St Louis, Missouri, Saint Louise University Hospital, 2019
Luke had recovered enough to where he was able to sit up unaided, as long as his head was held in place by a plastic neck brace.
That morning, he'd started having severe spinal spasms and the doctors wanted to give him something for the pain. But Luke refused. He needed to stay alert. Not only was Noah out there on a suicide mission, but people were trying to kill them both. Luke wasn't about to make it easy for them by allowing himself to be drugged up.
The specialists were hailing Luke's current condition as nothing short of miraculous considering the damage he could have inflicted on himself; everything from cranial pressure to paralysis. Thank God the guards and doctors got to him in time.
Williams had forbidden any visitors but Holden; and banned all phone calls. Luke was desperate to speak to Leo.
Can't Williams see he's hurting Leo by keeping us apart?
Even knowing Leo was safe at the farm, the future looked extremely bleak. If Noah hurt or God forbid managed to kill Marsden, while the two of them were still considered dangerous criminals… then… there'd be no salvation.
Holden tried to contact Chris using the cell phone number Luke gave his father. But to no avail. Luke figured Chris must have ditched the phone after the Feds used it to track them down to the motel room in St Louis.
He felt terribly alone. But he'd begged his father to travel to Washington. He wanted Holden to approach Marsden in the hopes of somehow intercepting Noah. Noah loved and trusted Holden almost as much as he did Luke.
More than anything, Luke was desperate to let Noah know he was still alive. It would change everything.
As a thousand thoughts ran through his troubled mind, Luke's nurse, a sweet African American kid by the name of Sammy, quietly went about his rounds, recording Luke's temperature and setting Luke's medication on a tray beside the patient.
"I'm done now." He smiled at Luke. "Is there anything else I can do for you before I leave?"
"Um… thanks Sammy. Could you turn the news on for me?"
"Of course." The young man reached up to press the standby button on the tiny hospital television. He placed the remote on the table beside Luke's pills. "Make sure you take those, you hear me?"
Luke smiled. "Okay."
Sammy left the room as Luke tried to drown his thoughts by watching television.
…
Washington DC, Washington, Russell Senate Office Building, 2019
Senator Marsden concluded, and not for the first time in his career, that news reporters were the bottom-feeders of society.
Hiding information was like trying to hide a body. You tied a concrete slab to it and hoped it would sink to the bottom of the ocean. Most of the time it did. But occasionally a reporter would risk diving into the murky depths to retrieve it.
His chief of staff had been right. And as always, Charles found himself wishing he had listened.
News of FBI Deputy Director Stanley Marsh's murder quickly spread. Instead of overshadowing the implications of Charles' involvement in certain biological weapons manufacturing, it seemed to fan the fire.
Now the press were demanding an on-camera, on-the-record statement from Charles himself.
For the first time, Charles was really feeling the heat. The news story about Snyder was making headlines. It was only a matter a time before somebody in the news world made the connection.
Then Charles could truly wave his life goodbye.
He turned from the window so that makeup could be applied to his face; making him presentable for a television appearance.
"Now, Charles," Oswald was saying. "Remember to smile. Try not to dart your eyes about. It makes you look shifty."
"I am shifty, Os," quipped Marsden, making the makeup lady smile.
"I know that! But we definitely don't want anybody else to catch on!" Oswald regarded Charles, carefully checking the senator's appearance for any flaws. "Just remember, we have enough information on Marsh to prove what an unsavory character he was."
"Shame there's no third party who can attest to seeing Marsh actually break the law."
"It's not that nobody's seen him," Oswald corrected his boss. "It's that they'd never have dared say anything while he was alive. It might be a little easier to locate a witness now."
"Well," Charles replied, "that's at least something, I guess…" Then after a pause. "Do I really need to go out there?"
"Don't moan Charles." Oswald waited until the makeup artist was out of earshot before continuing. "I don't need to remind you that I did warn you about all this. But nooooo! You just had to run off and do your own thing!
"Well, I can't say I'm sad that motherfucker's dead!" Charles snapped.
Oswald shook his head in defeat. "Whatever. But you better put on your best act of denial out there today or you can kiss the White House goodbye!"
…
Noah easily found his way through the nation's capital. He recalled the layout of the streets and traffic circles from when he was 14 and his father was stationed at nearby Fort Mead.
