Grissom is not going to the White House. It’s just not gonna happen.”
Wearily, Grissom says, “Kendricks, it’s over. Put your weapon on the ground.”
Kendricks’s face reddens. “I do that, sir, and what happens? I’ll be arrested, and so will you. Am I correct?” she asks me.
I nod. In hostage negotiations, you never lie. “That’s right, Colonel,” I say. “You’ll both be arrested. I don’t see any way out of that.”
“Fine,” she says, her voice even angrier. “Then this man, General Wayne Grissom, this dedicated and tough and patriotic general—his life, his career, his years of service—he’ll be destroyed, won’t he? He’ll be the subject of hate, scorn, humor. His face will be on the front page of every newspaper, every cable show, every internet site, and he’ll be portrayed as a traitor, this century’s Benedict Arnold. His decades of proud service will be reduced to the cliché of a madman. And then will come the trial, months and months of daily humiliation, followed by a life sentence at Leavenworth. That’s what’s ahead for this great man, isn’t it?”
I’m trying to come up with a reasonable response when Kendricks answers her own question.
“I’m sorry, General, I can’t allow this to happen to you,” she says, bringing up her pistol. She places it against his right temple and shoots him once in the head.
There are shouts, moans, and gasps, then a series of gunshots erupt from behind me, and Colonel Kendricks collapses next to her beloved general, both of them probably dead before they struck the pavement.
Chapter
162
Maria Tucker, pistolstill holstered at her waist, steps onto the suite’s balcony at the Hay-Adams hotel, thinking,It’s gone to shit,as she brings up her binoculars to survey the scene around the White House.
At noon, the charges secretly hidden at the Secret Service observation posts went off on schedule, and she even heard the muffledchuff-chuff-chuffof sound-suppressed sniper rifles taking down other Secret Service agents out there.
Excellent.
But as seconds and minutes ticked away…nothing! Where was the huge tow truck to tear down the fences? Where were the fake delivery vehicles from UPS and FedEx and Amazon that were to roll in and discharge scores of armed men and women? Where were the helicopters going over the supposedly closed White House airspace to fast-drop operators onto the undefended White House roof?
