CHAPTER 54

DAY 6
6:00 P.M. (EST)

Vice President Henry Tilden shifted from one foot to the other. He was standing in the middle of an orderly food line that snaked along two walls of the House Chamber. Ellis watched the man from halfway across the hall.… Watched and waited.

More people than ever were coughing now, she noted. Some coughed just a little bit, as if they were trying to clear a bothersome tickle from their throats. Others, including the president’s wife and daughter, were suffering from a more persistent, wet hacking.

Ellis made eye contact with Gladstone, who was some fifty people in line behind Tilden. A slight nod from her and Gladstone abandoned his place. He walked past Tilden, and without offering an apology or explanation, cut in front of Supreme Court Justice Alfred Bauer. In the past, and at times during the current crisis, Ellis had witnessed the crusty Bauer lose his temper, usually without much provocation. Minor offenses such as loud talking, or even snoring, had been triggers enough to set off the already agitated, elderly judge. Ellis was counting on Bauer losing his cool one more time.

“You can’t cut the line, young man,” Ellis heard him say to Gladstone.

Gladstone, in response, turned to Bauer, and just as they had rehearsed said, “You can’t make me leave. You’re not the all-powerful justice, here.”

Gladstone then turned away from the man and resumed his waiting.

“I don’t tolerate that sort of disrespect, young man,” Bauer snapped.

“I frankly don’t care what you tolerate or don’t tolerate.”

Bauer took the bait and pushed Gladstone in the small of his back. Ellis’s aide stumbled forward. He waved his arms wildly in the air, pretending to lose his balance, and crashed into the man standing in front of him. Then he executed a quick side step to his right, and the man into whom he had fallen responded with an angry shove into Bauer’s chest. The justice countered with a wild, errant punch that missed his target, but grazed across a congresswoman’s jaw.

The ensuing melee exploded like a match on gasoline-soaked rags.

Having predicted every moment of the scenario, Ellis listened to the escalating shouting and startling profanities from men and women, many of them with impeccable pedigrees. She watched as more people joined in, pushing and shoving, and calling other combatants names.

We’ll teach you the right way to brawl, she was thinking. The way we do it in the deep South.

Punches were now being thrown. Boxed dinners were flying like missiles. A congressman was repeatedly kicking a fallen reporter in the abdomen and head. Pent-up frustration and anger, in all likelihood fueled by WRX3883, burst forth like an oil well gusher. Secret Service agents quickly rushed in to quell the mayhem. Several of them became enmeshed in it. Others extracted Allaire’s wife and daughter before they could become victims of the increasing violence. Capitol Police and more agents came together to pry apart several small pockets of fighting. Noses were bleeding, now, as fists continued to fly. Congressmen and -women were on the floor along with other dignitaries, cowering or flailing with their hands and feet.

“I can’t take this anymore!” Ellis heard somebody scream.

“Stop hitting me! I didn’t do anything to you!” shouted another.

Ellis and Gladstone grabbed Tilden by the arms before any Secret Service agents could get to him.

“Come with us,” she yelled into his ear. “There’s a problem with President Allaire. Dr. Townsend wants us right away.”

Tilden nodded and allowed himself to be guided out of the House Chamber into the corridor that would lead across the Capitol to the Senate wing. As Ellis had predicted, the guards who had been posted at the doors had rushed in to help quell the fight. The screaming and racket muted once the exit doors closed behind them. Ellis was not the least surprised that her tactics were working perfectly. It was probable that no one had noticed them leaving.

“What’s going on?” Tilden asked.

There was confusion and panic in his voice and expression. Ellis wondered if he was reacting to the riot, or to the notion of becoming president. Probably both, she decided. How in the hell had he ever made it so high?

“Townsend is waiting for us by the Senate Chamber,” she said. “We’ve got to hurry.”

“Why there?” Tilden asked.

“You saw what’s going on here. Townsend couldn’t meet us on the rostrum, and she couldn’t risk getting together anywhere near the president. He’s become paranoid about being removed from office. His doctor used the word ‘dangerous’ to describe him. That’s her word, not mine.” Ellis held up a metal tube. “I’ve got the documents rolled up in here that Townsend has prepared for us to sign.”

Ellis and her aide walked the vice president at a brisk pace. According to the information that O’Neil had provided, Allaire was in a meeting with Salitas and would be there for at least an hour. If O’Neil were wrong about that, and by accident they bumped into the president, she would have to think fast. But she was totally capable of doing that. And besides, it was unlikely the man would venture into this wing, especially given the diversion Gladstone had started in the other.

Nice!

They led Tilden to the Senate Chamber, following the same route that Ellis had taken earlier—down the West Grand Staircase, across the House connecting corridor, into the Senate connecting corridor, and finally up the East Grand Staircase. She knew that all patrols to this side of the Capitol had been stopped per Allaire’s orders—more useful intelligence from O’Neil. Perhaps there could be room for him in her administration after all.

Ellis quickened her steps to separate herself from Tilden. Gladstone dropped back. When the Senate Chamber door came into view, she dropped the metal mailing tube to the marble floor. It landed behind her with a loud, resonating clank. Fumbling to retrieve it, she kicked it so that it would roll toward Tilden and away from the door.

“I’ll get that,” the tall vice president said, bending down.

Ellis stood in front of the chamber door, blocking the door handles from his line of sight. There was a plastic bucket by her feet. The lock and chain that had once secured the doors were now coiled inside it. Gladstone had done his job well. He always did. Before he started the food line riot, he had gotten the key to the Senate Chamber lock from O’Neil, along with a blue plastic temporary handcuff.

In the few moments Tilden was retrieving the metal tube, Ellis cut the plastic ties securing the door using a knife she had purloined from the food service. By the time Tilden reached her with the tube, she had already kicked the pieces of the temporary handcuffs under the door.

“If Townsend is right,” she said, “you’ll be taking the oath of office in a few hours.”

Gladstone readied himself as Ellis held her breath and pulled open the doors. Tilden hesitated at the threshold, clearly taken aback by the commotion and the stench.

But it was too late.

Gladstone shoved him brusquely into the vast room, and Ellis quickly closed the door behind him. Then she slipped the tube through the door handles. They could hear Tilden screaming and pounding from inside.

“Open up! For God’s sakes, Ursula! Open the door! Help!… Hey, let go of me. Let go of me, dammit!”

No patrols. No guards. No worries.

With Gladstone holding the tube in place and keeping his shoulder hard to the door, Ellis pulled the chain from the bucket and looped it through the handles. The door bucked as Tilden, still crying out, continued to push against it from the other side.

And then, quite suddenly, his screaming stopped.