King and Maxwell (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 6)
Page 206
As blankets were wrapped around her Michelle lay back and closed her eyes. And then she smiled.
At least I finally got to ride in the Beast, she thought.
CHAPTER
80
IN A PRIVATE WHITE HOUSE ceremony Sean and Michelle received the country’s thanks for saving its leader from certain death. And fortunately for President John Cole, this latest attack on the country’s highest officeholder and his dramatic and heroic escape from death had rallied all around him. Even his most ardent political opponents had dropped their cries for investigation and impeachment, at least for the time being.
After the ceremony was concluded, Cole shook hands with Sean, thanking him for his quick thinking and sound advice to Michelle. And then Cole broke protocol and gave Michelle a heartfelt hug, while Mrs. Cole did the same to both Michelle and Sean.
“Thank you,” both the president and First Lady said together.
Littlefield and McKinney had attended the ceremony. Both agents had been given commendations for their work in busting up the conspiracy to first embarrass the nation and possibly draw it into a war, and then to kill its leader.
On the downside, the kidnappers had not yet broken their silence. And the team of movers at the AM station did not know anything about what they were moving. Or at least that’s what they claimed. The billion euros, or what was left of it, was still missing. And, most significantly, Alan Grant had not yet been found.
As they walked to her Land Cruiser after the White House ceremony Michelle said, “You look nice in a suit. You should wear one more often.”
Sean smiled and shook his head. “Had enough of that in the Service. My battle armor was a Brooks Brothers off-the-rack, tie, and wing tips. And sunglasses. The rest of my life will be spent in casual mode.”
She held up the medal the president had bestowed on them. “Except when you get one of these, you mean.”
“Except then. How’re the shots feeling?”
Michelle and Cole had undergone a series of antibiotic treatments, some of which had been by injection. They had both been in the Potomac and had swallowed some of the water. And while the river was cleaner than it had been decades ago, when it had been semi-radioactive, one still wouldn’t want to drink it.
“My butt has felt better, let’s leave it at that.”
They climbed into her truck.
“Been meaning to ask you something.”
“Okay,” said Sean.
“How did you think of blowing the oxygen tanks to get us out of the Beast? I can’t believe you guys practiced that scenario when you were on protection detail.”
“We didn’t,” Sean admitted as he put on his seat belt. “Nothing close. Air Force One has water-landing scenarios, but not the Beast.”
“So how, then?”
“Can we leave it at my brilliantly incisive mind that can size up any critical situation and move like a laser to the solution?”
Michelle belted up and then started the truck. “Don’t make me get physical with you, Sean.”
He sighed. “Okay, but this is only for your ears.” He paused. “I remembered it from Jaws.”
She leaned on the steering wheel and stared at him. “Jaws?”
“Yeah, the movie Jaws. Roy Scheider’s character is the small-town sheriff stuck in the middle of the ocean and the shark is bearing down on him. But the shark has an oxygen tank wedged in its mouth from where it sank a dive boat. Scheider just happens to have a gun. He shoots, hits the tank. Boom. No more shark.”
“So I’m sitting here talking to you instead of lying in the morgue because of a Spielberg flick?”
“What can I tell you? It made an impression on me when I first saw it.”
She patted him on the shoulder. “Well, thank God it did.”
Once they got out of the city she said, “So what will happen to Sam Wingo?”