Part 6 (1/2)

The black van skidded to a stop on the slick asphalt, and two men wearing ski masks burst from the back. They grabbed Leigh-Ann, hurled her into the van, followed her inside, and slammed the sliding door shut as the driver punched the accelerator.

Betty and Paige screamed as the black van squealed off. But it disappeared into the night before anyone could help.

CHAPTER 10.

”IT'S BAD news.” Baxter tapped the faded piece of paper in his lap as he and President Dorn sat alone in the Oval Office. It was the same piece of paper he'd shown to Henry Espinosa an hour ago-Executive Order 1973 1-E. ”Justice Espinosa says the Order is legitimate and enforceable. He seemed very sure of himself.”

”Why did he seem so sure of himself, Stewart?” Dorn asked.

Baxter regretted conveying that detail. ”He's a Supreme Court justice, Mr. President. He knows about Red Cell Seven. It's one of the first things he learns about after he's sworn in.”

”I know that. And you know I know that. Be more efficient, Stewart. I don't have time for this. Sometimes you irritate me so d.a.m.n much, old man. Sometimes I think you're going senile.”

Espinosa's ”whipping boy” comment echoed in Baxter's ears as his blood boiled. ”Sir, I-”

”It seems like there was something more, something specific about how Justice Espinosa responded to you.”

Dorn was excellent at gleaning huge truths from subtle signals. But relaying anything more of his meeting with Espinosa would only make him look bad. And Baxter made it a rule never to accept accountability for his missteps.

”Why do I think you're holding out on me, Stewart?”

”I don't know, sir.”

Espinosa's lack of explanation for why he was holding the Order up to the light still bothered Baxter. As far as he could tell, other than the writing and the signature on the paper lying in his lap, it was clean of any other markings. He'd studied it several times in the limousine on the way back to the White House but hadn't found anything.

”Espinosa says you would be impeached if you tried shutting down Red Cell Seven,” Baxter said. ”If an RC7 representative presented the Order to the Supreme Court in a private session, you would be guilty of treason, and you could not hide behind executive privilege in that case. He was very specific on that point. President Nixon was careful and thorough in the way he structured the cell's existence and its protection.”

”How exactly would that private session go?” President Dorn asked. ”You've read all those confidential procedural ma.n.u.scripts we keep at Camp David.”

”After the charge was presented, the procedure would start with a one-on-one meeting between only the chief justice and the Red Cell Seven representative, who I a.s.sume would have an original of the Order in his possession at the meeting as well as a list of all legitimately initiated RC7 agents. Then, as long as the chief justice was in agreement, the meeting would move to a full session of the court, though still private from the public. The agent would be found innocent immediately. It would take no more than thirty seconds.” Baxter nodded at the president, who suddenly seemed distracted. ”And remember, sir, the chief justice presides over a president's impeachment, so it wouldn't take him long to have you found guilty. That's why Nixon set it up as he did. Love or hate the man, it was an ingenious way to structure Red Cell Seven's protection. Not only would the president be denied, but he or she would also be immediately vulnerable. It's double jeopardy.”

”A one-on-one meeting with the chief justice,” the president repeated.

The glint in Dorn's eyes was obvious. ”Yes, sir,” Baxter confirmed. He hated saying ”sir” to Dorn, but appearances had to be sustained.

”In other words,” Dorn spoke up, ”the chief justice could theoretically stop the process on his own.”

”As we've discussed several times,” Baxter confirmed.

Dorn pointed at the paper in Baxter's lap. ”So having the other original of that Order is essential for us in terms of destroying RC7's protection.”

”Yes, sir. Again, as we've discussed several times.”

”You must get it, Stewart. If I have both of them, I don't have to worry about being impeached. I don't have to worry about the Supreme Court or anything else, for that matter. I can do whatever I want to Red Cell Seven. I can destroy it and suffer no consequences, because Red Cell Seven would not be able to present it to the court.”

”Understood, sir.”

Baxter stared steadily at David Dorn from his chair, which was directly in front of the great desk. The press had begun calling Dorn the ”presidential floor model” because of his dark good looks, intense natural charisma, and the way he'd calmly and efficiently handled the Holiday Mall Attacks.

It was ironic, Baxter thought to himself as he marveled at the description's accuracy. Bill Jensen had come up with the flattering nickname, but now Bill was an enemy-if he was still alive. The special detail of men Baxter had a.s.signed to pick up Bill's trail had failed to find anything. Baxter's men had even tailed Jack and Troy a few times to see if they were secretly helping their father. But those surveillances had turned up nothing.

”How did you get that original?” President Dorn asked, pointing again at the paper in Baxter's lap.

”You don't want to know, sir,” Baxter answered quietly, wondering if Dorn ever taped conversations in the Oval Office the way Nixon had.

”Yes, I do.”

”People help me, sir.”

The president leaned forward over the desk. ”I'm not recording this, Stewart.”

d.a.m.n, he was good. ”Of course you aren't.”

”Did you get it from Roger Carlson's townhouse in Georgetown?” Dorn asked directly.

Roger Carlson had founded Red Cell Seven in the early 1970s on direct orders from President Nixon. Carlson had died last autumn under suspicious circ.u.mstances.

”Yes, sir, we did.”

The president slowly raised one eyebrow. ”Did getting that doc.u.ment have anything to do with Roger's wife being found dead in the Potomac River a few miles south of here? Did Nancy get in the way of the townhouse search for that doc.u.ment? Did your people have to take extreme measures to deal with that situation?”

Baxter stared stoically across the great desk. ”That would be a logical a.s.sumption,” he finally answered. ”I don't want to upset you, sir,” he added quickly. ”I don't want you to-”

”I'm not upset at all,” Dorn interrupted calmly, leaning back.

Dorn never failed to surprise. It was one of the most compelling aspects of working for the man. Baxter took a deep breath. Dorn might not take this next piece of news quite as well.

”I need to inform you,” Baxter spoke up reluctantly, ”that it would appear Red Cell Seven still controls the other original, the second original of this Executive Order.” He tapped the piece of paper again.

Dorn leaned forward, put his elbows on the desk, and clasped his hands together. ”Where is Shane Maddux? What happened with him?”

Baxter glanced past the president at the large window that overlooked the Rose Garden, which was hidden by darkness. ”I don't know,” he admitted. ”I've tried contacting him several times, most recently this morning. But I haven't heard back.”

”Maddux is your friend.”

”My acquaintance.”

”You get my point.”

”He turned on me.”

”He stayed true to Red Cell Seven.”

”You may be right,” Baxter admitted grudgingly.

”I am right. I called that one from the start.”