Page 141 of Enemy Within
“Sir, with all due respect, youcannotcome with me. This is the White House and this is a Secret Service operation—”
“Son, I co-wrote the book on urban warfare, and that includes fighting within urban structures. That bunker is secured so that there is only one entrance in or out, and that’s through the elevator. You sent the rest of your team away, but you’re strapping up for a mission, which means you’re about to do something that you know is ri-god-damn-diculous. And no matter what you think, you can’t do it alone. Iknowwhat you’re planning.” General Bell arched one eyebrow at him. “Am I on the right track?”
Welby hesitated. Could he trust General Bell? He still didn’t know. Pete hovered as well, watching him. If he couldn’t trust Bell, could he trust Pete? Pete was friends with Jennifer. How had he missed who she was?Whatshe was?
He closed his eyes and took a breath. Paranoia had seized Levi, taken hold of him until he almost blew apart.
If he’d learned one thing from Ethan, and from President Spiers, it was that they were stronger together. Everyone, always. He locked eyes with General Bell, and with Pete, and then nodded. “All right. We need all the explosives you can carry.”
“HOLY GOD, WELBY, WHATEVER you’re doing, make it fast.”
Word spread quickly that he was on the move, attempting a breach. The teams at the East Wing entrance weren’t having any luck. Agent Beech had taken command in the Situation Room. He was within, protecting General Bradford and Director Mori. He also had a front-row seat to what Jennifer was up to in the bunker.
They’d established a live feed from the PEOC to the Situation Room. Standard procedure, in the event of a national emergency. Now, a means to watch Jennifer and her team. Agent Beech was now his eyes and ears.
“Status? What’s going on?” He listened as he and General Bell laid a final brick of explosives around the base of the reinforced elevator doors. There was no way they were getting them open. Pneumatic locks had shut, all but permanently sealing the elevator from the outside world. Pete waited at the corner, keeping watch down both hallways branching off the Oval Office.
“Jesus Christ, one of the guys with her pulled out fucking body parts from his bag. A severed hand and an eyeball. The hand fucking matches the president’s prints. Jesus fucking Christ…”
His blood went cold. He stopped breathing. “President Wall’s?”
“No. President Spiers’s.”
It can’t be. No, no, it can’t be.He breathed hard, his thoughts racing. Spiers was with Ethan, and they were somewhere else, somewhere far away from here. Or were they? When was the last Levi had heard from them? He hadn’t said. What if their mission, whatever it was, had failed?
A chill settled over his body as a different thought slammed into him, nearly toppling him over.
What if the hand and eyeball were cloned?
Jennifer had unrestricted access to the White House, even the residence. They’d had recent experience with clones—too recent—and the early reports were that Captain Leslie Spiers’s DNA had been stolen from Army databases. Madigan had stolen the blueprints to her identity.
Could Jennifer have done the same? Stolen Spiers’s DNA from the Residence? A full-body clone was a massive undertaking, on the fringes of medical science, even. But… body parts were made all the time.
What could she do with President Spiers’s hand and eyeball?
The answer came over the radio. “She’s calling up the nuclear launch protocols. President Spiers’s palmprint still has access. She’s able to get into fucking everything.”
Welby cursed. If he’d been waiting for final proof that President Spiers was still alive, that was it. Levi and President Wall hadn’t canceled his clearance or his access. They were expecting him to come back. “We need to go. Now.” He waved General Bell and Pete back, jogging around the corner. They huddled by the shot-up door to the Roosevelt Room.
General Bell held the detonator in his hand. He passed it to Welby. “It’s your house.”
Welby shot him a glare and grabbed the detonator. He pressed the trigger.
A deafening boom burst from around the corner. The walls shook and the floor trembled. He heard doors fly off their hinges and wood splinter, glass shatter from portraits and paintings. Walls creaking and plaster cracking. For the second time in a year, the White House was crumbling under attack.
He waited, counting five seconds for the rubble to settle, and then popped up. “Let’s go.” He drew his weapon and clicked on his flashlight, holding it crossed below his grip.
They picked their way through the dark, smoke-filled hallway. Power had been cut to the White House, and the blast sprayed plaster dust and debris into the air. They moved like shadows, sidestepping broken furniture and paintings and over destroyed walls that been ripped apart.
Welby finally smiled, relieved for a half second, when they spotted the elevator. “It worked.”
They’d blasted a hole in the flooring beneath the elevator’s locked-shut doors. A dark opening yawned in front of the elevator, and the steel reinforced barrier surrounding the elevator shaft had cracked. Welby shined his flashlight through the tear.
He had a clear line of sight to the elevator cables.
“We’re in,” he called over the radio. “We’re going down to the bunker.”
“Better fucking hurry. She’s trying to crack his verification launch code. She’s got two of the six digits already!”
