The Assassin's Wife by Roger Weston

Author:Roger Weston [Weston, Roger]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Weston Publishing Enterprises
Published: 2014-01-16T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 41

Anchorage, Alaska

Carl Johnson sat alone in a foldout director’s chair next to his Lear jet. The pilots were having breakfast over in the hanger, which was fifty yards away. Seven secret service men stood in front of the hanger, two of them talking. Carl didn’t know what they were saying, but he was sure it was related to security. Lifting his binoculars, Carl watched the incoming jet, Air Force One, while scanning the edge of the runway, where groups of three or four armed soldiers stood at intervals. He lowered his binoculars and enjoyed the moment. There were no reporters, no local politicians, and no spectators hoping to get a glimpse of the president. Just Carl. Even the security detail had been ordered to stay at a distance.

The wheels of Air Force One screeched on the runway, and within minutes, the famous jet rolled to a stop next to Carl’s Lear. As the door opened and the stairs folded down, two Chevy Suburbans eased out of the hanger and waited with their engines purring and music blasting from their speakers.

The president, who was Carl’s cousin, emerged from the plane alone and joined him. President Stall was a thin and attractive woman with wise eyes. She had dark-brown hair and wore a blue suit. Carl strolled with her down the runway, just the two of them. Half a dozen men of the secret service walked as well, but kept fifty yards away to either side. The only other people nearby were driving the Suburbans, one of which was a hundred yards ahead and the other as far behind, the rock music turned up now to foil any sort of audio surveillance, which in any case was unlikely given how tightly the secret service and the military had the airfield tied down. But even trusted servants couldn’t be trusted.

“What’s going on?” the president said.

When Carl looked over at her, he was still trying to decide which shade of the truth he should put forth. After all, circumstances in the field were always changing, so anything he told her would be essentially history and false. Still, the president was shrewd and powerful and pitiless with relatives who betrayed her, so Carl had to get the essentials right. “We’re working on our problem in Idaho.” He talked just loudly enough to be heard by her under the music.

“Working?” she said, an edge on her voice.

“A minor glitch, but nothing we won’t have mopped up in the next few hours.”

“Glitch?”

“Meg is more elusive than we thought she would be. Just a minor delay though.”

The president stopped walking and gave him a withering glare. “What’s the problem?”

“There is no problem. We will have her soon. She’s just a drama professor, a really soft target. She won’t last a week. Frankly, I’d be surprised if she lasted another twenty-four hours.”

The president resumed walking down the runway. “Think of who she was married to. Eric Coles was the most hunted man in the world and he survived for ten years.

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