The Missionaries- Novel by Einsjam

21:00 Hrs.

Washington DC.  White House: The Rose Garden,

Agent Bryan McNamara was patrolling the Rose Garden in the White House. It was a pleasant evening. Mid November. Cold, but that’s the way he liked Washington DC. The cold reminded him of his hometown of Talkeetna, Alaska. It was a simple town, whose ceremonial mayor was a cat named Stubbs.

 The chilly wind felt good on his freshly shaved face. He paced around the garden listening to any noise, keeping a look out for anything out of the ordinary. He had an 8 hour shift today. Larry Schwartzman was supposed to patrol the premises and he Bryan would have been watching the Red Wings game with his beloved Katie. 

He walked further reaching a lamppost bathing him in an orange light. The White House building behind him. Suddenly he heard a whooshing noise, behind him. He turned to look around quickly, his eyes scanning for the source of the noise. 

The leaves of the trees were gently rustling, ahead he saw the shadow of a man walking with his dog. ‘Jose Rivera’, he thought, recognizing the figure. Everything looked normal. ‘Must be a gust of wind' he thought. He checked his watch’. 21:01 Hrs. 

He turned back and started walking when suddenly a panicked voice crackled on his earpiece. “Code Red, Code Red, The Devil is gone. I repeat the…… The Devil is gone’. McNamara felt the ground beneath his boots slip. The Devil was not in the house. A second later his sense started to trickle in. The Devil must be in any of the House’s 132 rooms. But they wouldn’t have put it out if they weren’t completely sure if the Devil was not there. It just couldn’t be.

He ran towards the building, reaching the famous columns he met Agent Jackson who was about to dash inside. ‘Hey Jack, what’s happening?’ 

‘They say The Devil is missing’, Jackson replied panting, it seemed that he had run a distance.

‘Has anybody run a thorough check?’ McNamara inquired.

‘Yeah they have’ and Agent Jackson sprinted away into the House.

His earpiece crackled again,’ The Devil has been found. His head is missing’.

Now, McNamara really felt his the ground underneath him tremble and shake. He ran into the House following another agent whom he recognized as Eric Smithfield. 

‘Hey Eric, You sure it’s not some freak exercise bullshit by the command? Cause’ if it aint, we are fucked’. McNamara said to Smithfield while running.

‘ No, this is happening, a shit tsunami is about to kick in’ said Smithfield in dread laced tones, while running towards the White House Movie Theatre, where the voice inside Smithfield’s earpiece was directing him towards. 

McNamara followed Smithfield and entered the movie theatre and a horrific sight greeted him. On the roof there was perfect circular hole through which the night sky was visible and directly underneath it was the headless of body a well-built tall man in red striped pajamas. The body lay spread eagled, while stump of the neck oozed out blood.  

5 other agents were busy scanning the whole place while 2 stood guard over the body.

The murder had happened just now, the terrorist must be here somewhere, McNamara thought, while still grasping the fact that The Devil was lying in front of him, dead. While Smithfield looked at the body horrorstruck. 

McNamara could now hear the alarms howling around him, hundreds of feet thumping the floors, dog barks, shouts, and a lone scream. 

Agents and security guards were fanning around the White House, helicopters were circling the building shining powerful beams on the House and its surroundings. 

McNamara looked at the body. The Devil was a good man, he thought. He cared for his family, went to the church, and always appeared humble. Managing a laugh even if his approval ratings were down. These days it was going slowly back up because of his intervention in Pakistan, where he had decided to carpet bomb a whole city, whose name McNamara couldn’t even pronounce, but it started with a P. He was a witty fellow who had played so dirty tricks on his opponents, that when the time to give him a codename came, he was named as The Devil. It was a no-brainer as far as McNamara was concerned.

And now, The Devil lay lifeless and headless in front of him. He thought about the mysterious whooshing sound he heard. He looked at the enigmatic hole in the roof that had been precisely cut in a circular shape. 

One thing, however was crushingly clear to Bryan McNamara. Joseph Reid codenamed The Devil, President of the United States of America had just been brutally murdered.