Bluebird Down

Chapter Two

Elizabeth

"Russell. What's going on?" Elizabeth strode through the corridors of the White House. The lights and paintings and mahogany furniture streamed past her, no more than a blur, like the haze around a car speeding along an autobahn, as she headed straight for the Situation Room.

Russell was pacing outside, his phone pressed to his ear, but he spun round at her voice and stuffed the phone back into his jacket pocket. "Where the hell have you been? We thought—" He drew in a deep breath and ran one hand over his head. "We're getting reports of gunfire on the seventh floor. The building's being evacuated..."

Gunfire. Adrenaline twitched through her bloodstream. "Is anyone hurt?...My staff...?"

Russell's gaze lowered, and he gripped the back of his neck as he shook his head. "Not known yet, but the situation's fluid."

Her breath bound her chest. Henry slid his hand into hers and squeezed, but it barely registered, her fingers numb. "Our children?" The words snagged in her throat and sounded foreign as they stumbled from her tongue.

"Secret Service agents are with them," Russell said. "Stevie's in my office. The other two will be taken down to the bunker as soon as they arrive."

Thank God. Elizabeth's eyes slipped shut. Henry pulled her close, and she rested her forehead against his shoulder, his warmth suffusing her as his fingers fluttered against the small of her back.

"Henry—" Russell began.

"I'll meet them there." Henry kissed the top of Elizabeth's head and then squeezed her arms before taking a step away.

"Actually," Russell said, "POTUS wants you to stick around, at least until we know what it is that we're dealing with."

Elizabeth and Henry shared a look. What exactly did they think they were dealing with?

Russell leant his weight into the Situation Room door. He raised his eyebrows a fraction. "Shall we?"

***

The door swung open, and the buzz of voices and the fug of perfume, cologne and sweat that stuffed the dimly lit room hit Elizabeth. She squeezed into the gap next to Conrad's seat at the head of the table, her fingers still laced through Henry's.

Conrad looked up at her and gave her a nod. The pinch in his brow relaxed a little. "Elizabeth. It goes without saying, but I'm glad to see that you're safe. When they said shots on the seventh floor..." His lips tensed.

Henry's grip on her hand tightened.

"Do we know what's happened?" she asked.

People flurried around the edge of the room, a medley of suits and uniforms as they ducked and darted, whisking notes and swift whispers between those congregated around the table. Ellen Hill, Ephraim Ware, Hugh Haymond, Keith Doherty, Oliver Shaw, Ronnie Baker, and countless more. Live footage from the front of the State Department popped up on the screen on the far wall.

"Director Doherty," Conrad said, "any update?"

"The State Department's been evacuated," Doherty said, "but it'll take a while to confirm numbers and to work out if anyone's still inside."

"And the computer system?"

"It does appear that it's being controlled by an external source, as we suspected."

Elizabeth frowned. "What? Like a cyber attack?"

"Yes, ma'am," Oliver Shaw said. He looked up from his laptop screen and swivelled round to face Elizabeth. His gaze jumped back and forth between her and Conrad. "The security systems were deactivated shortly after twelve PM, and all CCTV footage from this morning has been wiped. We also know from the reports of employees on the lower floors that the sprinkler and alarm systems were tampered with. And the lifts are no longer working."