The Transfixed

chapter six

The black SUV that Bridget was thrown into suddenly came to a lurching stop. Through the bullet proof tinted windows, a green sign post could be seen that read "1400 Pennsylvania Avenue". The White House gates were just a quick jog to the left. Tourists dove in and out of nearby shops, hailed cabs, and pushed through traffic. Layers of wet, mucky December snow coated the sidewalks and shop windows. Snowflakes fought against the cold air and landed beneath the trampling feet of foreign boots.

Sam leaned forward from his crouched position in the back of the van. There was a large collection of camera monitors and sound headsets set up against the walls. "Act normal."

"Normal?"

He pushed himself over the front seats, and then motioned for her to follow him. Two of the black-clad henchmen switched places and tumbled into the back. Sam let out a breath as he settled into the driver's seat. Bridget was on the passenger's side, staring at him. But not too long. She didn't want to escape the scene and miss a chance at running.

Sam's eyes flickered over to her. "Here's the plan. You take this chip, and head up to the White House. There will be a man waiting for you at the gates to let you in through a back entrance. Don't give him any trouble- my father's paying him too much as it is." He slipped a small SD-card size piece of metal into her palm. There was a set of flashing red numbers on the side. The digits were counting down by seconds. "He will lead you to an empty room on the first floor, and then you're on your own.

"Take the first right out of the kitchen doors and you will see an elevator shaft. Continue to the second floor. Once you're in the West Wing, locate the doors to the Oval Office. Set the chip in the center of the resolute desk and get the heck out of there. You have thirty-four minutes." When she didn't move, he gave her a pointed look. "You might want to get going."

Bridget bit her lip as she stared down at the chip. "You want me to blow up the White House?" Her gaze leveled with his.

Sam smirked. "Continue being that slow with things, Miss Briggs, and the President of the United States won't be the only one blown to smithereens."

"What if I refuse to do it?" 

"Well, we can't exactly have a mushroom cloud going up in front of a random souvenir shop, so the only suitable way to detonate the bomb would be to swallow it." Sam gave her a wicked grin, "Have you ever swallowed a couple stacks of TNT? I hear it's the best way to go with a boom."

One of his henchmen cackled, whilst Bridget only glared.

"Fine, I'll do it. But I need to know something before I go," She pushed the chip into her jean pocket, briefly wondering how no one in the White House would notice her manhandled street clothes, "What is it that you really want from me? Am I just here to do your dirty work, or is it something bigger? If you don't want me because of my new connection with the President, what is it that you want?"

Sam dropped his posture into the back of the seat and closed his eyes for a moment. "I know about as much as you do. I'm not running this thing, my father is. He told me to bring you here and use you to knock America off our checklist. The last thing he said to me before I left was to remember that I have to bring you back alive. He said that this was a test. If you failed, he would know the truth. If you succeeded..." His eyes narrowed like he was thinking, "then he would know everything was a lie."

Bridget let his words consume her before saying, "So you don't really know why I'm doing this?"

Sam shrugged, and then leaned over to open her door. "You should stop asking stupid questions and get out of the damn car. The bomb can't be detonated manually. It will go off when the clock runs out." Then he pulled a smart phone out of his slack pocket and began to scroll through it, ignoring Bridget's calculating glare.