Kill Alex Cross

Vice President Flynn is at the top, with Secretary Ribillini from Homeland Security at number eighteen.”
    “Oh, Jesus.” Coyle had heard everything he needed to know. “Tell me Martin Cho wasn’t on that list.”
    “I’m afraid so. Right below the Speaker of the House and the president pro tempore of the Senate.”
    “So in other words …,” the president said slowly.
    “That’s right, sir,” Burns affirmed. “We’re talking about the entire line of succession to the presidency.”

NORMA TIEFEL, THE Counterterrorism Adviser, spoke next. “Everyone on that list will be receiving a full protective detail in addition to whatever security service they already have. That means dedicated intelligence agents, CAT teams on standby, also advance and transportation. Although we’re hoping to keep travel to a minimum.”
    “They can’t shut down our goddamn government!” the president shouted at Tiefel. “That’s exactly what they want! And exactly why I came back to Washington. Do you know what kind of flak they gave Bush for being in the air on Nine/Eleven?”
    “That wasn’t his call, sir. I’m aware it wasn’t his fault,” Tiefel said as diplomatically as she could.
    “Yes, exactly. I’m sure it wasn’t his fault,” Coyle said. It was all this programmed movement he hated. The sense of traveling through the world not as one person, but as five, six, ten, and twenty at a time. That was the real weight of the presidency.
    “For the time being, sir,” Tiefel said, “it is best for you to keep out of sight.”
    “ Again ,” the president grumbled, and turned in his seat, away from all the unwanted advice. “Archie, where are we going?” he called back.
    Agent Walsh, the head of the president’s protective detail, stood up in the small passageway between them and the pilot.
    “Andrews, sir. Air Force One is on standby.”
    “And then?”
    Walsh stayed where he was but was mute, awkwardly not answering the question. It wasn’t for Burns’s or Tiefel’s ears at this point.
    “ Never mind, goddamnit ,” the president barked. He could feel Regina’s hand on his own, gentle and firm at the same time. When he looked at her, she seemed to be holding it all together by a sheer act of will. He owed her the same self-control. Actually he owed it to his advisers as well. They were in danger now, too.
    “What about Cho’s family?” he asked.
    “We’ve got agents on the ground in Bethesda and Oakland,” Burns told him. “They’ll have a full security detail within the hour — Mrs. Cho, both of their sons, and Secretary Cho’s mother.”
    “I’ll want to speak with Lottie directly.”
    “Of course, sir. We’ll also have the Joint Chiefs in a video conference once we’re away,” Tiefel said. “And after that, the same CIA work group as before, if you care to sit in. It might be a good idea.”
    “Of course it’s a good idea,” said the president.
    “That’s the group with Alex Cross, isn’t it?” Mrs. Coyle asked.
    “Yes, ma’am.” Burns anticipated her next question. “He won’t be asked to change focus.”
    “Good,” she said. “Thank you.” It was no secret by now that the First Lady had handpicked the well-known police detective for the kidnap investigation. Nobody was going to tell her no on that one.
    “The world’s watching us, Ron,” the president said. “Especially our country’s enemies. We need to get this in hand, once and for all. I want hourly reports, and I want a briefing on a full range of options. Do you understand?”
    “Yes, Mr. President. Completely. We all do.”
    “I mean a full range.”
    “Of course, sir.”
    “I’m not going to fuck around with this anymore.”
    “Ed —” The First Lady slid a hand up her husband’s arm.
    “Sorry,” he said. “ Sorry . But this ends here. Now . Whatever it takes.”
    The president sat back. Out the window, he could see one of four other identical choppers flying alongside, a standard protocol to reduce the risks from a possible ground attack. Anything seemed possible right now. Their departure from the White House had gone smoothly enough. Now the convoy headed southeast, toward Andrews, eleven miles away.
    After that, Edward O. Coyle, the most powerful man in the world, had no idea what to expect. Hell, he could be dead in the next few minutes. The unthinkable was no longer unthinkable.

CIA HEADQUARTERS WAS lit up like a fluorescent box when I got there late that night. The powers that