First Family kam-4

by David Baldacci

  "What I want is not to be on this plane going to where we're going."

  "How did he sound on the phone?"

  "Determined. Full of anger and hatred. Can you blame him?"

  "You think he was being straight? I mean, it seems like such a small thing to do in return for, you know…"

  "Would you rather he killed Willa?" she said darkly.

  "That wasn't my point! Don't put words in my mouth."

  A knock at the door interrupted this bickering.

  It was Larry Foster, the protection detail chief. "Sir, the flight crew has our ETA into Huntsville in about one hour and thirty minutes. It's fortunate that they just opened a new runway that'll support an aircraft in this class."

  "Fine, right."

  "And then we are to go on to another location."

  "You were given the coordinates."

  "Yes sir. We have them."

  "Well, is there a problem?"

  "Sir, can I speak frankly?"

  Cox glanced at his wife and then turned back to Foster. "Go ahead," he said tersely.

  "This whole thing is a problem. We have no idea where we're going, or what we'll be confronted with. I'm understaffed on this and don't have even one-quarter of our regular support and equipment. My strong recommendation is that we turn around and head back to D.C."

  "That's impossible."

  "Sir, I'm very strongly recommending that we don't go through with this."

  "I'm the president. I just wanted to go for an unscheduled trip. It's not that big of a deal."

  Foster cleared his throat. His clenched hands evidenced the anger that he was feeling but trying hard not to show. "The other issue is we don't have a motorcade, sir. And the destination in question is about eighty miles southeast of the airport in Huntsville."

  "We have to get there"-Cox checked his watch-"in exactly four hours and seven minutes."

  "I had a C-130 fly ahead of us with two choppers on it. It'll take a little bit of time to get the choppers out and be ready to go."

  "You have the timetable. And we cannot miss that deadline."

  "Sir, if you could just fill me in on what's going on? I know the director has spoken with you and he supports my position, but-"

  Cox pointed a finger at him. "The director serves at my pleasure. I can replace him tomorrow. And I will if I get any more flack from him. I want you to just do what you're told. I am the commander in chief. If you won't do it, then I'll get the damn Army to take over. They won't question my authority."

  Foster stood very straight. "Mr. President, by federal law we provide your principal protection." He glanced at Jane. "Both your protection. What is going on right now is completely unprecedented and potentially very dangerous. We've had no opportunity to check out where we're going. No recon, no threat assessment, no-"

  "Look, Larry," Cox said in a calmer tone. "I know this is all screwed up. I don't want to be doing this either." He motioned in the direction of his wife. "She doesn't want to be here either. But here we are."

  "Does this have to do with your niece?" Larry was asking this of Jane Cox. "If so, I think at the very least the FBI should be informed of what we're doing."

  "We can't do that."

  "But-"

  Cox put a hand on the man's shoulder. "I trust you to protect us, Larry. You'll have time to check things out, as much time as I can give you. I'm not foolhardy. I'm not going to walk into something that will get me killed, much less my wife. It'll be okay."

  Foster said slowly, "All right, sir, but if things look out of whack, I'm pulling the plug. I can exercise that authority, sir. I have it by federal statute."

  "Let's just hope it doesn't come to that."

  After Foster left Jane said, "What if Larry won't let you do what you need to do?"

  "That's not going to happen, Jane."

  "Why not?"

  "I'm still the president. And besides, I've led a charmed life. And my luck has not run out. Not yet."

  Jane looked away. "Don't be too sure," she said.

  He glared at her. "Whose side are you on, anyway?"

  "I've been thinking about that all night now. And I haven't reached a decision yet."

  She left the cabin.

  The president sat behind the desk and prayed that he could hold on just one more time.

  CHAPTER 77

  ARE YOU RUTH ANN?" asked Michelle, her eyes now on the woman and not the weapon.

  "How you know my name?"

  "Momma, they're with the government. They're here about Mr. Sam."

  "You be quiet 'bout Mr. Sam, boy."

  "Ruth Ann," said Sean, "we don't want anyone to get hurt, but we think this Mr. Sam has kidnapped a little girl named Willa Dutton."

  "No he ain't!" Her finger tightened on the trigger.

  "Momma, I saw the name down in the room. And her picture. We saw it on the TV."

  "Hush up, Gabriel. I ain't telling you again."

  "A little girl's life is at stake," said Michelle. "A little girl not much older than Gabriel."

  "Mr. Sam ain't hurting nobody. He ain't like that."

  "Miss Tippi's gone, Momma," said Gabriel.

  Ruth Ann's jaw went slack. "What!"

  "She's not in her room. Mr. Sam took her."

  "Took her where?"

  "Don't know."

  "Ruth Ann, if you let us just look through the house, and we find nothing wrong, we'll leave," said Sean. "All we want to do is find Willa and take her back to her family."

  "That the little girl what her momma got killed?" said Ruth Ann, her grip on the shotgun loosening a bit.

  "That's the one."

  "What Mr. Sam got to do with that? You tell me!"

  "He may have nothing to do with it. And if he doesn't, then nothing happens to him. It's that simple. And if you don't believe he's involved than you shouldn't have a problem with us looking around," said Michelle.

