The Devil on the Doorstep
by
Joseph Flynn
Stray Dog Press, Inc.
Springfield, IL
2013
Praise for Joseph Flynn’s novels
“Flynn is an excellent storyteller.” — Booklist
“Flynn keeps the pages turning.” — Houston Chronicle
“Flynn propels his plot with potent but flexible force.” — Publishers Weekly
Digger
“A mystery cloaked as cleverly as (and perhaps better than) any John Grisham work.”
— Denver Post
“Surefooted, suspenseful and in its breathless final moments unexpectedly heartbreaking.”
— Booklist
“An exciting, gritty, emotional page-turner.”— Robert K. Tannenbaum, New York Times Bestselling Author of True Justice
The Next President
“The Next President bears favorable comparison to such classics as The Best Man, Advise and Consent and The Manchurian Candidate.” — Booklist
“A thriller fast enough to read in one sitting.” — Rocky Mountain News
The President’s Henchman
“Marvelously entertaining.” — ForeWord Magazine
Copyright
The Devil on the Doorstep
by
Joseph Flynn
Published by Stray Dog Press, Inc.
Springfield, IL 62704, U.S.A.
Copyright Stray Dog Press, Inc., 2013
All rights reserved
Author website: www.josephflynn.com
Flynn, Joseph
The Devil on the Doorstep / Joseph Flynn
131,520 words eBook
ISBN 978-0-9887868-1-3
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
Publisher’s Note
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously; any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
eBook design by Aha! Designs
Dedication
For all the friends of Jim McGill and all his friends.
Acknowledgements
For Catherine, Susan, Anne, Caitie and everyone else who helps me keep my overhead low. Otherwise, I’d have to charge a whole lot more for these books. A special nod to Catherine, whose cover design for this book really knocks me out.
Character List
[in alphabetical order by last name]
Edward Baxter, senior VP, commercial realty
Giles Benedict, artist, forger, fugitive conman
Richard Bergen, Democrat Senator from Illinois, assistant majority leader
Rutger Bierman, German jihadi
Gawayne Blessing, White House head butler
Philip Brock, Democratic Congressman from Pennsylvania
Tyler Busby, American billionaire and art collector
Edwina Byington, the president's personal secretary
Arlo Carsten, ex-NASA project manager
Gabriella “Gabbi” Casale, artist, former regional security officer, U.S. Embassy, Paris
Gianni Casale, Gabbi Casale’s brother; owner of the building where she paints
Celsus Crogher, retired Secret Service SAC
Byron DeWitt, Deputy Director of the FBI
Deirdre “Didi” DiMarco, MSNBC news show host
Darren Drucker, American billionaire, art collector, co-founder of ShareAmerica
Carolyn [McGill] Enquist, first wife of Jim McGill
Lars Enquist, Carolyn's second husband
Elvie Fisk, daughter of militia leader Harlan Fisk
Harlan Fisk, commander of The First Michigan Militia
Laurent Fortier/René Simonet, French art thief
Cathryn Gorman, Chief of the Metropolitan Police Department
Patricia Darden Grant, President of the United States, second wife of Jim McGill
Andrew Hudson Grant (deceased), philanthropist, the president’s first husband
Jeremiah Haskins, Director of the FBI
Langston Hobart, Yves Pruet’s American cousin
Sen. Howard Hurlbert, founder of True South Party
Sissy & Emory Jenkins, Putnam Shady’s foster parents
LuAnne Jenkins (deceased), daughter of Sissy & Emory
Bahir Ben Kalil, personal physician to the Jordanian ambassador to the U.S.
[SAC] Elspeth Kendry, head of the Presidential Protection Detail
Sheryl Kimbrough, Republican elector from Indiana
Duvessa Kinsale, New York art gallery owner
Donald "Deke" Ky, Jim McGill's personal bodyguard
Gaspar Lambert, archivist of the Musée d’Orsay, Paris
Leo Levy, Jim McGill's personal driver
Charles Louvel, Pruet family employee
Père Louvel, French cleric, brother of Charles Louvel
Craig MacLaren, Chief Justice of the U.S. Supreme Court
Louis Marra, NYPD Detective
Jim McGill, president’s husband, aka The President’s Henchman
Abbie McGill, oldest child of Jim McGill and Carolyn Enquist
Caitie McGill, youngest child of Jim McGill and Carolyn Enquist
Kenny McGill, middle child of Jim McGill and Carolyn Enquist
Tommy Meeker, regional security officer U.S. Embassy, Paris, friend of Gabbi
Bob Merriman, Senator [D, OR]
Roger Michaelson, (formerly Senator D-OR) Patti's foremost political nemesis
Galia Mindel, White House chief of staff
Dikran "Dikki" Missirian, McGill's business landlord
Alison Monahan, acting chairwoman of the Grant Foundation
Jean Morrissey, Vice President of the U.S.
