The Destroyer - 98 - The Destroyer 098 - Target of Opportunity by Warren Murphy & Richard Sapir

Author:Warren Murphy & Richard Sapir [Murphy, Warren & Sapir, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Pulp Action
ISBN: 9780373632138
Publisher: PINNACLE BOOKS
Published: 1995-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Although it was early by Washington standards, the White House began emptying out at 7:00 p.m. Staff were being sent home early under a strict gag order.

Kirby Ayers of the uniformed Secret Service watched over the turnstiles at the East Gate entrance, where staffers and visitors alike were required to go through the process of inserting their magnetic keycards into a reader machine before walking through the metal detectors.

The White House press corps, on the other hand, were clamoring to get in.

"What is the President doing?" one asked from the sidewalk where they had been exiled in blanket punishment for the networks having prematurely reported the President dead and doubting his genuineness upon his return to Washington.

"You have to ask the President's press secretary that," Ayers said.

"She won't return our calls."

"You pronounced her boss dead on national TV. What do you expect?"

"But we're the White House press corps," another moaned.

"You have my sympathy," Ayers said.

In all the commotion, neither the press nor the uniformed Secret Service guards noticed one of the most famous haircuts in Washington crawl out of the back of a TV microwave van on sprawled arms and legs and clump below eye level through the metal detector.

He got halfway across the North Lawn before he was picked up by the Secret Service surveillance cameras and the alert was sounded.

By that time he had splashed into the fountain in the center of the lawn.

That was where the director of the Secret Service found him when he came pounding out of the North Portico, a detail of agents at his heels.

"He's in the fountain, sir," Jack Murtha said.

"How did he get through the gate?" the director complained.

"We think he crawled on his hands and knees while the press had the uniforms distracted."

"We can't have a security breach like this! Big Mac will have my ass flame broiled."

When they reached the marble lip of the White House fountain, they saw no sign of anyone.

"Who's got a damn flashlight?" the director demanded.

A flashlight was handed over.

The director beamed light all through the pool. He caught a flash of something lurking under the cold water. It was mottled green and brown.

"What the hell is that?" he breathed.

Then a head rose from the water, and two green eyes looked directly at the director of the Secret Service from under a thick thatch of wet white fur.

The green eyes were so cold and inhuman the director almost dropped his light. "What in God's name is that?" he said hoarsely.

Another flash came into play.

"That hair sure looks familiar," Jack Murtha muttered.

"Look at those eyes. Like a snake's. They don't even blink in the light."

"You! Come out of there with your hands up," Murtha commanded.

The baleful green eyes continued to regard the cluster of agents with cold menace. Bubbles began to appear in the area of his submerged mouth.

Then slowly and deliberately the head lifted into view.

"Holy Hell!" Murtha blurted. "That's Gila!"

"What?"

"Congressman Gila Gingold, minority whip in the House of Representatives."

"My God! It is him. But what the hell is he doing here?"

The question hung in the air less than five seconds.

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