  "Please, Momma, let 'em."

  "Why you so all fired on them doing this, Gabriel?"

  " 'Cause it's the right thing to do. Mr. Sam, he'd say the same thing if he were here."

  Ruth Ann stared at her son for a long moment, then lowered the shotgun and stepped back.

  Sean and Michelle hurried into the foyer of Atlee and stared around.

  "Like stepping back into the past," muttered Sean.

  Michelle had her attention on the woman who trailed them. "Ruth Ann, I'd like you to put that gun down and step away from it. Now." Michelle had her hand on the butt of her pistol.

  "Do it, Momma!" Gabriel had tears in his eyes.

  Ruth Ann did as she was told and Michelle snagged the gun and emptied out the ammo.

  "Gabriel," said Sean. "What's this room you're talking about?"

  They trooped down the stairs to the massive door.

  "I don't have the keys. Mr. Sam has 'em."

  "Step back," said Michelle firmly. They did and she took aim and placed two shots on either side of the lock. Then she holstered her gun, leapt across the space of the hall and leveled a crushing kick right where the lock connected with the doorjamb. It crashed open as Gabriel stared wide-eyed at the woman. Then he glanced over at Sean, who shrugged and smiled.

  "She's always been kind of a show-off," he said.

  They rushed into the room and Gabriel punched the light switch. When Sean and Michelle saw what was on the walls, their mouths gaped. Photos, index cards, written notes on chalkboards, pushpins, string connecting this part and that part.

  Sean said, "Gabriel and Ruth Ann, do you know what any of this means?"

  "No sir," said Ruth Ann.

  "Who would have done all this?" he asked.

  "Mr. Sam," said Gabriel. He added, "I came down here one night when he wasn't around. That's when I saw the picture of that girl, right there."

  He pointed to a section of wall. A moment later Sean and Michelle were staring at a photo of Willa.

  When Sean's gaze swung around the walls he froze on one spot. "Ruth Ann, Gabriel,
you need to wait outside."

  "What?" said Gabriel. "Why?"

  "Outside, right now!"

  He hustled them through the doorway and then closed it, returning to stare at the picture of the woman.

  "Sean, what is it?"

  "You remember me telling you how I met Jane Cox?"

  "Yeah, you brought her drunken senator husband home after you found him in a car with some tramp."

  Sean pointed at the picture. "That's the tramp."

  It was a picture of a younger Diane Wohl.

  Michelle eyeballed the photo. "She was with Cox?"

  Sean nodded. "The name next to the photo says Diane Wohl, but that's not the name she used back then. I mean her first name I think was Diane, but I don't remember Wohl."

  "She might have changed it, or gotten married." She gazed at another spot where a string from Wohl's name intersected with another index card.

  "Diane Wright? That ring any bells?" she read off the card.

  "That's it. That was her name!"

  He pointed to a recent newspaper article pinned next to the photo. It reported the disappearance and presumed kidnapping of Diane Wohl from Georgia.

  "He's got Diane Wright too," said Sean. He pointed to the walls. "This all tells a story, Michelle. Quarry has put all this together."

  She pointed to the far left side of the room. "And I think it starts there."

  At the very beginning of this wall there was written a calendar date from nearly fourteen years ago.

  Michelle read the four words written next to the date. "He raped me, Daddy."

  Beside it was the name Tippi Quarry and next to that was a photo of Tippi in her hospital bed hooked up to life support. She turned to look at Sean. Her expression of panic was matched by his.

  "Sean, I'm starting to get sick to my stomach."

  "Just keep going, Michelle. We have to keep going."

  They started following the story around the walls in the basement at Atlee.

  When they had finished one entire wall Michelle said quietly, "He raped her. Then they got her to have a back-alley abortion. The First Lady was involved."

  "She nearly bled out and ended up in a coma," added Sean in a hollow voice.

  "But if Cox raped her why didn't she report it to the police?" asked Sean.

  "Maybe someone convinced her not to. Like Jane Cox. She's good at controlling people."

  "But how does Willa tie into this?"

  They went to the wall where Willa's picture was. It was unnerving to see the missing little girl smiling at them in this room with its tale of misery spelled out so sharply in chalk and index cards.

  As they followed this line of Quarry's investigative work, Michelle said, "How long ago did that incident with Cox happen, Sean?"

  He calculated in his head. "About thirteen years ago."

  She said, "Willa just turned twelve. Plus nine months for the pregnancy. Sean, Willa's the president's daughter. You happened on them after they'd had sex, not before. And the lady got pregnant."

  "I guess this time around they decided adoption by Jane's brother beat a back-alley abortion and another coma."

  "But you're sure he didn't force himself on Diane Wright?"

  "It appeared to be consensual."

  "If Dan Cox sexually assaulted Tippi Quarry and then she fell into a coma after a botched abortion, Sam Quarry is exacting his revenge."

  Sean looked puzzled. "By kidnapping Willa? And killing her mother? How does that make sense?"

  "By giving him leverage."

  "Leverage with what?"

