With the sirens blasting away, McLaughlin kept his foot pressing into the pedal. The fire truck sped along 17th Street and away from the White House. In the rear of the fire truck, Dunham fought to keep the large, extended ladder under his control. The traffic was sparse because many of the vehicles which had been affected due to the attack had been removed and the vehicles on the road were only a few in number. Mostly it was government or law enforcement vehicles that were in operation, including emergency vehicles. Anyone who didn’t work for the government or law enforcement hurried to get out of the way.
Driving along 17th Street wasn’t a problem for McLaughlin.
The police cars and other agency vehicles pursuing them were a problem. There was even a black helicopter flying overhead, keeping right with them.
McLaughlin let out an impatient sigh, shook his head, and glared into the rear view mirror. He and Dunham were in quite a fix, and the only thing ahead of them for the next several miles was the World War II Memorial, the John Paul Jones Memorial, and the Tidal Basin. None of which were promising prospects for him to lose their pursuers. He could take either a right or a left onto Constitution Ave, but one led to the Theodore Roosevelt Bridge and the other eventually led back onto Pennsylvania Avenue. He decided to keep going straight for the moment. His options were thin as it were so all he had going for him was to persevere and to keep moving forward.
One thing was for certain.
He had to lose the fire truck. And he felt bad for Dunham because the younger man was now implicated as an accomplice into the assassination of the President of the United States of America. If the fireman hadn’t of been with him, he would still be at the White House with his squad instead of running from the law with him.
It all seemed unreal somehow. Events for the past several months had seemed to pass by in a blur and things for the entire world had just fallen apart. Now the world was experiencing hardships like never before, and a man who magazines were calling a savior had appeared seemingly out of nowhere with the promise of a better life for everyone. It made McLaughlin sick to think about it. Unfortunately, people were starting to look to Tristian Salvadori for the answer and he and Dunham were suddenly unwitting pawns.
The race continued as the fire truck hurried toward the end of 17th Street.
McLaughlin suddenly had a plan. “Josh!” he shouted.
Dunham turned his head to look toward the fire truck’s cabin. “Yeah!”
“Can you swim?”
Dunham stared at the man driving the truck. Then, he saw why he had been asked the odd question. They were just passing the World War II Memorial and directly ahead was the John Paul Jones Memorial, standing tall and reaching for the sky. But beyond that, there was a long stretch of blue.
It was the Tidal Basin.
“What are you thinking?!” Dunham shouted.
McLaughlin couldn’t resist a wry smile. “I’m thinking…we’re gonna go for a swim.”
The fire truck maneuvered around the Memorial and as soon they were past it, McLaughlin floored it for all it was worth. Dunham held on for dear life as the fire truck bounced hard over the curb and sped onto the green grounds of the Memorial. Their pursuers slowed down and some of them headed off for Independence Avenue with intentions of cutting off their suspects. They had no idea what McLaughlin was already planning to do.
At a hundred miles per hour, the fire truck bounced back onto the road, cut across traffic on Independence Avenue and hit the railings hard. The truck bounced up even as it broke through and then disappeared from view. Astounded law enforcement agents stared and then when they could react, several of them formed a crowd as they began to peer over the edge.
The fire truck was sinking into the Tidal Basin
The Tidal Basin was a man-made inlet adjacent to the Potomac River in Washington DC. It was part of the West Potomac Park and was surrounded by the Jefferson Memorial and the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial. As Barrington peered out through the window of the Storm Breaker and watched the pursuit below, he realized that the Basin was where the chase was heading for.
He didn’t believe it was going to end there unless they stopped it soon.
“Come on, Ace!” he exclaimed. “Get us over Independence Road and let’s see if we can get him to stop!”
LeBeau nodded. “Yeah, yeah! Alright already!”
Shiva and Erin sat by in silence, praying for McLaughlin and Dunham. They believed the two men were innocent of the false charges suddenly thrust upon them and hoped to get to them before anyone else did.
LeBeau and Bandjough flew past the chase and maneuvered around the John Paul Jones Memorial. The fire truck could only turn left or right onto Independence Avenue and so they came to the road and turned the helicopter about. They saw the fire truck coming and for just a split second, they thought it was going to turn right. Instead, it bounced over a curb and drove onto the grounds of the park below.
Barrington stared. “What is he doing?”
Bandjough shook his head, but everybody heard his response through their headsets clearly. “Looks to me like he’s going right off the deep end.”
Below them, they saw the fire truck hit the railings and then they watched it plunge right into the basin.
“Take us down there!” Barrington exclaimed.
LeBeau and Bandjough brought the Storm Breaker directly over the Tidal Basin where the fire truck had taken its plunge. The surface of the water made small ripples as the helicopter’s blades spun and brought them closer.
“They’re not coming back up!” LeBeau exclaimed.
Barrington pulled open the door and before anyone could stop him, he dove into the water below. Shiva hesitated, but then he went in after him. A few minutes later, they both resurfaced. Erin looked down at them from the open doorway and they shook their heads.
“What are they saying?” Bandjough asked her as he prepared to toss them a line to pull them back up out of the water.
Erin shrugged. “I’m not sure. I think they mean to tell us that Chuck and the fireman are…That they didn’t make it.”
A few minutes later, when both Barrington and Shiva were back inside the Storm Breaker, they discovered what the two men had found.
“They’re not there,” Barrington said softly. “Chuck and the fireman…both are gone. We couldn’t see them anywhere down there.”
Erin paused. “If they’re not down there…then where are they?”
Barrington didn’t have an answer.
