Detective Danny Cavanaugh 01 - The Brink

pretty please wouldn’t do it. At least he can’t track us anymore.”
    “They can track us other ways, Danny. Through financial transactions, finding our family and friends and intimidating them.”
    “Plus they’ll send others, reinforcements.”
    Sydney nodded. “They will never stop.”
    The two fell silent for a long moment. The only sound came from the thumping of car tires as they crossed over the on-ramp’s concrete sections.
    Danny remembered back to the last moments of his conversation with Senator Halsey just before he was shot. Halsey hadn’t given him anything that wasn’t already known about his public service record and his private life. Booker tried changing the subject by questioning Sydney’s motives.
    “How much do you know about this girl, Danny? Who is she really working for? Christ boy, for all you know she’s in bed with the same bastards who pulled off the attack on the D.C. Metro system.”
    “We have to get to Washington, D.C,” Danny blurted.
    “Why Washington?”
    “Because during my little chat in the woods with Senator Halsey, he told me about a sarin gas attack on the D.C. Metro system. I don’t believe in coincidences. It has to be related to your Bilderberger plot.”
    Sydney gasped. “Oh God. Was anyone hurt?”
    Danny hunched his shoulders. “Don’t know. But it only confirms that we need to go straight to the top with what we know.”
    “The top of what, Danny?”
    “I wouldn’t be a very good American citizen if I didn’t try to warn my president of a possible threat, now would I?”

Chapter 45
    President Jack Butcher remained sequestered inside the Presidential Emergency Operations Center while the NEST team completed their investigation of the remaining National Mall monuments.
    So far, the NEST team hadn’t found anything. The only good news was that their trigger expert had been able to deactivate the bomb at the Washington Monument.
    Jack didn’t like playing the waiting game. He clamored to his feet, ignoring every piece of state-of-the-art communication technology surrounding him, and went straight for the dry-erase board on the wall. He scribbled three notes in blue marker.

    Wait for material confirmation
    Contact leader of nation of origin
    Begin negotiations for identities of terrorists

    Jack clicked the marker cap several times. “What’s the consensus on the material being Russian?”
    Jack looked at Simon, who was about to answer when he heard Harry Tharp clear his throat.
    “High, Mr. President. Damn high. The Russians have little to zero security of their nuclear material. I’m sure you’ve read my reports on the efforts of Al Qaeda, Hamas, and even the Irish Republican Army. They’re always on the lookout for lost Russian nukes.”
    “I agree with Harry,” Simon continued. “I’m sure most of us caught that story on Dateline NBC , where the producers gained access to a Russian nuclear laboratory with fake credentials they made with Photoshop.” All the heads in the room nodded. “But I wouldn’t count out our friends in North Korea or China either. With all the whining Iran’s doing about their need to be a recognized nuclear power, I wouldn’t be surprised if Ahmadinejad doesn’t already have some weapons-grade plutonium stuffed somewhere.”
    “And I can guarantee that we’re not on any one of their Christmas card lists,” Charlie Jacoby chimed in.
    Jack looked around the room and saw the rest of the group nodding. He was about to ask the next logical question when the PEOC phone rang.
    Jack strode back to his post and picked up the phone. “Jack Butcher.”
    “Mr. President, I have some news for you, sir.”
    It was Vanessa Dempsey. “What is it?” Jack answered.
    “Senator Booker Halsey’s been shot.”
    “Shot?” Even though they couldn’t hear Vanessa, the word made everyone in the room stiffen. “Where?”
    “He was playing tennis at his club in Houston, sir.”
    “Jesus. Who shot him?”
    “The alleged suspect is a Texas Ranger named Danny Cavanaugh, sir.”
    “Danny Cavanaugh?” The name sounded familiar to Jack. He only needed to flash his eyes at Simon Shilling to jog his memory.
    As usual, Simon didn’t disappoint. “He’s that Texas Ranger who’s on the run for killing an FBI agent, Mr. President.”
    “Right,” Jack replied to Simon, “the Espinoza debacle.” He put the receiver back to his mouth. “How’s Booker doing?”
    “He was transported to Ben Taub Hospital. He’s in