“WHAT’S GOING ON?” SARA PROVOST DEMANDED AS THE Hummer sped through the streets of Washington DC. “Why were you shot?”
Completely ignoring his wife, the vice president barked from the backseat, “Get us there as fast as you can, Wolff.”
“We need to get you to a doctor,” Sara cried. “Mr. Wolff, take us to an emergency room.”
“Keep driving to the embassy,” Provost ordered. “They’re waiting for us. If we can get on the grounds, no one can touch us.”
“We’ll get there,” the driver assured his passengers. After checking his rearview mirror, he added, “So far, there’s no one following us.”
“What’s the matter?” the VP’s wife wailed as she tried to push a towel against her husband’s hand. “Why are we running away? I just don’t understand.”
Shaking his head, Provost jerked his hand away from his spouse. “Woman! Wake up! Things went bad tonight. I was almost killed.”
“But who would want to kill you?”
“Right now, just about everyone associated with the United States government.”
“But you’re the vice president.”
“Not for long,” he spat back. “You see, I tried to become the president tonight, but I got shot before I could kill Fulton.”
“You tried to kill the president?” a shocked Sara asked, instinctively pushing away from the injured man.
“Yes,” Provost defiantly answered. “And if it hadn’t been for your ex-husband, I’d have pulled it off too. Yet thanks to Tell Boyer, we’re not moving into the White House, and if we don’t get to a certain South American embassy, our next home will be a crypt.”
Ashen white, Sara Provost leaned back in her seat, trying to comprehend the information she had just been given. Yet she couldn’t understand it. This made no sense to her at all.
“Why would you shoot—”
“Fulton?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Because I had a plan that would’ve made me the most powerful man in the world. And this plan was put in place even before you were born. And if it had worked, all you would’ve known was you were the First Lady.”
“But you told me nothing,” she replied.
“You couldn’t comprehend what I was trying to do. You could never in a million years understand why my actions were so important. I was going to change the world for the better. I was going to rid the world of the blight of lesser races of humanity. I was going to restore the natural order. I would have been more important than Caesar, Alexander, or even Jesus. But no longer is that possible. Now I just have to fight to stay alive.”
He paused a moment to rewrap the towel around his bleeding hand. As he was doing so, the Hummer arrived at the embassy gates. After Wolff answered a quick series of questions from the guard, the gates opened, and the trio of fugitives were granted their safe haven.
They had gotten out of the vehicle and were making their way across the grounds when Sara asked another question. “Why here?”
As Provost waited for Wolff’s knock to be answered, he glared at his wife. “This country has no extradition treaties with the United States. That and a few million dollars in well-placed bribes will get us to a new home. You see, you always have to have a backup plan in case something doesn’t work. This is phase 1 of the plan. Phase 2 will smuggle us out of the country, give us new identities, and buy us a life of luxury in South America. It’ll not be very culturally stimulating—not a lot of fashion shows, society banquets, and evenings at the opera—but it’ll nevertheless be better than dying in an execution chamber.”
The building’s huge metal door suddenly opened, and a large man with an automatic filled it. His shoulders seemed as wide as the entryway. Through dark eyes, he studied the trio for a moment and then, without a word, turned and walked back into the structure. Provost, Sara, and Wolff quickly followed the man through the door across a deserted dining area and into the embassy’s library. The guide pointed to two burgundy leather couches and then left the visitors, closing the room’s only door behind him.
“Talkative sort,” Sara noted as she collapsed onto the sofa nearest a large marble fireplace.
Her husband ignored her observation, instead turning to Wolff and issuing a series of orders.
“Make sure the plane is ready and the car that’s going to take us to the field will not stand out. Also, call Duitsman and have him notify the others as to what has happened. Their covers have been blown, so they’ll need to find a way to meet us in South America. You’ll also need to call Snider and get one of our groups to blow up the vice presidential home. There are files on my computer that could expose the whole network, as well as all our financial holdings, and maybe even make it possible to trace us to South America. We don’t need the computers, so just blow them up. The information on the hard drives, at least through last week, has been backed up and is on Duitsman’s files. Oh, make sure when you talk to him, he takes the files with him when he escapes.”
“I will do so,” Wolff replied, quickly leaving the room.
“Wolff’s a good man,” Provost noted. “But I still wish I had Schluter with me. I had complete faith in him. He understood how important it was to check and recheck each detail.”
As Provost rambled on about the plan, Sara stared at him as if it was the first time she had ever seen him. She was still confused, bewildered, and frightened. With a note of sarcasm, she inquired, “Why did you bring me?”
“I couldn’t leave you behind,” Provost quipped. “You might not have been a part of this, but no one would have believed you didn’t know something. At the very least, you would’ve been convicted of conspiracy to overthrow the U.S. government, spend years in prison, and been scorned by the world forever. Besides, when you married me, I promised you wealth and power. While I’ve lost the power, the wealth’s still there. You can live out the rest of your life like a queen. And admit it, Sara, that’s why you married me anyway. You never loved me. And if you’d wanted a man of compassion and principle, you would’ve never divorced your first husband.”
“So you do love me?” she asked.
“As much as I can love anyone,” he honestly answered. “Besides, I’m used to having you around. If I’m going to live the rest of my life in a different world, I’d like you there with me.”
“You mean that?”
“Of course.”
The room’s door suddenly reopened, and the ambassador walked in.
“Good to see you, Santiago,” Provost said. “Wish it could be under different circumstances.”
“You have to get out of here,” the diplomat quickly replied. “Wolff told me what happened, and you’re way too hot for us to handle.”
“Excuse me,” the vice president said. “You’ve been paid more than $5 million for your part in this exercise, and during the past twenty years, your government has received more than five times that much from me just to keep this window open. The only stipulation I ever made was that you spirit me out of the United States and to our hideaway if anything in my plan went wrong. You keep your end of the bargain, or the operatives I have in this country and your native land will kill you and everyone in your family. Do you understand?”
The small dark-haired man stewed for a moment before he acquiesced. “The way this has happened, there’ll have to be more people paid off, maybe even some killed. It’ll cost you another $5 million.”
“Fine,” Provost replied. “Wolff will have the funds transferred to your Swiss account when we’re safely on the plane.”
“Then I’ll get the car ready,” the South American agreed. And after looking at Provost a final time, he added, “I will also make sure our doctor rides with you to treat your hand.”
“Thank you, Santiago.”
After the ambassador left the couple alone, Provost snickered. “You see, money really does make the world go round.”
He sat down on the couch across from his wife, now once again feeling in control of his life and fate, and patiently waited for Wolff and Santiago to return and inform him it was time to go. He had closed his eyes and almost dozed off when the latch turned and the door again opened. Rousing himself from his light nap, he expected to see either his associate or the ambassador. This guest was neither. Instead, as Provost rubbed the sleep from his eyes with his one good hand, he found a very old friend standing in front of him and smiling.
“Reitmeyer,” a shocked Provost gasped.
“Burr,” came the reply.