Immune (The Rho Agenda #2)(77)
79
The cacophony in the White House briefing room made it difficult for the television audience to discern what was being said. In the midst of the melee, CNN’s star White House reporter, Rolf Larson, held sway.
“As we have been reporting for the last hour and a half, the president of the United States was assassinated this morning as the presidential motorcade made its way toward a political rally in Rockville, Maryland. Despite the best efforts of the staff at Walter Reed Army Medical Center, President Harris was pronounced dead at 10:25 a.m., leaving this city and the rest of the country in shock.
“Although details of the assassination remain unclear, sources within the FBI and the Department of Treasury indicate that it is only a matter of time before the killer is caught and brought to justice. Even now a broad net has been cast around the Washington, D.C., area, with all highways and airports shut down, ports and waterways sealed, so the assassin cannot escape.”
The reporter paused as the CNN anchor interrupted. “Rolf, this is Karen Whitcomb. Can you tell us if you are hearing anything from your extensive contacts within the administration and the Justice Department about who the killer might be?”
Rolf nodded into the camera. “Karen, although no one is willing to go on record at this early stage of the investigation, my sources are telling me that this is almost certainly the work of the same man believed to have conducted a string of recent assassinations. I am, of course, speaking of the man at the top of the most-wanted list of every law enforcement agency in this country. Jack Gregory, better known by his street name, the Ripper.”
“Rolf, this is truly shocking information. Thank you so much for the type of inside reporting that only you can deliver. I’m sorry, but I am getting word that the new president, formerly Vice President Gordon, is about to speak to the nation from the oval office. We go now to the president of the United States of America.”
The image on camera shifted to the presidential desk in the oval office. The newly elevated president stared into the camera, backdropped by the seal of office, his eyes shining with moisture as his jaw tightened with determined resolve.
“My fellow Americans. It is with deepest sadness that I assume the mantle of the presidency. We have all just endured a most terrible shock, one that has left the nation stunned with its loss.”
President Gordon’s eyes narrowed. “But before I speak of that loss, let me assure you, the American people, that this vicious murderer, who has attacked our nation, has failed in his principal aim. This cowardly act has accomplished nothing except to rob a generation of a fine leader, a man I was proud to call a friend. I assure you that the wise constitutional measures that the founding fathers put in place are functioning. This government goes on without interruption.
“I also want to say something to the man that murdered our president. Know this. No matter where you run, no matter how deep you burrow—no power on earth can stop us from finding you. As president, I vow this on the Constitution of the United States of America.”
President Gordon paused to clear his throat. “Now, let me speak of my friend. President Harris was a man of vision. He was a man who knew who he was, a man elected by the people of this country because they looked into his eyes and recognized a man who would always do what he believed was right.
“This fine man, a man I was proud to serve under, put his very life at risk by doing exactly what he pledged. He cracked open the dark shroud of secrecy that has hidden wondrous technologies away from mankind. By opening the Rho Project to worldwide view, he took a tremendous risk, one that has now cost him his life.
“Once again, I am here to say to this assassin and to those who sponsor him…you have failed! The people of the United States of America will never be cowed or intimidated. In the face of tribulation, we will persevere. If you think that, by this atrocity, you have slowed the release of Rho Project technologies, then you are sadly mistaken. You have only redoubled our national resolve.”
The president dabbed at his damp eyes with a clenched knuckle.
“I pledge to you now that, as your president, I will follow through on the noble work started by this great man. I ask for your prayers and support in the difficult days to come. May God be with Mary Beth and the rest of the Harris family. May God be with us all.”
80
Garfield Kromly blinked into the glare of the headlights as he turned onto Jefferson Davis Highway. Shit, he was tired. Two f*cking a.m. and just getting home. Barely enough time to catch a catnap before heading back to Langley. A left on 15th Street and then straight across Crystal Drive and he was back at the apartment he had called home for the last eleven years. Water Park Tower South.
The high-rise apartment tower, or condos if it tripped your trigger to call them that, ran north–south, bowing gently away from the river. It was exactly the opposite of its twin tower a little farther north. A pair of twin parenthesis, offset from one another in an oddly artistic way, each having a side that looked out over the Potomac River, just north of Ronald Reagan National Airport.
Kromly pulled into his parking spot, rolling down the window to nod at a pair of CIA agents prominently posted near the building entrance. And those were just his visible guardians. Amazing, really. Since President Harris’ assassination yesterday, all of the high-level CIA staff had their special bodyguards, the CIA’s best of the best, assigned to babysitting duty. And that was in addition to the security that had locked this city down as tight as a snail’s ass, turning a normal half-hour drive at this time of the night into an hour-and-a-half crawl down the GW Parkway.