Harrison and Kendall leaned against the warehouse, doing their best not to appear suspicious and draw attention, occasionally peering through the window to ensure Mixell was still seated at the table, working on the computer. Thankfully, there was little traffic at this time of night, either vehicular or pedestrian, and no one took interest in the man and woman standing beside the old building.
Harrison was checking his watch again, counting down the time until the HRT unit arrived, when he suddenly realized Mixell was doing the same. He peered through the window just in time to catch Mixell glance at his watch, then return to his computer. He studied Mixell more closely, then realized he wasn’t working on the computer at all. He was just sitting there. Waiting.
Waiting for what?
A phone call? An event?
Harrison searched his memory for clues, then recalled the Swiss account dendrite shown at the NCTC, connecting Mixell to Futtaim and the three men tied to Kazan. Then the obvious answer dawned on him. He was waiting for Plecas to launch.
But then what?
A red border flashed around one of the displays, and Mixell leaned toward it. Harrison wiped the window pane a bit more. On the monitor was a video of the White House South Lawn, with the president and an entourage hurrying toward a green and white helicopter as it settled onto the grass, flanked by three identical helicopters landing nearby. Harrison recognized the Sikorsky Sea Kings, painted in the characteristic two-tone white over green presidential livery. The president was boarding Marine One.
The four helicopters lifted off simultaneously, immediately shifting their positions in an endless shell game, obscuring the location of the president from would-be assassins on the ground.
A second display on the table flashed with a red border, and Mixell turned to observe. On the monitor was a large aircraft hangar, whose doors pulled slowly apart, revealing a Boeing 747 jetliner.
Harrison put the clues together: the president was evacuating Washington on Marine One, heading to Joint Base Andrews where he would board Air Force One, which was being pulled from the hangar. Harrison reached one more conclusion, and a cold shiver ran down his spine.
Kazan had launched.
As Harrison wondered why Mixell was so interested in the president’s evacuation, his eyes went to the CONEX box, and he suddenly realized what was likely inside: a surface-to-air missile launcher.
Mixell was planning to shoot down Air Force One.
He pulled Kendall to the window and explained.
When he finished, he said, “We can’t wait for the HRT. We have to stop him. There must be a way inside.”
His eyes went to the metal front door, then to the window. The window was their only option. Perhaps if they broke through separate windows, one of them might make it through while the other provided cover.
“You want a way in?” Kendall asked. She pointed to the window pane. “Wish granted.”
Harrison took a look. The large garage door on the other side of the warehouse was rising upward.
He led Kendall around the building, stopping when they reached the garage door opening. Peering inside, he spotted Mixell at the back of the CONEX box. He had opened the doors and was extracting two heavy metal ramps from inside, muscling them into place. He was armed with a pistol in a shoulder harness, but as he set the second ramp in place, he was oblivious to Harrison poking his head around the edge of the garage door opening.
Harrison scanned the rest of the warehouse, spotting a woman’s body sprawled on the floor by the front door, her head twisted into an unnatural position. The realtor must have stopped by and seen too much. Aside from the dead woman and the man in the truck cab, there was only Mixell inside.
Outside the warehouse, Kendall stood beside Harrison, her back pressed against the wall, her pistol held ready. His eyes locked on to hers and she nodded. He held his hand up, all five fingers and thumb extended, retracting one digit into a fist at one-second intervals. When his hand clenched, they surged into the building, leveling their pistols at Mixell, who had his back to them.
Harrison addressed his former best friend. “Put your hands in the air!”
Mixell raised his hands as he slowly turned around. His gaze settled on Harrison, then shifted to Kendall and back.
“My, my,” Mixell said. “What a surprise.” Then he smiled and said, “For you.”
As Harrison tried to decipher his comment, Kendall swung her pistol toward Harrison’s head. “Drop your weapon.”
He turned toward her. “What the hell?”
“You’ve got three seconds to drop your firearm.”
Harrison quickly concluded he had no viable options. Kendall was standing too far away to disarm her. Plus, even if he could, he’d then have to deal with Mixell, who had a pistol in his shoulder holster and would quickly react.
“One,” Kendall announced.
The odds of defeating both of them were slim to none.
“Two.”
Harrison let his pistol fall to the ground.