Part 37 (1/2)

From atop the San Diego Bay bridge Jana faced the USS Midway and, talking into her cell phone, reported the news: ”This is Jana Torres reporting live from the San Diego Bay bridge, where moments ago an FA-18 Hornet fired four missiles at the president's motorcade in an apparent a.s.sa.s.sination attempt. The president is unharmed. However, the missiles severed both ends of the bridge, effectively cutting the motorcade off from land. As you can see behind me, a rescue effort is under way.”

The view on the monitor focused on one of the transport helicopters as it landed on the southern lanes. The second helicopter hovered a short distance away beside the bridge, awaiting its turn.

”About a dozen vehicles are stranded,” Jana reported, ”including a school bus of children who were scheduled to sing for the president at a farewell rally. A last-minute addition to the motorcade, all the children on the bus are safe, thanks to the heroic effort of one Secret Service agent who fell to his death during the attack on the east end of the bridge.”

It was difficult to hear her. The noise of the helicopter was almost drowning her out.

”Just a few moments ago,” she shouted over it, ”I spoke with an aide to the president and was informed that while the Secret Service has made every attempt to get the president to safety, the president refuses to leave the bridge until all the children are safe.”

Again the camera transitioned from Jana to a line of schoolchildren being led by an attractive woman in a matching red skirt and jacket to the rescue helicopters. Christina carried a girl in one arm, while holding the hand of another girl.

The Secret Service and staff had formed a line, lifting the children over a cement divider and into the waiting helicopter. The last man in the line, the one handing the children to the helicopter crew, was President Douglas.

When the helicopter reached capacity, the president stepped back and gave the pilot a thumbs-up. As soon as the first helicopter cleared the bridge, the second helicopter landed. The rescue effort proceeded in orderly fas.h.i.+on.

Semyaza sighed as he watched. ”Frightening the natives was so much easier in the Dark Ages . . . a little lightning, a little thunder . . .”

”I'm glad you're amusing yourself,” I said, alternately checking the monitor and the bridge as the rescue effort unfolded. Everything was proceeding smoothly. Too smoothly in my opinion.

”And why shouldn't I be amused?” Semyaza said. ”This is like opening night at the theater for me. The curtain has gone up after years of preparation. The staging. Casting of characters. Watching it all come together gives me goose b.u.mps. Well, if I had flesh, it would give me goose b.u.mps.”

I ground my teeth and said nothing. He was toying with me. Cat and mouse. I was mouse enough to know that when he tired of playing with me he was going to hurt me.

My gaze fastened on the bridge.

Me, or someone I care about.

Semyaza said, ”More important, Grant, are you enjoying our little production? Our boy on the bridge is looking pretty good, isn't he?”

The image of R. Lloyd Douglas filled the television monitor. His coat was off. His s.h.i.+rtsleeves were rolled up. His hair was in his eyes and he was sweating. He looked every inch a media hero, the most powerful man on earth endangering his own life to save the lives of children.

Only they were children he'd put in harm's way for the occasion. And his hero strength had been injected by his physician.

”He's still alive,” I said.

”For the moment,” Semyaza conceded. ”But let's talk about you.”

”I'm not going to do what you want me to do,” I said.

”And what is it you think we want you to do?”

”You said it in your office. You want me to write a final chapter . . . a final lie . . . for Douglas's biography.”

”Did I say that?” Semyaza asked.

”That's exactly what you said.”

”I lied.”

I glared at him.

He was unapologetic. ”I said what needed to be said at the time.”

”Regardless, when this is all over, I'm going to write a book exposing everything. All the lies and cover-ups. Vietnam. Douglas's addiction. And I'm going to clear my name.”

”Clear your name? What are you talking about?”

”I know about Sylvia Jakes,” I said.

”Who?”

He scrunched up his face as though he didn't know. Not surprising. I imagine you can get quite good at it when you're a follower of the Father of Lies, a being who has lied for millennia.

”Sylvia Jakes. The White House intern who doctored the ma.n.u.script to make it appear as though I had confessed to a.s.sa.s.sinating the president.”

Semyaza burst out laughing. ”That's good . . . that's rich! I'd forgotten all about that!”

”You have a habit of forgetting your failures. I'll help you remember this one.”

Semyaza was still laughing. ”Mastema has a knack for this sort of thing. She's the practical joker of our team. You know her as Margaret, I believe she was-”

”Secretary to the chief of staff.”

”Her task was to keep an eye on you while you were at the White House.”

”You expect me to believe that you had nothing to do with implicating me in the a.s.sa.s.sination attempt?”

Semyaza guffawed. ”Heavens, no! Who in his right mind would believe you were capable of pulling off an event this grand? It was a lark.”

”A lark . . .”

”If I remember correctly, it was Mastema's idea but she wasn't going to do it. Then someone dared her. The whole thing was a diversion, an amus.e.m.e.nt. We made wagers as to whether or not you'd find it. I bet you wouldn't. But then, you didn't find it, did you? You had help. That meddlesome Ling girl is the one who found it. I wonder how Mastema is going to settle the bets.”

A diversion. An amus.e.m.e.nt. A prank. I felt like a chump.

”Don't take it hard, Grant. It got you here, didn't it? That's the important thing.”

”I'm still going to tell the truth once this is all over.”

”Are you? And what is the truth, Grant?”

”That unscrupulous angelic beings have infiltrated world governments to manipulate leaders and alter the course of history to benefit their own evil designs. If it takes the rest of my life, Semyaza, somehow I'm going to get the message out. I'm going to expose you. You keep telling me you've been doing this for millennia. Well, maybe if enough people get wise to you, this millennium will be your last.”

I felt like the mouse that roared, but I was tired of being toyed with.

Semyaza became serious. ”Is that what you see, or are you guessing?” he replied.

”That's my conclusion based on research and personal observation.”

”Look at the bridge and tell me what you see.”