Historical Spy Thriller Box Set by Lee Jackson

Author:Lee Jackson [Jackson, Lee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn River Publishing
Published: 2020-02-08T22:00:00+00:00

When he landed around noon at Washington Dulles International Airport, two Secret Service agents met Collins at the gate. They escorted him in a dark sedan to Dogwood Cabin at Camp David, the retreat of US presidents in the Catoctin Mountain Park, Maryland. The situation chafed the charm. His escorts silently indicated that he should vacate the car and enter the cabin.

A grizzled, Irish-looking man waited for him at the door as he tramped through the snow up the walkway. Collins scrutinized his face.

“I’ve seen you before,” Collins said. “You were with Atcho in New York at that Long Island estate.” On instinct, he asked, “Are you his CIA buddy?”

Burly said nothing, but gestured for Collins to enter. Then he led into the living room and indicated a chair.

“Where’s the president?” Collins asked. “I’m here to see him.”

Burly grunted. “You’re here to do exactly as you’re told,” he said, and there was nothing friendly in his manner.

Collins stared, and then stood. “I’ll be going now. Tell the president I’m sorry we missed each other.”

“Suit yourself,” Burly said. “Those guys will be very happy to lock you in a cell.”

Collins glanced out the window. The Secret Service sedan was still there. Where did you think you were going anyway? He sat back down. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” He felt like a misbehaved schoolboy about to be scolded.

“Yeah,” Burly replied. “I’ll tell you what’s going on. You’re going to stay put right here at Camp David until this whole mess blows over. You can stay here in this warm, comfy cabin, or you can stay in a cold room with bars. Your choice.”

Burly seemed to be warming to an argument. He pulled himself forward so that his eyes were level with Collins’. “Where do you get off blowing off the US president? You’ve been tromping all over the world disrupting sensitive operations and putting friends of mine in harm’s way.”

Collins felt a flash of ire. “I’m a reporter. I go after the story. That’s what I do.” He lowered his voice. “I did not intentionally disrespect the president. The story ran in a direction that did not go through the Oval Office.”

Just then a young Secret Service agent, identified by his dark suit and curly wire behind his ear, burst through the door. His face serious, and without saying a word, he moved from room to room in the cabin, and then called, “Clear!”

A moment later, Ronald Reagan strode in. Collins sprang to his feet. “Mr. President!”

“Tony,” the president responded coolly, ignoring Collins’ outstretched hand. “How was Moscow?” His irritation was palpable. He settled onto a couch. “Mr. Gorbachev briefed me on your conclusions. He also filled me in on your idea. We need to talk about that.”

“Yes, sir.”

Collins sat in an overstuffed chair across from him, and watched for signs of Reagan’s waning lucidity as reported in the news.

The president seemed sharp enough today. He sat eyeing Collins, clearly irritated. “Mr. Gorbachev told me you want to write a story,” he said.

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