Page 103 of No Vow Broken

The Marine One helicopter was sitting in front of the church, slightly off to one side, to allow room for several Secret Service SUVs. As I headed toward the lead SUV, Slash caught up with me. To his credit, he didn’t ask if I had lost my mind. I spared a quick glance at his face. I could tell he was in full operational mode, which was good, because that meant he didn’t think I was having a wedding panic attack.

Several Secret Service agents intercepted us near the first SUV. Barely slowing, I yanked open the driver’s door and shouted, “There’s a nerve agent attack planned on the valley and church. Alert everyone and have some agents follow us if they can.”

“Do as she says,” Slash yelled. “Clear it with Director Carlson and say it came from me.”

Before they could respond, I slammed the door shut. Slash jumped into the passenger seat, and I hit the gas the moment his butt hit the seat. The fact that Slash believed in me before I had even had a chance to tell him what was going on warmed my heart.

In the rearview mirror, I saw Secret Service agents running toward the church and agents talking on handheld radios.

“Nerve agent attack?” Slash said as we went over a bump.

I quickly brought him up to speed on the white truck, the canisters I’d seen in the back of the truck and the dive suit, which I realized wasn’t really a dive suit at all but a hazmat suit.

“That’s what was bugging you about the white truck?” he asked.

I nodded. “When Rose adjusted my angle for the photo, I looked up the valley to the rise where the truck turned and felt the breeze on my face. At that moment, it all fell into place.”

I was worried we’d be stopped at the police checkpoint at the exit to the main road, but the way was clear. Obviously, the Secret Service had radioed ahead to the police to let us through.

I made the right turn on four wheels, but it was close. This SUV was heavy and sluggish, not at all like Basia’s. I’d forgotten it had armor. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t do us any good against poison gas.

“This is the second time I’ve let you drive,” Slash said grimly. “Don’t get used to it.”

I rolled my eyes as I roared down the middle of the street, past spectators, news crews, and paparazzi. I hoped no one stepped into the street to see what was happening. Behind me, I saw a police car with a siren had joined the chase, as well as a couple of Secret Service SUVs. Suddenly people were scrambling to see what was going on.

“He turned off on this road here.” I pulled on the wheel turning the SUV a bit more carefully onto the side road. “He needs to be high, but not too high.”

“I get what you’re saying, but wouldn’t the gas be too dispersed by the time it traveled all the way down the valley to do that much damage?”

“I do. That’s why I think he has another plan. At first, I thought it would be gas because of the canisters, but while thinking it through, I had the same concerns you did. Now, I believe he’s going to release whatever he has in those canisters as a liquid into the small stream that runs down the valley and drains into the bay just past the church. It just makes more sense and would allow them to transport much more agent if they disguised the liquid in larger compressed gas oxygen canisters.”

Slash fell silent, thinking it over. “That’s brilliant deductive thinking,” he said after a minute.

“It’s logical. When I was trying to find and rescue Elvis with the SEALs, I read a bunch of the agency threat reports for Somalia. One of those talked about nerve agents. I wasn’t really interested, but I was bored on one of the flights, so I read it. The most common nerve agents, like sarin, are colorless and odorless. They’re easily soluble in water, and when exposed to air, they aerosolize quickly. Significantly, sarin gas is heavier than air, so it retains its density and accumulates in low-lying areas. People who are exposed to even a small drop of sarin will have symptoms in seconds and it can be lethal in minutes.”

“Watch out for that hole,” he warned, and I maneuvered the SUV around it. “I see where you’re going with this. If he dumps enough sarin into the stream, it will vaporize as it moves downstream. There will be no stopping it at that point. The vapor cloud will hug the ground and be pushed by the breeze and terrain right toward the church. Agents guarding the perimeter up the valley might not even have a chance to alert anyone before they themselves are incapacitated.”

“Exactly. I think we’re on the right track with this, Slash. I’m willing to risk extreme humiliation on my wedding day and be wrong about this rather than be right and not have done anything.”

“I’m with you on that one.”

The fact that he trusted me so completely, and was there to support me, meant more than I could ever say. I’d potentially just created what might go down as the single most embarrassing moment in papal and presidential history, fully documented by hundreds, if not thousands, of photographers and paparazzi, and he hadn’t flinched. If there was any doubt at all I was marrying the right man, it vanished in a puff of air.

The road we were on was twisty and tree-lined, but at least it was paved. As we came to each of the few side roads we encountered, I’d slow so we could look for any evidence that a truck had passed that way recently. Fortunately, the side roads were dirt and gravel, and it had rained last night. We hoped a truck would leave telltale tire tracks or markers as it left the pavement.

We had traveled for a couple of miles, and based upon the position of the sun, it appeared that the road was bending back toward the bay and the bottom of the valley. A part of me wanted to doubt my conclusions, while my intuition assured me it fit. I had to continue, because I couldn’t afford to be wrong.

I’d begun to worry we had missed where the truck exited when we crested a small rise and saw a dirt road going off through the trees. This looked promising. There was a puddle just off the road and we could see multiple tire tracks.

I slammed on the brakes, jammed my feet into my shoes, and jumped out of the SUV to examine them. Slash joined me in the mud as I scrunched up my wedding dress so I could bend down and keep it as clean as possible.

Slash pointed to wet marks on the gravel. “This gravel hasn’t had time to dry. Given that it is in the shade, I would estimate that someone has gone past here in the last hour or so.”

“That has to be our guy,” I exclaimed and started to climb back into the car.

Slash blocked me with his arm and walked me to the passenger side. “My turn to drive,” he said. Despite the urgency of the moment, he opened the door for me, helped me up, and tucked my dress inside before closing the door.

Just as we headed down the road, a police car and Secret Service SUV appeared on the road behind us with another truck with a satellite dish close after it. Wonderful. The news media had found us.

---