Desmond Edward Mulchrone (deceased) brother of George Mulchrone
George Mulchrone, retired Catholic priest
David Nathan, Director of the Secret Service
Mark Naughton, personal friend of Jean Morrissey, headmaster of Cameron School
Artemus Nicolaides, White House physician
Stephen Norwood, White House deputy chief of staff
Merilee Parker, former press secretary for Senator Howard Hurlbert, Galia’s spy
Peter Profitt, Speaker of the House
Augustin Pruet, Yves Pruet’s father
Yves Pruet, French investigating magistrate
Nathaniel Ranson, American high tech billionaire, art collector
Joan Renshaw, director of The Andrew Hudson Grant Foundation
Osgood Riddick, FBI special agent on art crime team
Odo Sacripant, Yves Pruet's Corsican bodyguard
Putnam Shady, head lobbyist of ShareAmerica, Sweetie's husband
Maxine “Maxi” Shady, orphan daughter of Putnam’s brother, Lawton, and LuAnne Jenkins
Margaret "Sweetie" Sweeney, McGill's longtime friend and police partner; Putnam’s wife
General Amos Stokes, Commander of the Military District of Washington
John Wexford, Democratic Senator from Michigan, majority leader of the Senate
Ethan Winger, art prodigy and art forgery analyst
Mather Wyman, Political consultant, the president’s first VP, Kira’s uncle
Kira Fahey Yates, Political consultant, Welborn Yates' wife, Mather Wyman's niece
Welborn Yates, the president
’s personal (official) investigator, Air Force captain
The Devil on the Doorstep
by
Joseph Flynn
Chapter 1
West Front of the United States Capitol
Patricia Darden Grant, President of the United States of America, placed her left hand on the Bible held by her husband, James J. McGill, and raised her right hand. Chief Justice Craig MacLaren also raised his right hand and intoned the first words of the presidential oath of office. The president began to repeat the oath as an estimated eight hundred thousand of her fellow Americans standing on the National Mall beyond the Reflecting Pool, looked on, many of them booing and jeering.
More than another hundred million Americans were watching on domestic television. That number was exceeded by those around the world viewing the event on international broadcasts and streaming Internet feeds. The president, sparing one glance at McGill, looked at no one except the chief justice.
She said, “I, Patricia Darden Grant, do solemnly swear …”
Suburban Virginia
Minutes earlier, three miles south of the Capitol, two hands opened an upstairs window at the rear of an expensive but unremarkable tract house. A buzzing sound began and a UAV — unmanned aerial vehicle — flew out of the house and into the overcast sky. The device had the wingspan of a red-tailed hawk. The finish of the UAV was a mottled blue-gray. It all but disappeared against the backdrop of the sky. The soft buzz of its propeller was inaudible at a distance of a hundred feet.
The tiny aircraft banked to the north at near-rooftop level and set a course for the U.S. Capitol.
Suburban Maryland
The location of the Multi-Agency Communications Center was secret. The men and women who worked at MACC were responsible for the safety of everyone attending the presidential inauguration, first and foremost the president and her husband. The pecking order of the lives to be preserved, after those of the First Couple and the vice president, was also kept confidential.
The foursome in charge of coordinating the protective efforts consisted of: Major General Amos Stokes, Commander of the Military District of Washington; David Nathan, Director of the Secret Service; Byron DeWitt, Deputy Director of the FBI; Cathryn Gorman, Chief of the Metropolitan Police Department.
The three men at the top of the food chain fastened their eyes on the monitor showing the president taking her oath of office for the second time in two days. The official oath had been sworn yesterday in the White House on January 20th as prescribed by the Constitution. The public ceremony was just for show.
Chief Gorman was the one who noticed the skirmish start on the fringes of the huge crowd. Thousands of people who thought Patricia Darden Grant had stolen the election were no longer content to shout their objections. They pushed forward in the direction of the Capitol as if they hoped to prevent the public swearing in.
The police and the military had been warned of such a possibility. They stood at the ready to restrain such a charge. Only the protestors didn’t reach the lines of uniformed resistance. Other members of the crowd, partisans of the president, pushed back against the protestors, keeping them on the far side of the Reflecting Pool. Within seconds, blood was being spilled as the largest brawl in the nation’s history began.
Men, women and even adolescents threw punches, kicked one another and wrestled each other to the ground. In places where one combatant was clearly getting the better of another, he or she was quickly swarmed under by a group of the opposition. A terrible cacophony — shrieks of panic, curses and battle-cries — filled the air.
Chief Gorman yelled to her people on the scene, “Go, go, go!”
General Stokes ordered his soldiers, “Reinforce the police. Contain the situation.”
Secret Service Director Nathan told SAC Elspeth Kendry, standing near the president, “Be ready. Get Holly G. and Holmes out of there on my word.”
