The Curse of Medusa

Anderson stepped forward. “Sir, this is Mark Paton, a lawyer and also of course a federal judge. He’ll be swearing you in.”

Kimble nodded grimly. “Where’s the Chief Justice?”

Paton pulled a copy of the Bible from his suitcase. “Chief Justice Owens is on a fishing holiday in Montana, sir, but there’s no legal stipulation that he has to administer the oath.”

Grant’s Chief-of-Staff turned to Kimble. “Senator, with the exception of Jack Brooke who’s missing and presumed dead, the cabinet has convened by secure video-phone and approved the use of the Twenty-Fifth Amendment. Congressman Mitchell, USSS Agent King and the Secretary of Labor are here to act as witnesses. Are you ready to take the oath, Senator?”

Kimble glanced around the room at the men, and then above their heads at the portraits of George Washington and Abraham Lincoln. History started to weigh heavy on his shoulders. “I am, Mr Anderson.”

Mark Paton stepped forward with a copy of the Bible in his hand and spoke. His words were solemn and quiet in the hushed, grim atmosphere of the Oval Office.

“Then please raise your right hand and repeat after me…I, Edward Dupont Kimble do solemnly swear…”

Kimble cleared his throat. “I, Edward Dupont Kimble do solemnly swear…”

“That I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States…”

Kimble repeated the words slowly, a slight wobble in his voice. “That I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States…”

“And will to the best of my ability…”

He paused for half a second to ask himself if this was really happening. “And will to the best of my ability.”

Paton’s voice didn’t waver. “Preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.”

“Preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.”

“So help me God.”

Kimble swallowed hard. “So help me God.”

Paton lowered the Bible and shook Kimble’s hand. “Congratulations, Mr President.”

* * *

Hawke strapped himself in the pilot’s seat and moved his hand up to the overhead panel. He clicked the two battery switches and a computerized voice began to squawk.

“What the hell does that mean?” asked Alex as she sat down beside him and strapped herself in.

“It means we’re on battery power,” Hawke replied. “But battery power’s not going to get us to Washington.” He switched on the fuel tank pumps and started up the auxiliary power unit. Suddenly they heard a whining sound as the APU powered up and began to run the electrical systems.

He activated the avionics, emergency lights and APU bleed. “Yeah…” he said to himself. “I’m pretty sure that’s right — now engine start up.”

“Well make it quick!” Brooke said, poking his head through the cabin door. “A sniper killed Lopez and look over there!”

Hawke glanced through the cockpit window and saw an intense fire-fight taking place on the perimeter fence between local police and airport security on one side, and the men who had fired the grenade on the other.

Brooke clenched his jaw. “If they get through that fence we’re the next target!”

“So no pressure, then,” Hawke said, and checked the powerplant section on the overhead panel to ensure the ignition switches were on auto. He flicked open the safety covers and moved the control switch for Engine One to the start position.

Alex raised an eyebrow. “You seem to know your way around.”

“That’s what all the girls say,” Hawke said.

“And so modest, too.”

He ignored her and watched the instrument panels spring to life as the aircraft began pumping fuel to the engine.

“Oil temperature and oil pressure rising,” he muttered, and did the same procedure for engine two. “Now we’re cooking with gas!”

“And so are those maniacs!” Brooke said, pointing at the fence. The men had overwhelmed the local police force and broken through the perimeter. They were just under half a mile from their jet.

“They’re heading this way, Joe!” Alex said. “They want to kill my Dad!”

She felt Brooke squeeze her shoulder in reassurance, but she knew he would be scared too.

Hawke ignored everything and focussed, flicking off the APU bleeds now the engines were up and running and powering the aircraft. He checked the hydraulic electrical pumps were set to auto and glanced over the panels one last time, rubbing his hands together.

“Don’t you have to tell this thing where it’s going?” Alex said.

“Probably, but we’re just going to fly east and hope for the best.”

Before she could answer, Hawke pushed forward the throttles and the engines roared to life. The plane began to taxi toward the runway. “This is your captain speaking,” Hawke said. “I recommend a strong drink followed by strapping yourselves into your seats, in that order, and as fast as possible.”

He taxied the Embraer to Runway 13 as the gunmen climbed into an airport fire truck and raced toward them. Seconds later they were almost alongside them and began firing at the aircraft.

“Now that is just not cricket!” the Englishman muttered.