Free The Lance (The PROJECT: Book Two) by Alex Lukeman Page B

Virginia countryside, an hour and a half from Alexandria. Elizabeth had set it up two years ago. Not even the President knew about it.
    " We'll leave now for the house. Then we decide our next moves. If I'm right, it won't be long before people will be looking for us."
    Elizabeth looked up at the flag, then back at the others. "Agreed?"
    The four got back in their vehicles. In a short time it was as if they had disappeared from the face of the earth.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
     
     
    Carter and Rivka were in the sushi bar at Nick's hotel. It was evening. Two of the president's entourage sat at the end of the counter, watched by a Secret Service agent loitering near a tall, potted palm.
    Nick's headache was gone. The fingers of his hand were swollen and stiff, but aside from that he felt pretty good. He downed a cup of sake, to help his fingers.
    " So, now you've seen Old Jerusalem." Rivka sipped her sake and set it down. She lifted a piece of maguro with her chopsticks. "I'm curious. What do you think?"
    " It's like a schizophrenic's dream. Like three or four different worlds."
    " They are different worlds. Jerusalem puts on a face of diversity but it's a time bomb. Jews, Christians and Arabs are all crammed into sections of the city side by side. They don't like each other."
    " Religion doesn't have much to do with reason."
    " That's the problem."
    " You're not religious?"
    " I love my religion, but I'm what they call a secular Jew. The Orthodox disapprove of people like me. Those kinds of divisions in Israel make it hard to get any real consensus."
    " Like peace with the Palestinians."
    "Like that." She nodded and dipped a tuna roll into soy sauce. "It's an impossible situation. Too much blood's been spilled. There's too much anger."
    " You sound like Ari." He poured another cup of sake. It was good, light and dry, not too sweet.
    " Ari's right. All that's likely to come out of this trip by your President is trouble."
    Carter looked at his watch and signaled for the check.
    They walked out to the lobby and the elevator.
    " I'd better ride up with you," she said. They got out on the fifth floor and walked along the deserted corridor. At Carter's door, he stopped short. He held up his damaged hand and slipped his pistol out. The tell-tale he'd placed on the door was out of place. Rivka drew her pistol. She held it pointed toward the ceiling in both hands.
    Maid service? She mouthed the words. Nick shook his head, pointed at the Do Not Disturb sign hanging on the handle.
    He took the plastic room key out of his pocket, stepped to the side of the door and inserted it into the slot. A green light came on with a loud click. The lock released. He pushed the handle down. Like most modern hotel doors, it was designed to close by itself. No way to throw the door open and have it stay that way.
    Maybe this was nothing. Maybe the maid had come in and left chocolates on the pillow.
    He pushed the door in hard and went in fast and low, gun held out in front. The room was dark. The glass balcony doors were halfway open. He'd left them closed. Across the way, the illuminated fortress walls of the Old City crowned the ancient hills. A cool desert breeze bearing the clean smell of Jerusalem pine and fading heat came in from the terrace.
    To the right, the bathroom door was open. There was no one inside. A short wall blocked the part of the main room with the bed. Rivka was right behind him, silhouetted against the hallway lights outside the room.
    A black figure appeared on the terrace and fired. His gun spit hard, raw coughs and bright flashes from the muzzle. Nick fired three quick shots. Blooms of light lit the room as he pulled the trigger. Rivka's pistol barked next to him, crisp, flat explosions.
    The glass doors to the terrace disintegrated . The bullets drove the shooter back over the balcony railing. His scream lasted past all five floors to the courtyard below. It stopped suddenly with a sound like someone dropping a sack of wet