Executive Privilege by Jay Brandon

Author:Jay Brandon [Brandon, Jay]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-09-05T23:00:00+00:00

Helen drove straight to the nearest airport, in Greenville, South Carolina. By the time they arrived they felt more secure, but all remained jittery. Helen told David to park the white car someplace where it would be found eventually, and disappeared into the long-term parking.

Alone in the underground garage, Helen walked past a pay phone, hesitated, then quickly deposited coins and punched in a number from memory. When the White House operator answered she said authoritatively, "Secret Service office.” She added an authorization number and was put through immediately.

"It’s all right," Helen said when her call was answered. “I’ve got them. Yes, both of them. Just calm everybody down, okay? And who’s this crazoid you've got following us? Look, Ben, I don’t have time to talk. Just tell everybody to take it easy, okay? Yes, I will.”

She hung up the phone and hurried down the car aisle, looking left and right.

A few minutes later she had picked up her party of fugitives, driving a much more appropriate vehicle, a long, dark Buick with leather seats. Helen’s penchant for darkness showed in the car’s midnight-blue exterior.

They hit the highway after that, but proceeding slowly, with Helen constantly watching the rearview mirror and taking several exits, where she would double back or just park somewhere and wait. The procedure would have been tedious if they hadn’t all been in such a state of alarm. They peered out the windows intently and breathed shallowly. Even Randy had caught their tension. He hugged his spaceship. His mother put her arm around him.

It took an hour or more before Helen felt comfortably sure they weren't being followed. When she began to relax the rest did too.

"So long-term parking is where you do your car-shopping," David said conversationally.

"It’s best, Helen said, glancing in the rearview mirror. "Especially if you switch plates with a similar-looking car. That way even if the owner comes back and reports it stolen, somebody else is driving around with those plates. The owner of the car I took the plates from doesn’t notice he’s got different plates—who ever looks at his own license plates?—so he just drives around. We should be okay for a couple of days."

David nodded admiringly.

After noon they drove through a Wendy’s and had lunch in the car. "I have got to get out of this car soon,” Mrs. McPherson protested mildly. She seemed to have recovered both from the drugs and the morning's scare, but David had noticed her long stare out the car window, trying to see the future.

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