Chapter 12

Fitz woke up to the sound of a drill. Where am I and why do I hear a drill? The thought ran across his mind as he opened one eye. It was pitch black in his room. He was lying on a comfortable bed and under a blanket. Perhaps all presidents who are charged with murder get this kind of treatment. I guess we all can't be so lucky. Fitz huffed and rolled to his side to sit up. As he sat, he heard footsteps approaching his room. They were not heavy as if they were the feet of men but very soft, feminine steps as if it were a maid or a housekeeper. The gentle knock on the door confirmed for Fitz that it was indeed a woman. Without opening the door, the woman said in a soft but firm voice, "Mr. Kingsworthy, my name is Mrs. Abernathy. I own this hotel. I was told to tell you that you have a package next to you on the lamp table and that you should open it as soon as you waken. I heard you roll over and grunt and my husband always do that when he's getting up so I assume you're doing the same, which is why I've not asked to come in. Anyway, I wanted to do my duty as your hotel manager and owner to pass along the information the young men asked me to give you. Oh, I almost forgot to tell you one thing. They said The Eagle always soars. Soar on my Eagle. It was an awfully weird message but they ensured you'd know what it means. Forgive me for being nosy but could you tell me what that message meant? It was such an interesting phrase that I just had to know what it meant. Oh do tell, please?"

He did not know if it was Mrs. Abernathy's voice or her persistence that helped to continue the throbbing headache or not; however, he did know it was not helping him to get rid of it. So in an effort for her to leave, Fitz sat as quiet as possible and offered only sounds of snoring and grunting periodically until he finally heard her say, "Oh my, he was still sleep. Goodness me, he must be tired. I'll come back in an hour or so to relay the message to him."

With that she left. He turned the bedside table lamp on and it revealed a large white package. In it he had a box of hair dye, (gee, thanks for telling me how old I am), keys, instructions to the next place he was to go, an itinerary of what to do when he got there, a passport, a driver's license for Samuel Kingsworthy, a backstory of Samuel Kingworthy, pictures of his family to put in the wallet and a white letter envelope that said open on the plane on the front. He decided to take a peek at the pictures first before doing anything else. As much as he loathed Mellie, any face that was familiar to him would be appreciated. So he opened the envelope and pulled out the first picture. He was surprised – he knew this picture. She had taken it of him. She. Olivia. He pulled out more pictures and they were of him and Olivia in various places along the campaign trail cropped and photo-shopped to look as if it had been their life all along. He cried. The tears could not be contained any longer as he continued to look through the pictures. Seeing how happy he was with her in each of the pictures made it easy for him to see how much she meant to him and how much he needed to find her.

Fitz heard those same footsteps headed this way, but this time they seemed hurried – almost urgent. After a hearty knock, Mrs. Abernathy spoke a little louder than her previous visit, "Mr. Kingsworthy, I've been told to tell you that you're late and that eagle can't soar if you're late. Please hurry. You don't have much time. By the way, I figured out what you do for a living. You're an expert with bald eagles aren't you?"

He grumbled his agreement and she walked away with glee, "I knew it, I knew it! Wait until Paul hears this! I told that man I was right. Why does not he ever listen to me?" Fitz shook his head and got out of bed to apply the hair dye and get himself cleaned up for what lied ahead.

Cyrus paced back and forth in the room. He was trying to be calm, really, he was, but how could the Chief of State be calm when he found out the Secret Service lost the President. Cyrus took as many breaths as he could but he was livid.

"One just does not lose the President. Not when one's entire job is to protect and defend the President. Who does this?"

Cyrus would have blamed it on Olivia but there was one issue: no one knew where she was or how to get in contact with her. She was in the Witness Protection program and regardless of how many strings he pulled or favors he'd owe, he'd never get the answer for which he sought. She was in the wind and apparently, so was he. Cyrus' escort came into the room and told him that his car was here. He decided to pay a visit to Olivia Pope & Associates to see if they've heard from Olivia. Cyrus knew how much they were devoted to Olivia but they were worth a shot. As he stepped off the elevator, his phone rang.

"What?!" Cyrus shouted into the phone.

"If you're looking for clues as to where she is, you've come to the wrong place," the voice on the other end of the phone said.

"Who is this and how do you know who I'm looking for?"

The voice on the other end laughed. "I know all about this situation. Do yourself a favor. Go back to your office and check your email. It'll give you further instructions afterwards."

Click. Nothing but a dial tone was left to greet his ear. Just as quickly as they arrived, Cyrus told his escorts that he must return to his office urgently.

