Read Online The Fallen: A Derek Stillwater Thriller by Mark Terry - Free Book Online
Authors: Mark Terry
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you.” As they shook hands the staff photographer snapped away.
“The other leaders are on their way, sir,” Newman said. “You have time to meet my staff before they arrive?”
“Of course. My pleasure.”
They strode into the interior of the museum. Several dozen military men and women stood at attention, awaiting their commander-in-chief’s presence. Slowly, with great ceremony, President Langston made a few remarks, then shook hands with each person in the building.
Lauren McCullough watched from the sidelines, pleased howLangston was doing. Beside her, Leeman checked his e-mail on the tablet computer. He said, “He seems preoccupied.”
“He’s always preoccupied.”
“More than usual.”
McCullough frowned. “Tobey, you do your job, okay? I’ll do mine. He’ll be fine.”
“They say these things are casual, but you and I know better. You don’t put the world’s top eight leaders around a table with twelve others observing from the sidelines without everybody scrambling for position. He needs to be at the top of his game.”
She stabbed him with her sharp gaze. “You worry too much.”
“You’re not going to be at the table alone with him.”
“I said he’ll be fine.”
Leeman glanced around the room, focusing for a moment on President Langston’s words. “— this emblem of our country’s courage in the face of sacrifice—”
Voice low, Leeman said, “He hasn’t been fine since the terrorist attacks. We all would have been happier if Richard Coffee had been caught before this summit. It’s what’s on his mind, isn’t it? That The Fallen Angels are going to somehow make a run at him again.”
“This summit is the most secure place in the world for the next three days, Tobey. Let Coffee take his best shot.”
Leeman glanced sharply at her. “Don’t tempt fate.” He tapped his tablet PC and groaned. “Hollenbeck’s plane just landed. Here we go. The British are coming, the British are coming—”
Chapter 19
Secret Service Agent Lee Padillo was in the International Center’s basement security office when FBI Agent Sarah Macklin stepped through the door. Padillo was lead agent for this event, in charge of all security. Macklin was the bureau’s point agent. Padillo, lean, swarthy, intense, sat back in an Aeron chair and stared intently at a computer screen in front of him, listening on an earpiece to an update from Peterson Air Force Base.
“Yes, everything’s ready here. All assets in place?”
His agent at Peterson Air Force Base said, “Finally got things settled down between the Saudis and Israel enough to let them land. There’s some quibbling over who rides with whom that should have been settled before now, but we’re on top of it.”
“ETA?”
“Thirty minutes. Wheels up in ten.”
“Affirmative.”
Padillo clicked off and spun in the chair to face Macklin. “Everybody’s gathered at Peterson and are loading onto the choppers as we speak. ETA thirty minutes.”
Macklin nodded. Slender, tall, athletic, she wore her auburn hair cropped just below her ears. Her navy blue suit was tailored to emphasize her broad shoulders, which made her appear more willowy than she actually was. She came off as determined because of a square jaw that she tended to lead with, and her habit of speaking through clenched teeth. “I need a minute in private.”
Padillo frowned. “Can it wait?”
She shook her head.
He waved her over to a private office and kicked out the agent who was using it. It was a utilitarian box, a few photos of mountain vistas onthe wall, a large metal desk, three chairs, and a computer. It was a temporary office used by whatever visiting security agent was running a particular security event. The resort’s security director, a former FBI agent, had a much nicer office down the hall.
Macklin shut the door and said, “I just got a phone call from Director Bray. Something’s going on. It’s political, but it has some security
“The other leaders are on their way, sir,” Newman said. “You have time to meet my staff before they arrive?”
“Of course. My pleasure.”
They strode into the interior of the museum. Several dozen military men and women stood at attention, awaiting their commander-in-chief’s presence. Slowly, with great ceremony, President Langston made a few remarks, then shook hands with each person in the building.
Lauren McCullough watched from the sidelines, pleased howLangston was doing. Beside her, Leeman checked his e-mail on the tablet computer. He said, “He seems preoccupied.”
“He’s always preoccupied.”
“More than usual.”
McCullough frowned. “Tobey, you do your job, okay? I’ll do mine. He’ll be fine.”
“They say these things are casual, but you and I know better. You don’t put the world’s top eight leaders around a table with twelve others observing from the sidelines without everybody scrambling for position. He needs to be at the top of his game.”
She stabbed him with her sharp gaze. “You worry too much.”
“You’re not going to be at the table alone with him.”
“I said he’ll be fine.”
Leeman glanced around the room, focusing for a moment on President Langston’s words. “— this emblem of our country’s courage in the face of sacrifice—”
Voice low, Leeman said, “He hasn’t been fine since the terrorist attacks. We all would have been happier if Richard Coffee had been caught before this summit. It’s what’s on his mind, isn’t it? That The Fallen Angels are going to somehow make a run at him again.”
“This summit is the most secure place in the world for the next three days, Tobey. Let Coffee take his best shot.”
Leeman glanced sharply at her. “Don’t tempt fate.” He tapped his tablet PC and groaned. “Hollenbeck’s plane just landed. Here we go. The British are coming, the British are coming—”
Chapter 19
Secret Service Agent Lee Padillo was in the International Center’s basement security office when FBI Agent Sarah Macklin stepped through the door. Padillo was lead agent for this event, in charge of all security. Macklin was the bureau’s point agent. Padillo, lean, swarthy, intense, sat back in an Aeron chair and stared intently at a computer screen in front of him, listening on an earpiece to an update from Peterson Air Force Base.
“Yes, everything’s ready here. All assets in place?”
His agent at Peterson Air Force Base said, “Finally got things settled down between the Saudis and Israel enough to let them land. There’s some quibbling over who rides with whom that should have been settled before now, but we’re on top of it.”
“ETA?”
“Thirty minutes. Wheels up in ten.”
“Affirmative.”
Padillo clicked off and spun in the chair to face Macklin. “Everybody’s gathered at Peterson and are loading onto the choppers as we speak. ETA thirty minutes.”
Macklin nodded. Slender, tall, athletic, she wore her auburn hair cropped just below her ears. Her navy blue suit was tailored to emphasize her broad shoulders, which made her appear more willowy than she actually was. She came off as determined because of a square jaw that she tended to lead with, and her habit of speaking through clenched teeth. “I need a minute in private.”
Padillo frowned. “Can it wait?”
She shook her head.
He waved her over to a private office and kicked out the agent who was using it. It was a utilitarian box, a few photos of mountain vistas onthe wall, a large metal desk, three chairs, and a computer. It was a temporary office used by whatever visiting security agent was running a particular security event. The resort’s security director, a former FBI agent, had a much nicer office down the hall.
Macklin shut the door and said, “I just got a phone call from Director Bray. Something’s going on. It’s political, but it has some security
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