A search had begun in earnest in an attempt to find McLaughlin and Dunham, but there was no sign of them. They were not in the Tidal Basin as hours of searching passed by. As the sun was beginning to go down, two men, soaked to the bone, made their way through the park having left their concealment from under Kutz Bridge. They kept away from the main roads as they used the trees in the park to conceal their movement. On the park road in front of them, they encountered a problem.
A vehicle was parked on the side of the road and a man was leaning against the hood with his arms folded across his chest as if he were waiting for someone.
McLaughlin and Dunham watched him from their cover.
“Is that…is that Lenox?” Dunham whispered.
McLaughlin looked at him and nodded.
Lenox tilted his head. “Come on out,” he said conversationally. “I know you’re there. I just heard you.”
The two men remained where they were. Dunham felt bad for whispering but he couldn’t see how Lenox could have heard him.
Lenox turned his head and looked in their direction. “I haven’t got all night, and neither do you.”
McLaughlin stood up.
“What are you doing?” Dunham whispered.
“I don’t see anyone with him so I’m going to see what he wants.”
Without another word, McLaughlin stepped out into the open and began to approach Lenox. Dunham hesitated, but then he followed. When the two of them got to the road, they found Lenox watching them. Other than that, the ATD agent remained where he was.
Lenox shook his head. “I can’t believe you guys. The President gets assassinated, and you two go out for a swim.” He paused. “How was the water? Did you catch any fish?”
McLaughlin narrowed his eyes. “I wouldn’t take this matter as lightly as you seem to be taking it.”
Lenox shrugged. “I’m not the one who went out for a swim. I’m also not the one who declared to the world that Tristian Salvadori is the Antichrist and he is also the one responsible for assassinating the President. When you did that, you put a target right on your back. Not only that, but --” He aimed a thumb at Dunham. “-- you dragged this poor guy with you.”
“We didn’t assassinate the President, but I promise you, I will find out who did.”
“It was supposed to be me.”
McLaughlin stared. “What?”
“I was supposed to take the rap for this. Not you.”
McLaughlin and Dunham exchanged puzzled looks.
“What are you talking about?” McLaughlin demanded.
Lenox shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Maybe this all works out for the best.”
Dunham glared at him. “Are you saying you know who killed the President?”
Lenox looked at him, but then he decided to ignore the question. He turned to McLaughlin and tossed him the keys.
The big man caught the keys and frowned. “What is this for?”
“You want answers?” Lenox paused for effect. “Check out the exhibits of the Sculpture Garden. I was supposed to, but since you two are the ones who just made it to the top of the Most Wanted list, you need to go. But go now. Otherwise, the answers you seek are going to disappear and no one will be able to help you.”
With that, he moved away from the car and began to head down the road.
“Hey, Lenox…”
Lenox stopped, turned around and looked at McLaughlin.
“Why are you helping us?”
Lenox chuckled and shook his head. “I’m not helping you. I’m helping someone else.”
“Who would that be?”
He paused. “I serve at the pleasure of the President of the United States. Isn’t that what you Secret Service agents say?”
McLaughlin nodded.
“Well…maybe you’re not the only one who says that.”
“Are you saved?”
Lenox frowned. “What?”
“Are you saved?” McLaughlin asked again.
Lenox hesitated, but then he shook his head.
“Do you even understand what this is all about? What all of this is really all about? The vanishings, the peace treaty in Israel…what happened here today. Look, this is the end of the world as we know it. You’re either for Him or against Him.” He paused. “You need to accept Him now. You need to believe in Him right now.”
Lenox shook his head again. “I can’t.”
“Why can’t you?”
“Because I cannot accept something I don’t deserve.” He turned and began to walk away.
McLaughlin watched him. “That’s the point!” he exclaimed. “No one deserves it! It’s called grace.”
But Lenox simply waved and kept on walking.
McLaughlin and Dunham watched him for a moment. Then the two men climbed into the car.
“You don’t really think this is a trap, do you?” Dunham asked.
McLaughlin shook his head as he started the car. “No. I don’t. But if it is…we’ll find out soon enough.”
He turned the car around and headed for the main roads. If they didn’t get stopped or discovered, they could make it to the Sculpture Gardens in less than an hour. What they would find there was anyone’s guess.
It was late at Belgrade Memorial Hospital when Tom Friend entered the building. Without making his presence known, he made his way to the private wing. The nurse at the nurses station was occupied with a phone call so he had no trouble passing by unnoticed. He made it to the end of the hall, looked back to see if anyone was watching, and then he stepped into the private room of Hank Sumter.
Friend closed the door and slowly approached the bed. He frowned when he came to the realization that the bed was empty. He checked the private lavatory and found it to be empty. He looked into the closet and discovered if there had been clothes inside, they were gone now.
Frowning, Friend realized there was only one thing left for him to do.
In his office, Shrenko was reading Revelation. When the door to his office slammed open against the wall, he jumped, startled by the abrupt intrusion. He looked up only to find Friend in the doorway.
Not wasting any time, Friend glared at him. “Where is he?”
“Who?” Shrenko inquired. Then, he recalled their earlier phone conversation. “Mr. Sumter…? He’s in his room. He --”
“He’s not in his room. The bed is empty. There are no clothes in the closet. Looks to me as if your patient got up and left. But from what you’ve told me, I was under the impression he was unable to move about. Now you have a missing patient…and I’ve got to find him before he does anything stupid.”
“He couldn’t have gone too far.”
The two men raced out of the office. They began a search of their own, and if they had to, they would search through all of Belgrade, Maine, to find Hank Sumter.
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