Only FBI Deputy Director Byron DeWitt refrained from issuing any directive.
He wondered if the melee might be a diversion.
Washington, DC
The UAV flew barely twenty feet above the roof where a Secret Service counter-sniper perched, trying not to be distracted by the riot taking place in the foreground of his vision. The cops and the soldiers were far from restoring order. If anything, the wave of violence rolled closer to the Capitol where the president and a large part of the federal government’s elite remained in place.
The counter-sniper looked up when he heard the buzz of the UAV.
Nobody had said anything to him about the security forces using drones.
That left only one conclusion for him to draw: assassination attempt.
“Bogie, bogie, bogie!” he yelled into his microphone.
He gave the position, bearing and description of the small aircraft.
The UAV had moved hundreds of yards past his position by now, but he lined it up in his scope and took his shot, just as the damn thing began taking evasive maneuvers. The shot missed. He tried again, but the damn thing kept diving, climbing, juking one way and another.
All the while, though, it made forward progress.
The sniper kept repeating, “Bogie, bogie, bogie!”
He felt a chill go through him.
Holly G., Holmes and the chief justice were still standing in place.
Jesus Christ, he thought, they should be running for cover by now.
West Front United States Capitol
The president said, “… I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States and will to the best of my ability preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States, so help me God.”
The words were no sooner out of her mouth than a cluster of Secret Service agents grabbed her, Holmes and the chief justice and rushed them toward the nearby entrance to the Capitol. Forward progress came to an abrupt, stumbling halt when the chief justice tripped as he started up the stairway to the arched doorway. He took two agents down with him.
The crowd of dignitaries who had sat in the VIP section watching the inauguration tried to make their escape and slammed into the pile of bodies clogging the staircase. Secret Service agents shoved people aside as they tried to clear a path for the president.
SAC Elspeth Kendry pointed a finger at the sky and yelled, “There it is!”
No order to open fire was necessary.
Other agents also spotted the UAV and opened up with a ferocious barrage of automatic weapons fire. Their shots missed as the small aircraft was still executing evasive movements. Several of their rounds ended up killing spectators in the now hysterical crowd. The gunfire added to the panic on the West Front of the Capitol as Washington’s governing class did their wailing best to escape the madness.
The sheer volume of the defensive fusillade finally hit the UAV, and it exploded with a bang hugely disproportionate to its size. The shock wave cut down those closest to the blast like a scythe. Still more were wounded by bits of shrapnel.
Holly G. and Holmes were unhurt and back on their feet. They were no more than ten meters from the entrance to the Capitol. The Secret Service had cleared a path for them.
They didn’t make it.
A second mini-drone, launched from the north, found them in the open.
It had flown by propeller power up to that point.
Then a rocket motor ignited and the drone streaked toward its target.
Moving far too fast for the Secret Service to shoot it down.
The president and McGill barely had time to look up and see the end coming.
Everyone within a fifty-meter radius was killed.
Chapter 2
The White House — McGill’s Hideaway — Monday, January 7, 2013
James J. McGill, husband of the president, father of three, former chief of police, current private investigator, friend to many and foe of others sat in his White House lair for his official p
ortrait. The pose was a three-quarter turn to McGill’s right, seen from mid-torso to the crown of his head. Working on McGill’s likeness in oils on canvas was Gabriella “Gabbi” Casale.
By way of preparation, she had taken photographs, done sketches and executed an underpainting on the canvas.
The artist, an honors graduate of the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, a CIA dropout and a former regional security officer for the United States Department of State, had almost died under a bridge in Paris with McGill as they and three others had battled a gargantuan killer known as The Undertaker.
McGill had seen several of Gabbi’s paintings and been impressed by them before that eventful night. Later, visiting Gabbi as she lay recovering in a Paris hospital, McGill had committed to having her do his official portrait. As the nation’s first male presidential spouse, he thought he should set the bar high for those who might follow him.
Gabbi’s first question, after arriving in Washington, was, “Which do you think is your better side?”
McGill shrugged. “Six of one, half-a-dozen of the other.”
“Your face is fairly symmetrical,” she agreed. “That’s a common standard for good looks.”
“Me and Rory Calhoun,” McGill said.
The old-time movie star McGill thought he resembled. Gabbi had gone to the trouble of searching out pictures of the actor. There was some basis for comparison, but she thought McGill had more intelligence in his eyes, and just a touch of menace, too. She’d come to see that after he’d suggested they fight a giant armed with only sticks.
“But we don’t want common, do we?” Gabbi asked.
“There might be a lot of people looking at this painting over the years,” McGill said. “Better do something to hold the public interest.”
They settled on the three-quarters pose.
“A majority of sunny Jim,” Gabbi said, “with just a shadowed hint of trouble waiting around the corner for those who deserve it.”