Black Friday by James Patterson Read Free Book Online Page A

formality, not seeming to notice the duck at all. Nothing even close to a smile crossed his pale, thin lips.
    “Sorry to bother you, to trouble you like this at home. I need you to get dressed and come with me, Mr. Carroll. The President wants to see you
tonight.”

Chapter 12
    AS EARLY AS the hot and steamy summer of 1961, John Kennedy had confided to close advisers that the stressful work of the presidency had already aged him ten years.
    As he hurried down the plush, half-darkened corridors on the second floor of the White House, Justin Kearney, the forty-first President of the United States, was realizing the same inescapable truth that Kennedy had put into words. He had begun recently to question the motives that had driven him to gain his present residence at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.
    Kearney was only forty-two years of age; by one month, he was the youngest American President ever elected and the first Viet Nam War veteran to reach the White House.
    At 1:50 on Saturday morning, President Kearney took what he hoped would be a calming breath, then he entered; the National Security Council conference room. Those already gathered there rose respectfully, Archer Carroll among them.
    Carroll watched the President of the United States take his customary place at the head of the heavy oak conference table. He’d never seen Kearney so nervous, so clearly uncomfortable during any of his three previous visits to the White House.
    “First of all, I thank all of you for getting here on such very short notice.” The President sloughed off his wrinkled navy blue suit coat.
    “I think everyone knows everyone else. One, maybe two exceptions … down there, sitting between Bill Whittier and Morton Atwater, is Caitlin Dillon. Caitlin is the Chief Enforcement Officer for the SEC.
    “Down at the far
right
corner, gentleman in the tan corduroy sport coat, is Arch Carroll. Mr. Carroll is the head of the DIA’s antiterrorist division. This is the group that was created following Munich and Lod.” The President licked his lips nervously, then he gazed around the assembly.
    Commissioner Michael Kane from the New York Police Department was asked to report first.
    “Right now, we have men down inside the rubble of all the buildings that were bit. We have explosive-arson squads underground. They’ve already reported that Number 30 Wall as well as the Fed ate badly damaged and extremely dangerous. Either building could collapse tonight.”
    Claude Williams of the Army Engineers was called to speak next. “There’s a disturbing attention to detail in every area—that’s what is particularly frightening about this. The river pier, the initial setup with the FBI, the elaborate study of Wall Street itself. I’ve never seen anything like this, and I’ll tell you, I’m not standing here exaggerating for effect. It’s as if a well-organized Army hit Wall Street. It’s as if a war’s been started down there.”
    Walter Trentkamp from the FBI was asked to go next. Trentkamp had been an old friend of Arch Carroll’s father. He’d even helped talk the younger Carroll into his first police job. Carroll leaned forward to listen to Walter’s report.
    “I agree with Mike Kane,” Trentkamp said in a gravelly, imposing voice. “Everything has the veneer of an expert paramilitary operation. The explosives on Wall Street were placed for maximum damage. Our ordnance boys actually seem to admire the bastards. The whole operation was very thoughtfully devised.
    “The plan must have taken months,
maybe years
to develop and execute with this high a level of success. PLO? IRA? Red Brigade? I assume we’ll know more on that score before too long. They
have
to contact us eventually. They must want something. Nobody goes to this extreme without having some kind of demand in mind.”
    Each of those present was called upon to give a report, from the Secretary of Defense to the SEC Representative Caitlin Dillon. They all spoke briefly. Although