Detective Danny Cavanaugh 01 - The Brink

are responsible?” she replied. “Danny, I told you—”
    “I know. They move in covert ways. They don’t do the murder and mayhem thing. But what if you’re wrong this time, Sydney? Think about it. They’re trying to destroy the world’s only superpower. What if this is Plan B?”
    “What if what is Plan B?” Sydney replied.
    “Plan A was to try it through economics. You’ve thrown a considerable wrench in that plan. What if Plan B is to have someone steal nuclear material from Great Britain and use it to try and blow up Washington, D.C.? What if Plan B is to make the United States and Britain go to war?”
    Simon presented a question that Danny hadn’t pondered. “Who said it was stolen from Britain?”
    “You’re saying that the British government is responsible for these bombs?” Danny asked.
    “We can’t rule it out until we find out who shot down the prime minister’s plane and get to the bottom of things,” Simon answered.
    “Like you said, Sergeant,” the president added, “we think someone didn’t want Tony talking to us about the bombs. Who knows, King Edward could be one of these Bilder—”
    The president didn’t get a chance to finish. A gray-haired man with glasses stormed into the Oval Office and then hesitated a few steps inside the doorway. Two other men stood in the doorway behind him. Danny could see Agent Peter Devon out in the hallway, his cold stare attempting to penetrate inside Danny’s head.
    The president addressed the first man. “What can I do for you, Admiral?” The man crossed to President Butcher and whispered something in his ear. The president looked off in the distance for a split second before he stood. “Is everyone in the Sit Room?” he asked.
    “Yes, sir,” the man responded.
    “Good,” the president replied. He turned to Danny and Sydney. “Something’s come up. We’ll continue this later.”
    The president left the Oval Office with everyone trailing him. The train of bodies stopped as Danny watched President Butcher address Peter Devon. Devon waited for the president and his entourage to file past him before he entered the Oval Office. He stood tall in front of Danny and Sydney and spoke at a near whisper.
    “The president has asked that you come with me.”

Chapter 77
    Danny was caught red-handed. The Oval Office cracked open and he froze. The president crossed the room with Vanessa Dempsey stuck to his side. She bulldozed her way through the notes in her hand, handing him each one as she summarized it. Neither one even glanced in Danny’s direction.
    Danny turned from his crouched position over President Jack Butcher’s credenza. It was overflowing with framed pictures of the president’s life, both personal and political. There were several photos of him shaking hands with various celebrities: Sylvester Stallone on the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art, Mel Gibson at some formal event, even Steven Spielberg, the two of them dressed in tennis togs, no doubt at some celebrity fund-raiser. Another photo was of the 1975 Trinity College graduating class at Oxford. Danny spotted Butcher’s young, handsome face in the large crowd moments after looking at it. But he was especially taken with the photo of Jack Butcher with his son. Danny was vaguely familiar with how Simon Butcher had died from some horrific disease. In the picture, Simon was lying among a cluttered sea of tubes and machines in a hospital room. His frail body was nearly as white as the dingy sheets draped over him. Nevertheless, their hands were clenched together in a victorious apex. Danny could only imagine what a father would think at seeing his son in such a predicament. It could only be optimism coated with denial.
    We will beat this disease. We will be throwing the football around again. We will go on fishing trips. There is no chance my son will die.
    As the president approached him, Danny scrambled for the right thing to say.
    Your friends certainly cross the entire spectrum, Mr. President.
    I was just trying to pass the time by looking at your fantastic photos, Mr. President.
    You certainly have a beautiful family, Mr. President.
    Danny scratched the last one from his options. The president stopped short of him and sat in the rocker at the head of the conference area. Vanessa handed him a file folder and excused herself.
    “You know it’s a federal offense for you to be back there,” the president said, still examining the papers in his hands.
    Danny took