Call to Duty Read Online Free PDF Page B

Heather. He grabbed her by the hair and bent her over the table. “Do you know who I am?” Heather shouted. The men laughed as the old man shed his pants. “My father is a United States senator!” There was no sign that they understood a word she said. “Senator William Douglas Courtland!” she shouted. Again, no sign of comprehension. And then in a low,pleading moan, “He’s going to be President of the United States.”
    The old man paused. “I speak English.” He grinned at the other men and buried a hand in her hair, holding her over the table, while his other hand stroked her bare back. Then he felt lower and spread the cheeks of her rear end. He barked in amazement when he saw Heather’s tattoo and called the other men over to examine it. They were fascinated by the small snake that had been tattooed on the inside of her cheeks, coiled around her anus. The old man raped her while Troy, Nikki, and DC were dragged to the forward staterooms. Heather clenched the far edge of the table, making herself endure the violation. She forced herself to think about surviving and tried to shut out the sounds of the other three being raped. I know how to survive, she kept repeating to herself. I know how to survive….
    Tears streamed down her face. Then the men switched.
    An hour later, the three girls and Troy were thrown naked into the fishing boat next to Ricky. They watched as the beautiful sloop was torched, a beacon lighting the night. A small plane flew over and circled before heading back to land. One of the pirates started the engine and pointed the fishing boat in the same direction.

ONE
    The White House, Washington, D.
    It was the woman’s first solo shift as the night duty officer in the Office of the President and the communications section had hummed with its normal nighttime routine, lulling her into a sense of complacency. The phone call from her counterpart in the State Department had jolted her fully awake. “Sally,” the veteran bureaucrat said, his voice coming through scratchy on the secure line, “a hot one just came in. The Bangkok embassy reports that Senator Courtland’s daughter has been kidnapped.”
    The woman’s fingers flew over the computer keyboard at her desk as she recorded the details of the phone call for future correlation and reference. When the caller had hung up, she replayed the tape, making sure she had all the details correct. Then she told a technician to transcribe the tape immediately into hard copy. Her lips compressed into a narrow line as she stared at the clock: 3:32 A.M. Then she made her decision—they should wake the President of the United States with the news. But she first had to check with her boss, the President’s chief of staff. Leo Cox answered the phone on the second ring, listened without comment and gave her the okay. Her hand was steady when she jabbed at the buttons on her communications panel to call the President’s valet.
    Matthew Zachary Pontowski opened the door that led to the small office off the President’s bedroom and walked in. A simple dark blue robe covered his lanky six feet and he was carrying his glasses. His blue eyes were clear and his full head of silver-gray hair was only slightly ruffled. As usual, he walked with a slight hunch to his shoulders and a definite limp, a legacy from World War II. His prominent, aquilinenose reminded the woman of a hawk but his face was not harsh. The laugh lines at the corners of his eyes promised warmth and understanding. He looked and acted ten years younger than seventy-six years of age.
    “Well, Sally,” he began. “Charles says you have something important.”
    She could hear friendliness in his voice and relaxed. “Yes, sir, I think so.” She handed him a transcript of the phone call from the State Department. He sat down at his desk and adjusted his glasses. Zack Pontowski could read at over twelve hundred words a minute, faster than a person could talk. He preferred to read and to ask