FIFTY-SIX
IT was so easy. That should have been
Cade’s first clue. Konrad had been obliging enough to drive his
Ferrari to the port and park it in plain sight. The ship in harbor
was plainly marked with the Kuwaiti flag and the logo of KSM
Holdings, Inc.
Konrad was standing at a shipping container. Cade
saw him clearly from three hundred yards away. He was talking to
several Arab men, all wearing jackets that didn’t do much to
conceal the weapons underneath.
“Stay down,” he told Zach, and slammed the BMW’s
pedal to the floor.
Zach ducked below the window as the car executed a
perfect bootlegger turn, sliding to a halt a dozen feet from Konrad
and his thugs.
Cade rolled out of the driver’s side. The Arab
men—four of them—were still gaping at the car. Cade moved through
them like a thresher. Only the last one managed to touch his gun
before Cade knocked him into the side of the ship.
They were on the ground like fallen branches when
Cade turned to Konrad. He smirked and held up his hands.
“I surrender.”
Cade hit him anyway.
Konrad went down, and Cade pulled him up again by
the lapels of his elegant suit.
“Where are they?”
It took Cade a moment to recognize the sound coming
from Konrad, a kind of snuffling through the blood streaming from
his broken nose.
He was laughing.
“Where are the Unmenschsoldaten?” Cade
asked, shaking him. “Where?”
“Sehen Sie für sich selbst,” Konrad said,
smiling with hate.
Cade dropped him to the ground and stalked over to
the container.
Zach stood, peering over the BMW’s roof. He had a
bad moment of déjà vu, back to the moment at the Baltimore
shipyard, just a few nights before.
“Get back in the car,” Cade ordered. Zach
did.
Cade pulled on the handle of the container door.
The chain and lock tore like paper.
There were no corpses inside.
There was nothing inside at all.
Konrad’s voice mocked him from behind. “Did you
really think I’d plan something so slapdash, so amateurish, as to
have a container fail right when your Customs service would
discover it?”
Cade turned. “You wanted me to find the first
container?”
Konrad spat. “You came running, didn’t you? Such a
good little bloodhound.”
Cade tried to make sense of it. “This was just a
lure? A trick to get me out here so you could try to kill
me?”
“It was worth a try. Helen seemed quite convinced
she would be able to deal with you. Impetuous youth.”
Cade still didn’t understand. “So there never were
any Unmenschsoldaten? This was all about me?”
Konrad shrugged, smiling. “Did I say that?”
Cade went into the container. At the back, he
stopped, scanned the metal wall—and found something.
He pulled at a lever, almost invisible in the seam
of metal where the corners joined. The back of the container swung
forward, revealing a hidden compartment.
It looked like the cabin of a luxury cruise
liner—cramped but still lavish. A compact bed and desk. Lights
built into the walls, along with vents for air. A chemical toilet
and a minifridge, running off a rack of batteries.
A perfectly hidden escape pod, built to bypass
Customs, metal detectors and cameras.
It all fell into place.
Oh, Lord, forgive me once again for my arrogance,
he thought. I’ve been so blind. So stupid.
All this time, he thought the
Unmenschsoldaten were on their way to Konrad.
They weren’t. They’d already been here and
gone.
Cade stalked out of the container. He lifted Konrad
from the ground again.
“Where?” he demanded.
Konrad looked as calm as ever. “Where do you
think?”
For a moment, Cade wanted to rip his lungs out. It
must have shown, because Konrad finally looked scared.
“They’re in Washington, D.C. Right now. They plan
to attack the White House. It could be any moment.”
Cade knew that he was telling the truth. He knew,
because he felt it in his bones, felt his sworn duty pulling him
away.
By this blood, you are bound . . .
He had to go. Cade knew he literally could not
waste another second.
Konrad knew it, too. The smile returned.
“You should let me go. You’ve got more important
things to do.”
. . . you are bound to the President of the
United States . . .
Cade dropped Konrad, cursing himself.
. . . and to the orders of the officers
appointed by him . . .
Cade was behind the wheel before Zach saw him
move.
Through the windshield, Cade saw Konrad picking
himself up off the concrete. The scientist was smiling.
“We’re just letting him go?” Zach screeched.
Cade had the BMW in reverse, then spun it around in
a tire-smoking 180.
“Cade, talk to me. What’s going on?” He hurried to
get his seat belt fastened as Cade floored it.
Cade’s face was grim. “Konrad was leaving the
country. The Unmenschsoldaten aren’t here.”
“So where are they?”
Cade looked at him, and it finally clicked for
Zach, too.
It was the container that had to get to Konrad. But
the spare parts—the spare parts were exactly where they were
supposed to be.
In Washington, D.C.
“The White House?” Zach asked.
Cade nodded. “Call Griff. Tell him to get the
president out of there. Do whatever it takes. Then call
Edwards.”
“Who?” Zach asked, trying to dial as the car,
engine screaming, lurched in and out of the late-night
traffic.
“The air force base,” Cade said, snapping off every
word. “We need to get back to Washington as fast as
possible.”
Zach looked at his watch. Just past one. Which put
D.C. at just after four a.m.
“There’s no way we’ll make it, it’s going to be
morning there before we land.”
“God damn it, do as you’re told, ”
Cade shouted.
Zach realized, suddenly, they were in the oncoming
lane of traffic, headed straight at an oncoming SUV
Cade sliced back into the opposite lane, inches
ahead of a slow-moving Ford.
As soon as they were clear, Cade stomped on the gas
again, sending the tachometer back into the red. Horns blared after
them.
“Make the calls, please,” Cade said, quieter
now.
Zach didn’t ask any more questions. He did as he
was told.