Agent Reddin glanced again at the probable President-to-be, and wondered what he was thinking.
Adam Warner’s mind was on the ordeal that was confronting him. He had been informed by Di Silva that Jennifer Parker had been arrested. The thought of her being locked away like an animal was anathema to him. His mind kept returning to the wonderful moments they had shared together. He had loved Jennifer as he had never loved another woman.
One of the secret service men in the front seat was saying, “We should be arriving in Atlantic City right on schedule, Mr. President.”
Mr. President. That phrase again. According to all the latest polls, he was far ahead. He was the country’s new folk hero, and Adam knew it was due in no small measure to the crime investigation he had headed, the investigation that would destroy Jennifer Parker.
Adam glanced up and saw that they were approaching the twin bridges. There was a side road just before the bridge and a huge semitrailer truck was stopped at the entrance on the opposite side of the road. As the limousine neared the bridge, the truck started to pull out, so that the two vehicles arrived at the bridge at the same time.
The secret service driver applied his brakes and slowed down. “Look at that idiot.”
The shortwave radio crackled into life. “Beacon One! Come in, Beacon One!”
The agent in the front seat next to the driver picked up the transmitter. “This is Beacon One.”
The large truck was abreast of the limousine now as it started across the span. It was a behemoth, completely blocking out the view on the driver’s side of the car. The limousine driver started to speed up to get ahead of it, but the truck simultaneously increased its speed.
“What the hell does he think he’s doing?” the driver muttered.
“We’ve had an urgent call from the District Attorney’s office. Fox One is in danger! Do you read me?”
Without warning, the truck veered to the right, hitting the side of the limousine, forcing it against the bridge railing. In seconds, the three secret service men in the car had their guns out.
“Get down!”
Adam found himself pushed down onto the floor, while Agent Reddin shielded Adam’s body. The secret service agents rolled down the windows on the left side of the limousine, guns pointed. There was nothing at which to shoot. The side of the huge semitrailer blotted out everything. The driver was up ahead, out of sight. There was another jolt and a grinding crash as the limousine was knocked into the railing again. The driver swung the wheel to the left, fighting to keep the car on the bridge, but the truck kept forcing him back. The cold Raritan River swirled two hundred feet below them.
The secret service agent next to the driver had grabbed his radio microphone and was calling wildly into it, “This is Beacon One! Mayday! Mayday! Come in all units!”
But everyone in the limousine knew that it was too late for anyone to save them. The driver tried to stop the car, but the truck’s huge fenders were locked into it, sweeping the limousine along. It was only a matter of seconds before the huge truck would edge them over the side of the bridge. The agent driving the car tried evasive tactics, alternately using the brake and the accelerator to slow down and speed up, but the truck had the car cruelly pinned against the bridge railing. There was no room for the car to maneuver. The truck blocked off any escape on the left side, and on the right side the limousine was being pushed against the iron railing of the bridge. The agent fought the wheel desperately as the truck pressed hard into the limousine once again, and everyone in the car could feel the bridge railing start to give way.
The truck was jamming harder now, forcing the limousine over the side. Those in the car could feel the sudden list as the front wheels broke through the railing and went over the edge of the bridge. The car was teetering on the brink and each man, in his own way, prepared to die.
Adam felt no fear, only an ineffable sadness at the loss, the waste. It was Jennifer he should have shared his life with, had children with—and suddenly Adam knew, from somewhere deep within himself, that they had had a child.
The limousine gave another lurch and Adam cried out once aloud at the injustice of what had happened, what was happening.
From overhead came the roar of two police helicopters as they swooped down out of the sky, and a moment later there was the sound of machine guns. The semitrailer lurched and all motion suddenly stopped. Adam and the others could hear the helicopters circling overhead. The men remained motionless, knowing that the slightest movement could send the car over the bridge, into the waters below.
There was the distant scream of police sirens drawing nearer, and a few minutes later the sound of voices barking out commands. The engine of the truck roared into life again. Slowly, carefully, the truck moved, inching away from the trapped car, removing the pressure against it. The limousine tilted for one terrible instant, and then was still. A moment later, the truck had been backed out of the way and Adam and the others could see out of the left-hand windows.
There were half a dozen squad cars and uniformed policemen with drawn guns swarming over the bridge.
A police captain was at the side of the battered car.
“We’ll never get the doors open,” he said. “We’re going to bring you out through the windows—real easy.”
Adam was lifted out of the window first, slowly and carefully, so as not to upset the balance of the car and send it over the side. The three secret service men were next.
When all the men had been removed from the car, the police captain turned to Adam and asked, “Are you all right, sir?”
Adam turned to look at the car hanging over the edge of the bridge, and then at the dark water of the river far below.