Domino Effect (2019 Edition)

contact with them?”
“Yes, Mr. President. I spoke to her mother, Aria LaBarbara and her father, Dominic Russo. It seems they both received the same message you did. Russo said he and his ex-wife would be catching the first flight to D.C. from Catanzaro, Italy. He also left a phone number for you to contact them.”
“I’ll call them as soon as I’ve finished this meeting.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Smitty, I want hourly briefings around the clock.”
“Affirmative.”
Frank watched President Lancaster disconnect the call and turn his attention to him and the other two men. The president handed them each a dossier. Frank couldn’t help but notice how light it was. “I want you to review the information we have, and I want a plan from each of you by noon. You’re dismissed.”
Frank pretended to look through his dossier while he waited for Joe and Tyler to leave. Once the door to the Oval Office clicked shut, he closed the folder and spoke.
“May I speak, man to man?”
“Frank, we’ve known each other since we went through the academy together. If anyone can speak to me informally, it’s you.”
With a quick arch of the brow, Frank flashed a slight, uneven grin towards the president. “I know how thorough you are; therefore, I know when Smitty said you gave your daughter some independence in her movements, you still had her under surveillance.”
The president brushed his hand through his graying buzz-cut. “What are you getting at, Frank?”
“How did her team lose Becca?”
The president breathed deep and exhaled through puffed-out cheeks as he leaned back against the Resolute desk. Frank watched as President Lancaster picked up his copy of the dossier and flipped through the scant pages. Closing it, he looked up, steely-eyed, more like his old self, and chin-pointed towards the door.
Frank followed the president, neither saying a word, as Lancaster made his way from the Oval Office, down the hall towards the Chief of Staff’s office. At the end of the hall, a Secret Service agent was waiting. As soon as the president stepped in front of him, the agent pressed a button on the wall behind him, opening an elevator door which blended in with the wallpaper.
Frank followed the president inside, but before the agent could join them, Lancaster waved him off never saying a word. Once the door closed, Frank watched the man who was not just a friend but also the leader of the free world, slump back against the steel wall and nod his chin. “It’s safe to talk,” the president said.
“What the hell is going on, Nathan?”
The door opened into the Situation Room before the president could answer. They walked through the Administrative Office and into the conference room, where the president closed the door ordering those in the AO not to bother him unless it was an emergency.
Frank noticed that all the video screens contained live shots from Key West as well as the Dartmouth campus. From the corner of his eye, he witnessed the president take a short, forlorned look at the screens before taking a seat. Frank followed suit, staring at his friend and Commander in Chief, waiting for an explanation.
“I didn’t put everything in the dossier.”
“I figured as much,” Frank said. “What’d you leave out?”
“A text message from Becca’s phone.”
“Another one besides the first letting you know she’d been kidnapped?”
“Yes.”
“Why all the secrecy? I’m sure the message was captured by your security team.”
Lancaster shook his head. “After Janie died, I promised Becca we’d keep as much of our personal lives private as possible . . . from everyone, including my own people.”
“Why?”
“Hhh,” Lancaster sighed. “Those first few months were tough on both of us, but especially Becca. She was tired of everyone on the inside looking at her like they knew all her secrets.”
“Because they did,” Frank interrupted.
“Yeah, because they did. So, two years ago, I started giving Becca throwaways paired with a supply I kept, myself. They were only to be used when she needed to speak to me about her most personal feelings, you know, stuff she didn’t want anyone else to know.”
“Like her feelings and thoughts about her mom.”
Frank watched Lancaster lean forward and rest on his elbows. “Yeah, it was mostly her talking about Janie, or just wanting to vent. She knows the importance of national security and always having a paper trail, so she never abused the privilege. She doesn’t use them often; in fact, the entire time she’s been at Dartmouth this year, she’s never called me on a throwaway—”
“Until last night.” Frank said, finishing his friend’s thought.
President Lancaster nodded with his eyes. “Yes, until last night. But the text wasn’t from her, it was from the son-of-a-bitch who took her.”
Frank was about to ask what was said when the president slid a phone across the table. Cradling the phone in his hand, Frank brought up its messages and read the text.
“You’ll receive instructions as to our demands. If you want your daughter unhurt and returned alive, you won’t involve any of the intelligence agencies. If we see or even think we see any involvement, we’ll return her in pieces.”
Without looking up from the phone, Frank asked, “Did you respond?”
“Of course, I did. I asked for proof that she was alive and unhurt. If you scroll down, you’ll see a video.” Lancaster’s voice seemed to catch as he finished the sentence.
Frank scrolled. His mouth dried up in an instant, as if he’d stuck his head in an oven, when he saw the static image of Becca tied to a chair. Touching play, the video zoomed in. Becca wore a pair of ripped jeans and a Dartmouth t-shirt, dirty and torn. She looked like there had been a struggle. Her shoes missing, her feet filthy. Her arms stretched and tied over her head, her ankles strapped to the legs of the chair. Blindfolded and gagged, her makeup smeared, she looked scared to death. A computer enhanced voice said, “Say hi to Daddy, Princess.” Frank could see Becca’s posture tighten; she shook her head side-to-side,