Any Means Necessary (a Luke Stone Thriller-Book #1)

Chapter Twenty Two

10:23 a.m.

Washington, DC

"We're never going to make it."

Luke drove the company SUV toward the White House through mid-morning traffic. It was stop and go. They were running out of time.

The phone was plastered to his ear. It rang and rang. Finally, it picked up. For the third or fourth time in a row, he got her voicemail. She had told him that she and Gunner planned on going to the movies.

Her voice was vibrant and bright. He pictured her: beautiful, smiling, optimistic, and energetic. "Hi, this is Becca. I can't answer your call right now. Please leave a message after the tone, and I'll call you back as soon as I can."

"Becca!" he said. He took a breath. He didn't want to alarm her. "I need you to do something for me. I don't have time to explain. When you get this message, drive straight to the country house. Don't go home. Don't stop to pick up anything. Just get on the highway and go. If you need anything, you can always get it over there. I'll meet you there as soon as I can." He paused. "I love you both so much. Do this for me. Don't hesitate. Just go now, as soon as you hear this."

He hung up. Next to him, Ed sat ramrod straight. A thick vein stuck out on Ed's forehead. He was sweating.

"We gotta get around this traffic somehow," Luke said.

Ed reached into the glove compartment and pulled out an LED siren light. He mounted it on the dashboard, turned it on, and then hit the siren switch. Outside the car, the shriek of the siren was impossibly loud.

WAH-WAH-WAH-WAH-WAH.

"Go!" Ed said.

Luke pulled into oncoming traffic and laid on the horn. He tapped the accelerator, raced to the next light, then veered back into his own lane. He stomped on it now and the car took off like a missile.

"Go, man! Go!" Ed screamed.

Up ahead, cars at the next light pulled off to the right like a herd of animals. Luke blew through the intersection, going seventy miles per hour.

The phone rang.

"Swann?"

The voice had a subtle twang. "Luke, it's Don Morris."

"Don, I have to keep this line clear."

"Son, what are you doing? They told me you killed a man in a hospital in Baltimore."

Luke shook his head. "I didn't kill anyone. They're going to attack the White House. That's what this has been all along."

"That's not true, Luke. In the past ten minutes, they arrested two Arab kids, one at Grand Central and one in Hoboken. They were both carrying pressure cooker bombs in knapsacks. NSA is tracking down their identities and affiliations right now."

"Pressure cookers aren't dirty bombs!" Luke said. He heard the shrillness in his own voice. He sounded like a crazy person. He had barely slept in twenty-four hours. He knew that. His perceptions might be off. But this far off? Could it be? He glanced at the speedometer. They were going eighty-five miles an hour on city streets.

"The pressure cookers were cat's paws," Don said. "The bombs weren't even operational. The bad guys sent the kids in to see what the response would be. Now they know the targets are compromised."

Luke tried to slow his voice down, so that he and Don could have a rational conversation. He wanted to make Don understand what Luke thought was painfully clear. "Don, we talked to Eldrick Thomas. He was one of the thieves. We didn't kill him. He died of radiation poisoning. He told us the target is the White House."