The Oracle Year(81)

The helicopter’s interior was huge, nothing like he’d expected, almost like a small airplane’s cabin. The seats were upholstered in white leather, each with the seal of the United States of America on a piece of navy blue fabric on the headrest. Five were empty, three were occupied.

“Will!” Miko said. “Thank God.”

Hamza sat next to her, staring fixedly at the bulkhead in front of him. Leigh Shore sat alone in the row behind them.

“Have a seat,” Jim Franklin said, climbing into the helicopter behind him. Will immediately took the open seat next to Leigh.

“Are you all right, Leigh?” he said.

Leigh nodded, her eyes wide, staring at him.

He put a hand to his head, realizing what she was seeing. The wig and the sunglasses were long gone, presumably still sitting on the floor of room 1964 at the Waldorf. A marine entered the cabin through a small door in the front of the aircraft.

“Seat belts, ladies and gentlemen. We’ll be lifting off in about five minutes,” he said, then turned around and returned through the little door.

Will leaned forward and reached through the seats in front of him. He clasped Hamza by the shoulder.

“It’s going to be all right,” he said.

“No. It’s not,” Hamza said.





Chapter 32




Anthony Leuchten sat and stared at the Oracle. He looked so young. Like one of the White House interns.

This man—Will Dando—had thus far refused to sit down at the long, undistinguished faux-wood table that took up most of the government-standard windowless conference room. He stood with his arms folded, his friends behind him, a dark expression on his face. His eyes moved across the room without pause, scanning back and forth across its few features of note—a pitcher of water and some glasses on the table. A contingent of Secret Service and U.S. Marine guards, Leuchten himself, and a few of his aides. A small camcorder was placed on a tripod at the head of the table, oriented to capture both sides at once, which seemed to occupy a good deal of the Oracle’s attention—his eyes kept returning to it, several times for each pass around the room.

He wasn’t reacting the way Leuchten would have expected. He was, in fact, cool as a cuke—acting like he was annoyed some cop had pulled him over for speeding.

At least his friends were terrified.

Hamza Sheikh had both arms around his wife, as if he were trying to protect her from an oncoming tidal wave. Leigh Shore stood near them, still with the deer-in-headlights look she’d had ever since she’d been offloaded from the helicopter.

They obviously understood their situation.

But not the Oracle. He’d been abducted by agents of questionable provenance and flown to Quantico Marine Base in Virginia. He’d been bundled into this little room and introduced to the chief of staff to the goddamn president of the United States of America. And then . . . nothing. Barely a word so far.

Leuchten considered the many tactics at his disposal—anything from women to waterboarding was just a phone call away. The choice of direction was important, of course—manipulation that worked on one target could be a complete failure on another. And failure, here . . . it could not be allowed.

He took another look at Will Dando, taking in everything he could understand from the man’s body language, adding to it the things the Coach had learned about him, and the dossier the FBI had hastily prepared once they’d learned the Oracle’s real name.

When Leuchten added all that together, the truth was that he knew quite a bit about Will Dando.

Apparently not enough, however.

The Oracle wasn’t acting like a man in his position should act. The jig was up. They had him. He was powerless, but he was acting like he held all the cards. Like he knew something they didn’t—which, frankly, was almost certainly true. He was the Oracle, after all.

Leuchten turned and addressed his aides, a self-absorbed batch of position jostlers who’d sell their mothers into slavery in exchange for face time with the right influencer.

“I’m going to need you out of here, folks,” he said.

For a moment, Leuchten thought he’d get some pushback. Frustration was apparent on each smooth, well-groomed face, despite the fact that these were career politicians, better than poker champions at hiding their emotions. There was no influencer more influential than the Oracle. This was nothing they wanted to miss.

“Today!” Leuchten shouted.

The men and women grudgingly left the room, most taking the chance for a last, lingering look at the Oracle and his companions.

“Folks,” Leuchten said, once the room was empty other than the Oracle and his companions, “I’m going to interview you one at a time, and we’ll need to keep you separated while I do that.”

Hamza shook his head and closed his arms more tightly around Miko.

“No. No, that will not happen,” he said. “I’m not leaving my wife. Not after what you bastards did.”

One of the marines, a captain, caught Leuchten’s eye with a questioning look. He considered.

“All right. We’re not trying to be inhumane. This is Quantico—one of the safest places on the East Coast. Huge marine base. I know it’s difficult to accept, but you should think of yourselves as our guests while you’re here.”

The Oracle hmmphed skeptically at this, which Leuchten found hugely irritating.