Detective Danny Cavanaugh 01 - The Brink

Fantroy’s plane inside what should have been the most patrolled section of the entire planet. He was confident that the residents of D.C., its surrounding suburbs, and the rest of the American people would remain cautious and vigilant after hearing about the attack. So far, he had guessed correctly.
    Jack was sick of hearing the voices of the people in the room. Fortunately, he caught a glimpse of one of the monitors on the wall. It was a CNN feed, and it was focused on the section of Pennsylvania Avenue right outside the White House.
    Jack pointed at the monitor and spoke, his words cutting off General Seth Meyers in mid-sentence.
    “Can we get that CNN feed on the big screen?”
    A man in uniform went over to the monitors and pressed a few buttons to make Jack’s wish come true.
    “What in God’s name?” Simon Shilling said as he squinted at the screen. “Is that happening right now?”
    “Can we get some volume on that screen, please?” Jack asked the soldier. He gave his commander in chief a brisk, “Yes, sir,” and made Jack’s second wish come true.
    The voice of Grace Styles, the senior White House reporter for CNN, was instantly piped in through all eight ceiling speakers and the speakerphone unit on the table.
    “We don’t know what this guy wants or why he’s undressed for that matter. The only thing we know right now is that he is armed and is apparently holding this woman hostage.”
    Suddenly, the camera zoomed in on the man and his hostage. “Okay, okay, what’s he doing? Now he’s lying down on the ground, and he’s ordering the woman to lie on top of him. Wait now, his hostage just threw what looks to be a piece of paper on the ground. Now the gunman is yelling something. Do we know what he’s yelling? Do we know what he just said? Ladies and gentlemen, we’re trying to figure out what this guy wants. Do we know if the president is in fact inside the White House?” Grace paused as she received answers in her earpiece. “Yes, o … okay. The president is inside the White House, but we’re not sure if he knows what’s going on outside, just steps away. All I can say is that I’ve never seen anything like this before in my life.”
    Just then, Jack heard the commotion outside of the Sit Room and knew what was coming. The doors exploded open. Peter Drake and his men instantly huddled around him. They grabbed underneath his armpits and lifted him out of his chair. The rest of room was standing now, taken aback at the force by which the president of the United States was being handled. Jack let his body go limp again, knowing it was the best way to handle this onslaught. But as he was being pulled out of the room, he kept his eyes on the CNN feed. The camera captured a Secret Service agent running over to grab the piece of paper the woman threw on the ground.
    “Wait!” Jack yelled, finally recognizing the assailant from the report Simon had given him earlier. “That’s Danny Cavanaugh!”
    Peter Drake had his orders and continued to carry them out. Jack was halfway out the doorway when he saw Cavanaugh throw his gun across the street. Instantly, he heard his son’s voice in his head.
    “Simon says fight them!”
    Jack tightened his body and grabbed hold of the doorway. “He dropped his weapon! Goddamn it, he’s unarmed now! There’s no immediate threat! Stand down! Stand down!”
    Peter Drake looked at the TV screen. A Secret Service agent yanked the woman away from Cavanaugh. Several other agents surrounded him. He flipped over on his stomach and held his empty hands up in the air.
    Drake let go of Jack and ordered his agents to do the same. “Our apologies, sir. We’re simply—”
    “I know, following orders.” Jack smoothed himself and stepped across the room. He studied the CNN feed.
    “Pete,” the president started as he pointed at the screen, “the agent who grabbed the paper from her, get him. I want to see that piece of paper immediately.”
    “Yes, Mr. President.”
    “I also want to speak to her ASAP. Cavanaugh, too.”
    “Sir, we have procedures. They need to be searched and questioned.”
    Jack turned to Peter Drake. “He’s not armed any longer, Pete. Unless he’s got a bomb buried in his underwear, he’s no immediate threat to me or to the White House, correct?”
    “Yes, sir,” Agent Drake replied.
    Simon Shilling placed himself at Jack’s side. “Mr. President, why do you want to talk to them?”
    “Don’t you think it’s odd that