Fitz looked into the mirror and he immediately found himself looking almost twenty years younger, except for his mousey brown hair has now changed to red and his eyes are now hidden behind a pair of thin-wire glasses. He looked quite studious and very much the person he thought a Samuel Kingsworthy would be if they had met under different circumstances like as if Samuel was a real person. Fitz tried to think about how Samuel would think, walk, talk and live his life as if he was truly Samuel. Would he have an accent or a speech impediment? Would he walk with a limp or normal but without power? Fitz did not have a clue where to begin to be Samuel Kingsworthy but what he did know is how fast he had to get out of there and onto the road. He slipped his glasses on, grabbed his clothes and the package and then left out of the hotel. No one saw him leave and he did his best to clean up after himself so there would be no trace of him as Fitzgerald Thomas Grant the third being there. As soon as he reached the navy blue 2001 Ford Explorer Sport that was located in the back of the parking lot. He was happy that it was something that could accommodate his height comfortably, especially since it seemed like he would be driving for a while.

While Fitz put the key in the ignition and allowed the car to warm up, he read the next set of instructions.

Drive US Highway 82 until you meet up with I-30 in Texas. From there, take I-30 to Dallas. Use the Discover card to check in for the flight and ditch the card there immediately. You must make the flight on Thursday, March 1st. Make sure you take your ID and your passport with you and keep it safe. You will be leaving the country.

Fitz checked the gas tank and was pleased to see it was full. He then began to look around to see if there were any highway signs nearby. From his location, he couldn't see one so he began to drive. Not too far from there, was a road sign with an arrow pointing towards the US Highway 82. He turned onto the ramp but not before noticing one business' sign: Brunswick Café and "We've got the best buttermilk biscuit on this side of Georgia" as their slogan. Georgia? Great! Now I know I've got a long drive ahead of me. I hope we have some good music.

Cyrus made it to his office and instructed Louise not to disturb him and to hold all of his calls. He put his government card into the slot and when prompted put in his password as calmly as he could so that he would not risk getting locked out the system. "Welcome Cyrus R. Beene" appeared across the screen and he went straight to email. He clicked on the link for the Unknown sender. Usually Cyrus quickly placed emails without a properly titled sender straight to spam, but this time he had an idea that this was the very email to which the caller was referring. The email appeared on the screen.

Mr. Beene,

By the time you read this letter, your boss would be far out of your reach. We know what you did. We know why you did it too. What we don't understand is why you would let your boss take the blame for it. We know you did not mean to kill Senator Davis. It was definitely an accident and we have proof of that fact. However, we fail to understand why you felt the need to help Mellie frame him for the murder and for battery when you knew she did this to herself by telling Senator Davis that the baby she carries is his a month before he was to get married. While we do not condone Senator Davis' actions, we certainly lack the belief that he was to pay for such behavior with death. So let's make a deal.

Here's the deal: You tell the press of the untimely passing of Senator Davis was by your hands and we won't leak it to the press. Do we have a deal? Remember, you do know how the optics can be on things like this. So choose wisely. You have until five p.m. Wednesday to call this number: 654-825-4523. If you agree say one word: Deal. If you disagree, say nothing and promptly hang up. Now we do know that with him gone the spotlight on you is a little brighter, so I'd be thinking of ways to get on our good side.

We KNOW!

Cyrus blinked rapidly. He did not know what to say. How could anyone confirm me being in the room at that time? No one had any idea of the alternate entrance located behind the bookshelf where he told Charlie to enter, or did they? Cyrus became immediately suspicious of everyone in the White House. The plan was simple. Charlie was to use the hidden entrance and give Senator Edison Davis a shot of potassium chlorate. When it took effect, he was to give Fitz a shot of Fospropofol and wait until that took effect before undressing him. Mellie was to be the lookout while Charlie stabbed Senator Davis and smear his blood on his shirt and make sure Fitz's prints were on the knife and leave. Mellie complicated matters because she wanted her own revenge. Cyrus swore that if Mellie's slice of the ultimate revenge plot against Fitz sabotaged him, there would be more than hell to pay and believe me, she will pay! He did not think she would use her revenge to have Charlie batter her so she could blame Fitz but if it worked, it worked. Either way, everyone involved wanted their piece of the revenge. Mellie was the mastermind. From Fitz's second year in office, Mellie had been seeking out ways to break up Fitz and Olivia. Perhaps it was what Cyrus called "Breeders remorse" but for some reason she could no longer stand having Fitz having his whole world revolve around Olivia. In her words, "all he ever does revolve around Olivia. The man can't eat, sleep or think without Olivia being on his mind. I wanted her to take care of his needs, to fix him when necessary; not steal him and my opportunity as First Lady away. That is not what I signed up for Cyrus and I will die before I let her have the title of First Lady Grant."

Cyrus shook his head, patted his pockets in search of his cell phone and speed dialed number thirteen. "Charlie…"