Page 156 of Enemy of My Enemy
No. He stopped breathing, every single one of his hopes clinging to the seconds she took, the hitch in her breathing, desperately wishing she’d say he was just in surgery, just down, but not out.
She looked dead into the camera, as if she was looking straight into Ethan’s soul. “President Jack Spiers was observing a top-level interrogation of a high-value target at Langley at the time of the blast. He was gravely injured in the explosion and is currently being kept alive only with life support at Bethesda Naval Hospital.”
Gasps rose around the room, and in the background, Pete squeezed his eyes shut.
“His status will not improve,” she continued.
Tremors settled over Ethan’s hands, his arms, his whole body. His legs gave out, and he gripped the back of the couch before he fell to the floor.
The high-value target. It must have been Leslie’s clone.
“Moments ago, by the governance of the twenty-fifth amendment of the United States constitution, I was sworn in as president of the United States.”Elizabeth’s eyes slid closed.“It was, and always will be, the saddest moment in my life.”
Ethan’s blood burned, and he grit his teeth as his fingers ripped through the leather. He swayed, barely able to stand. Somewhere, he heard some kind of noise, a low, keening wail, but he couldn’t place it.
“We also lost Lawrence Irwin, President Spiers’s chief of staff and former director of the CIA. Other senior officials were seriously wounded in the blast.” Elizabeth squared her shoulders and looked straight into the camera. “The FBI and CIA are working diligently to uncover the full details of what transpired this morning. We will continue to brief the American public as more information comes to life. Until then, please join me in praying for our president, a man we all had too short a time with, and a man who will forever be one of my closest and dearest friends. I plan on continuing his important work and his legacy, and I am proud to call myself a Uniter.” She stilled, closing her eyes briefly. “For everyone who is grieving, everyone who is wounded, and everyone who is lost, I give you this promise. We will purge this world of the terrible forces of darkness and hatred. We will find the people responsible for this act, and we will bring them to justice.”
Behind Elizabeth, Pete’s shoulders shook as he stared at the carpet. The camera cut away, showing the faces of the press pool for a moment. Shock, grief, tears. Hushed whispers. Half-bitten lips and furious scowls.
She said no more, merely nodded to the camera and strode off the podium. Pete followed in her wake, and then the screen cut and held on a silent picture—a close-up of Jack, bright-eyed and laughing as he sat at his desk in the Oval Office.
His smile hit Ethan like a shotgun blast to the heart.
He stumbled backward, away from the couch like he could escape the message, the moment, run from the terrible truth. Red-hot fury roared, swirling around blinding grief, the shattering of his heart. Both choked him, forcing rancid vomit up his throat until he could taste his own failure on the back of his tongue.
He hadn’t been there. He hadn’t been able to save Jack.
Madigan’s plan had succeeded.
Whirling, his arms swung out, clearing the top of one of Faisal’s decorative tables. A vase shattered, followed by a statue and a decorative plate, Arabic etched in gold letters swirling across the surface. Everything clattered to the marble as he fell to his knees.
That keen, that mournful, warbling wail was back, louder and louder, surrounding him until his bones vibrated with it. He realized it was him, his own body—his own soul—making that dreadful noise.
Nausea crashed through him. He fell forward, vomiting on Faisal’s white floor. He gasped, but couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but drag in ragged half breaths that left him lightheaded. Vomit clung to him, a thin dribble hanging from his lips.
Hands grabbed his shoulders, spun him slowly. Adam’s face floated in front of him, watery on the edges, and then Faisal, kneeling beside Adam. They both had a hold on him, as if he were about to explode or burst into a hundred different pieces or vanish into thin air.
Adam moved first, grasping the back of his neck and pulling him forward until he fell against Adam’s chest, the side of his face buried in Adam’s button-down. Tears and snot and leaking spit drenched his shirt, but Adam held on tight, wrapping him up in both arms.
They sat on the cold marble floor as Ethan’s heart and soul bled out of his body.
* * *
Chapter 51
Bethesda Naval Hospital
Two Hours Earlier
Steady beeping pulled Jack awake.
He tried to focus. Hazy shapes floating in his vision. Something dark was beside him, a lump of black against a sea of muddy tan. He reached for the darkness, and a needle pinched on the back of his hand, the sting of an IV line tugging when he moved.
A grunt, and then the shape moved, sitting up.
“Mr. President?” It loomed closer, and Jack’s vision finally focused in on Scott.
Exhausted didn’t even begin to describe how he looked. Devastated would be closer. Something that had gone through a meat grinder. A man who had lost against his demons. “Scott?” His voice cracked He coughed.
