Detective Danny Cavanaugh 01 - The Brink

explained his presence. “I was in the building, Mr. President, and thought you could use my expertise.”
    Jack nodded at him and moved on. To Harry’s left was Rita Rodriguez, Jack’s senior White House counselor. Rita was second only to Charlie when it came to pulling punches. She called them like she saw them and played with the cards with which she was dealt. But right now, she needed to work on her poker face. She had no time for Harry Tharp and had confided to Jack during more than one of their Oval strategy sessions her thoughts on Harry’s incompetence.
    Seated on Jack’s right was Blake Conway. Blake was Jack’s press secretary and was the complete opposite of Charlie and Rita. Blake came from a wealthy African American family in Baltimore. A true Gemini, Jack had seen Blake transform himself many times from one of the most well-spoken bullshit artists in the D.C. game to one of the boys in the hood and pull both sides of his personality off with astounding sincerity. Underneath the suave demeanor and impeccable wardrobe that cost much more than even Jack spent on clothes, Blake Conway was a Baltimore kid who had the golden ticket. He was going to make good for his community, his family, and most of all for himself. During one of the usual late nights that Blake remained working in his office, Jack had asked him how he had come to work so hard. He was a trust fund kid; why not spend his nights partying and his days sleeping in? Blake had given an answer that Jack would never forget.
    “Because the idea of America is too important, Mr. President.”
    From that point on, Jack would have bet money with any takers on Blake Conway becoming a future president of the United States.
    The final occupant in the room was Benjamin Speakes. As director of the White House Military Office, he managed several items, one of which was the nuclear football. He sat in one of the chairs that ringed the room’s perimeter, firmly aware of his position. Just like in the practice runs, the unassuming briefcase that contained the nuclear launch codes was handcuffed to his wrist. In the two practice sessions, it had remained on the floor next to Speakes’s chair. Now, however, it had the more visible perch in his lap. White House protocol stated that anytime the president went to the PEOC, the nuclear football went in with him. Jack’s gut tightened as he realized the power to end much of the life on the planet rested only a few feet away.
    Jack settled his eyes on Blake. “What’s going on?”
    “One of the ring sensors went off near the Washington Monument. A NEST team is investigating as we speak.”
    A natural feeling of dread penetrated Jack as soon as the acronym for the Nuclear Emergency Search Team registered in his brain.
    “Have they cleared the monument?” Jack asked.
    “Yes, sir,” Blake responded.
    “How?”
    “Gas leak story, sir.”
    Jack didn’t like the fact that his administration had been reduced to lying to the American people to cover the possible discovery of a nuclear device. But with six situations where suspicious packages had been discovered on American soil since taking office, and all of them being false alarms, Jack knew that America would see him as the boy who cried wolf if he disclosed them all. It was always better to cover evacuations of public places with alternate stories, like natural gas leaks. NEST even carried with them a machine that spewed natural gas vapors into the air to back up their story.
    Jack visualized Blake Conway standing behind the White House Press Room podium in his Joseph Abboud suit, the spotlights highlighting the conviction in his cool, brown eyes as he delivered the gas leak story. But of course, this time was different. This was the first time a report had come from inside the Beltway, on District of Columbia soil, let alone on the grounds of one of America’s most coveted memorials.
    “Wait a second,” Jack peered over at Simon. “Ring sensor? You mean the ring around Washington?” Simon nodded. They were referring to the grid of radiation detection devices that had been secretly placed around the entire district in 2001. The system was a complete failure. Not only could it not ascertain unique signatures from various types of radiation, it was constantly picking up false readings from medical waste, hazardous materials, and even emissions from the granite monuments and buildings that speckled the D.C. landscape.
    “I thought the ring was