The drills had been run several times, at various times of day. Once clear of the base's gates, it would take the driver approximately thirty minutes to reach the cove where the modified seaplane was kept. Losing a man hadn't been part of the plan. Captain McNeely was a crack shot, that hadn't been in his file. Paul Johansen slapped his hand against the van's dash, letting the frustration and fury loose for a moment. Then, as he was trained, he put it away. The temporary glitch forced him to compromise. With one of their own men dead, there was no choice but to bring Masterson along. The original plan called for his disposal. That changed.
Paul drummed his fingers on his thigh, smiling slightly, hiding his anxiousness at reaching the plane. Once they rounded the bend in the road to the North Shore, the cove came into view. The plane sat in the water, bobbing slightly breached on the beach. Designed after the Pan American China Clipper, it was sleek, meant for long hauls, and could land where they were going. Ditching the van, the two assailants hefted Captain McNeely onto the plane. For a split second, Paul considered leaving Masterson in the van, to be the scapegoat for the abduction. Instead, he ran back, and dragged Masterson to the plane.
Once secured, the plane's engines roared and the plane began to cut through the spray, gathering speed. With a mighty rumble, the plane lifted from the sea. Keeping low, below most radar, the plane circled until it headed north, the cliffs and mountains of Oahu slipping further and further behind.
* * *
Twenty minutes after the plane had taken off; the two bodies of the secret servicemen were discovered along with the body of an unknown man. By unknown, his record was non-existent. He had no finger prints. No identity. When the USS Baton Rouge was searched, when James's base housing scoured over, it became apparent he went missing. With a quick call, the FBI's Honolulu office started the intelligence network to begin hunting the kidnappers of the son of the President of the United States.
* * *
On the first Wednesday of each month, the President sat down with his entire cabinet. They discussed current goals, issues, and concerns. He met with each member individually as needs required. Some, he met with more often, like the Secretary of State, others, less frequently. The meeting had been progressing well, comfortably, when a page entered and whispered into the ear of the Chief of Staff. He excused himself and stepped away from the room to find his deputy waiting for him.
"What is it, David?"
David Branson found his job enjoyable, even fun, until this moment. "There is a situation in Hawaii. Captain McNeely's secret service guards are dead. He's missing."
Chief of Staff Ken Simonson cursed vividly under his breath. "How long?"
"The bodies were discovered an hour ago."
"Christ, David. This is going to be ugly." Pacing away, he turned sharply. "Any information?"
David shook his head. "Not much. The Captain's lieutenant is missing as well. There was another body found, but so far, no one knows who he is."
"A ghost?"
"The FBI hasn't determined anything yet."
Muttering under his breath, Ken paced slowly. When he stopped, he looked at David. "Where is the Vice President?"
"He's just touched down in Australia."
Ken nodded. "Call him back." Walking back to the door, he cursed again. Because the FBI fell under the jurisdiction of the Justice Department, the Secret Service under the Commerce Department, and since the incident took place on a Navy base, the Secretary of Defense would need to stay behind. But before they could talk to the President, Ken had to tell the man his son was missing.
* * *
John was discussing with the Secretary of Agriculture the plans he'd tried for the six years he'd been in office to increase grain yields and cattle production in Wyoming and Nebraska, while working to increase the buffalo population. As Ken Simonson entered the room and the brisk nod he gave his people, John felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
"Excuse me, Mr. President. I must speak to you."
John looked at Ken, and somehow knew this was important, but would cut deep. Excusing himself, John stood and walked ahead of Ken, directly for the Oval Office. Sitting behind his desk, he waited for Ken to shut the door.
"Mr. President, there is a problem in Hawaii."
Before the last syllable had left Ken's mouth, John felt his blood run cold through his veins. James. "What's happened?"
"James's secret service guards were found dead. There's a third body, but no one knows who he is." Ken looked down on he file he was given as they walked to the oval office. "No one knows too much, I'm afraid."
John stood and clutched the back of his chair. "Where's the rest of my family?"
"Your wife is on her way back from New York. Sam and his wife are at their home, the children are with them. Luke and his wife are being escorted from their work. Lisa and her husband and kids are accounted for."
Shutting his eyes, John paced to look out the windows. Cursing silently beneath his breath, he turned to find Ken watching him expectantly. "Any hints who did this?"
Shifting from foot to foot, Ken looked down for a moment. "None." He cleared his throat and braced himself. "Mr. President, the Vice President is on his way back from Australia."
Shaking his head, John looked at his Chief of Staff. "The Australia trip is important. Why's he coming back?"
"We will have to invoke Amendment twenty-five, Mr. President."
"But..." The words died on John's lips. The questions, the morals of the situation made him pause. Of course he'd have to sign the paper. When faced with the issues of the world or the safety of his own son, the President of the United States became simple John McNeely, father. Turning away, John nodded his head. "You're right. Get the letter ready. I'll sign it and send it over to the Speaker and Senate."
Ken stepped towards the desk, putting the file on it, bracing his hands on either side of it. "We truly don't know what has happened. It could be—"
"No! I know something is wrong." Schooling his temper, John turned back to his trusted adviser and friend. "If it were your son, what would you do?"
Nodding, Ken stood erect. "The Vice President will be in California within eight hours. By the time Congress is made aware; he'll be ready and on American soil."
Rubbing the tension from his neck, John let out a huff of breath. "Bring the Secretary of Commerce and Defense in. Bring the Attorney General as well." Chuckling without humor, John strode toward his suite. "This is a jurisdictional nightmare."