He abandoned the car a block from the Senate Office and jogged the rest of the way. He felt the reassuring weight of the gun hidden under his shirt and the tap of the USB stick against his chest.
There was a thick band of spectators crowding around the front steps of the impressive white Beaux-Arts styled Russell Building; complete with proud American flag patriotically waiving atop the roof.
Noah buffered his way through the throngs of people, much to their indignation. As he reached the vicinity of the press section, he lifted the hood of the sweatshirt Chris gave him to wear; ignoring the stab of pain in his side from the knife wound left by Garrett. Chris had dressed the injury quite well. But the pain was unavoidable.
The press were corralled behind a wire barricade; entry to which was controlled by a narrow barrier flanked by two Capitol Hill police officers. They let only a selected few technicians close enough to set up their microphones on the portable speaker's podium, adorned with a U.S. Senate seal on the front.
Noah heard several reporters mention Marsden's name while taking to their editors back in the newsrooms around the country.
"The senator's bound to mention Marsh's death at the top of his statement," one of them said. "We've been given the five-minute cue. Standing by now."
Noah had heard about Marsh's demise on the car radio. It was a blow to say the least. The deputy director's involvement was a crucial piece of the puzzle. He was more valuable alive than dead to Noah. Now all of Marsh's secrets had died with him.
But he didn't have time to worry about that now. Noah stood hidden by the crowd; carefully surveying the scene, all the while trying to find a way to get in close to Marsden.
Getting past the press wouldn't be too hard. He'd already slipped a press card from the back pocket of a CNN cameramen, too busy setting up his shot to notice the hand slip through the wire.
It was the wall of armed plainclothes security flanking the podium that would prove a problem.
…
Archie and Adrian arrived at the Russell Building just as Senator Marsden was getting ready to go live to the press. Flashing his FBI badge at the various security posts, Adrian got them as far as Marsden's senate office door, before they were told there was absolutely no chance of them seeing the senator.
"Senator Marsden is far too busy this morning, as you well know," a young intern told them.
"I'm not asking to see the senator," Adrian snapped. "I demand it! You find me a minute with Marsden or I'll have you charged with obstructing a Federal investigation."
The intern blinked at Adrian with disdain before sighing. "Fine! He may have a few minutes after the press conference. But I can't guarantee it."
"Thank you. We'll wait," Adrian politely replied.
A loud bustle of activity erupted from inside the senator's office before the doors swung open. Surrounded by an entourage, Marsden walked out, straightening his tie as he reached the reception area. The senator noticed Adrian standing there; and his eyebrows rose in recognition. But he was quickly rushed passed the two law enforcement officers.
Archie and Adrian followed the small parade down the stairs; and out through the main exit doors. The press and photographers went crazy as Marsden approached the bank of microphones.
Adrian scanned the crowd, looking for Noah Mayer. He had an overwhelming feeling in the deepest part of his gut that Mayer was somewhere close, too close for comfort. However, his eyes fell on another familiar face anxiously standing behind the barricades. A worried Holden Snyder was frantically waving his arms trying to get Adrian's attention.
The crowd quieted down as Marsden made his way to the center of the podium. Out of the corner of his eye, the FBI agent saw a loan figure approach from the opposite corner of the makeshift platform.
Archie drew a loud gasp. "Oh shit!"
And the scene was set.
Marsden, eyes wide with shock, froze mid-stride with his arms lifted to the side in a non-threatening stance. Noah faced him, dropping this hood; handgun extended and aimed right for the senator's head.
Caught totally off guard, Senate Security jumped into action and Noah's body was bathed in a sea of tiny red laser dots.
"Hold your fire!" Adrian screamed, taking immediate command. Leaning over toward Archie, he quickly whispered, "Find Holden Snyder. He's somewhere in the crowd. Get him in here now!"
As Archie ran off, Adrian loudly shouted waiving his badge, "Hold your fire… FBI… I repeat… Hold your fire!"
…
St Louis, Missouri, Saint Louise University Hospital, 2019
Luke practically fell from the bed as news cameras caught sight of the gunman. Alarms on the monitors surrounding his bed sung out like a Greek chorus.
Sammy burst through the door, immediately asking Luke to explain what was wrong.
"Noah!" Luke gasped. "Oh no!"