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no longer with the Secret
Service, killing the president would be all but impossible, but where there was
life, there was hope. And if he retained his freedom, maybe he could find
enough evidence, after all, for the world to know what this man really was. As
long as he had breath in his body he would use it to try to bring this
psychopath down.
    “What’s going on Kevin?” said Coffey. “Why are you doing
this?”
    “Because Matthew Davinroy needs to die!” he hissed. “Because
five weeks ago, he tortured and killed my wife! Leaving my unborn child to die
horribly within her! That’s why! ” he
screamed, foaming at the mouth. “Davinroy, you sick abomination, your drug
failed, and I remember. You won’t get away with what you did to Nicole. I’ll
make sure the world knows what you’ve done—who you are.”
    Quinn turned back to Coffey. “No more explaining! I need David
Garza and a pair of car keys. Now !”
he thundered.
    Davinroy and his wife were still on the ground behind Coffey
and a wall of other agents, but the president spoke for the first time,
whispering so that only Coffey could hear, having no idea that Quinn had
arranged for his earpiece to receive the president’s every word. “For God’s
sake, Cris, let him leave. He’s dangerous and unstable. And utterly
delusional.”
    “And then some,” Coffey whispered back.
    Quinn’s boss quickly turned to face David Garza. “Mr. Garza,
I’m afraid I need to ask you to do what he says. We don’t have any other
choice.”
    “Damn right you don’t!” shouted Quinn.
    Garza took a deep breath, looking distinctly ill. He nodded
at Quinn. “Follow me,” he managed to croak out, motioning in the opposite
direction. “The garage is this way.”
    “Everyone needs to clear a path!” shouted Quinn. “Anyone
gets within ten feet of me and I detonate! Anyone follows us to the garage, I
detonate! Understood?”
    In answer, any number of guests who were between Quinn and
Garza, and between Garza and the route to his garage, moved rapidly to either
side, a human reenactment of Moses’s parting of the Red Sea.
    Quinn turned to his former boss one last time. “Cris, I
don’t want anyone hurt,” he said almost pleadingly. “So don’t let anyone follow
me when I leave this place. I contingency-planned the shit out of this,” he added,
knowing that only his incompetence had prevented this bluff from being true. “I
have an escape route ready to go, and it’s heavily booby trapped.”  
    Quinn thought this would work, would buy him time. After
all, once he left, the president and First Lady were safe, which was Coffey’s
only concern. A hot pursuit of a man they knew was highly skilled, and one they
believed to be insane, could be dangerous, not only for the agents involved but
innocent bystanders along the way. Besides, Coffey was sure to think that with
all of the resources at his disposal Quinn would be apprehended in record time,
without need of a high-speed chase. Within fifteen minutes the military might
of the entire nation would be blanketing Princeton like a swarm of locusts.
    Quinn had watched Coffey’s face during his exchange with the
president, and he had seen his absolute certainty that Quinn had gone mad. He was
shocked to see that Coffey didn’t believe his accusations against the president
were worth considering for even an instant, under any circumstances.
    This showed Quinn exactly what he would be up against. Coffey
knew him well, and knew he would never make such an accusation if it wasn’t
true. And Coffey was as open-minded to wild possibilities as anyone he had ever
met.
    And yet Quinn was certain the man had put zero credence into
what he had said.
      Garza led Quinn and
his imaginary C4 vest and detonator into the garage without incident. More a
showroom than garage, the structure was cleaner and more sparkling than some of
the finest kitchens, and was immense, currently housing ten vehicles without
fear of any