  "I don't know," she admitted. "But it may have something to do with where the president and his wife are heading right now." Michelle stared at the walls. "How do you think he figured it all out? This would've taken years."

  "He must've really loved his daughter. He never gave up."

  "But he's also a killer. And he has Willa. And we've got to get her back."

  "Do you still have your camera in the SUV?"

  Michelle rushed outside and was back in a couple of minutes with her Nikon. She took shots of all the walls, zooming in on all the writing and photos. Meanwhile, Sean searched through the cabinets and took out armfuls of files that he intended to take with him. Then he saw the letter that Quarry had left on the table along with his last will. He picked them up and read through them before putting the papers away in his pocket.

  He and Michelle were breaking just about every crime scene preservation rule there was. But this wasn't your average crime scene and he had decided to adopt some new rules. He wasn't sure how this was all going to play out, but he felt fairly certain how he wanted it to conclude.

  "All done," said Michelle as she finished snapping the last shots.

  Sean handed her some of the files to carry out. "Michelle, why would he bring Tippi home from the nursing home and then take her somewhere else?"

  "I don't know. It doesn't make sense."

  Sean went farther into the room while Michelle was talking. He turned a corner, peered around an old partition, and cried out, "What the hell is that?"

  She joined him as he rushed over to some metal cylinders stacked in the back of the room. He set down the files he was carrying and turned several cylinders over. Some contained oxygen, some didn't.

  "What is it?" Michelle asked.

  Instead of answering, Sean ran back to the door and threw it open. He brought Gabriel and Ruth Ann in and over to the cylinders.

  They both looked blankly at them and shook their heads when he asked if he knew why Quarry had these. Then Sean eyed the other equipment lying around on a workbench next to the cylinders. The remains of a gutted video camera, some old remotes, cable wire, and rolls of metal sheathing.

  "What is all that for?" he asked.

  Gabriel shook his head. "Don't know, but I do know that Mr. Sam can build anything he wants. Fix anything mechanical. Electronics. Real good carpenter."

  "He just got a head for that," agreed Ruth Ann. "Ain't nuthin' the man can't fix or build."

  "Any idea where he might have gone? You said a truck was missing?"

  "Yeah, but he's got a plane too," said Gabriel.

  "What kind of plane?" Michelle said quickly.

  "Little single-engine Cessna."

  "Why would he need a plane?"

  "He a pilot in Vietnam," answered Ruth Ann. "And he go up to the old mine sometimes. Fly to get there."

  "What old mine?"

  Gabriel explained about the coal mine. He finished by saying, "It was an old Confederate prison one time, Mr. Sam told me."

  "A prison," Sean said, looking at Michelle anxiously. "You think he might have gone up there?"

  "If the plane is gone, that's where he went. Only place he goes in it."

  "You think he took Tippi up there?"

  "Don't think so. All the equipment and what-not she needs, don't think it would fit on the plane. It's pretty small."

  "So where do you think she is?"

  Gabriel thought about this. "Mr. Sam built a little one-room house a ways from here on land his family owned. Nothing there, really. No electricity or anything so I don't think Miss Tippi would be there. 'Cause she would need the electricity for the machines."

  "Why'd he build a place like that, then?" asked Michelle.

  Gabriel shrugged. "Don't know. He built it himself. Took him a long time."

  Sean looked nervously at Michelle before turning to Gabriel. "Do you think you can show us how to get to the mine?"

  "I know it if I go with you."

  "Gabriel!" exclaimed his mother.

  "I don't know the directions to tell 'em, Momma. But if I go I know the way."

  She looked anxiously at Sean. "He's been real good to us, Mr. Sam has. If he done anything bad it be for a good reason, you can count on that."

  "He left us his house and property," volunteered Gabriel.

  "And he give Fred a thousand dollars cash. Fred told me," added Ruth Ann.

  "You think he b
elieved he wouldn't be around much longer?" said Sean.

  "Who knows how long they be around?" countered Ruth Ann. "Drop dead tomorrow, any of us. Lord's will."

  "Who else is up there at the mine, you think?" asked Sean.

  Gabriel answered, "Maybe Daryl, his son. Maybe Carlos."

  "How about a guy named Kurt Stevens?"

  "Mr. Sam said Kurt left town, headed on," said Gabriel.

  "They keep any guns up at the mine?" asked Michelle.

  "Mr. Sam likes his guns. Daryl too. Shoot the wings off a bee, both of 'em."

  "Wonderful," said Sean. "Gabriel, can you drive with us to where he keeps his plane? And if it's not there will you go with us to the mine?"

  Gabriel looked at his mother as she put a protective hand on his shoulder. "Momma, I think I have to do this."

  "Why, boy? Why? This ain't your concern."

  "Mr. Sam isn't a bad man. You said that yourself. I've known him most all my life. If I can go up there and help him make things okay, then that's what I want to do. That's what I want to do."

  A tear trickled down Ruth Ann's face.

  "We'll take good care of him, Ruth Ann," said Sean. "We'll bring him back to you. I promise."

  Ruth Ann turned her red eyes on Sean. "You better damn sure bring him back to me, mister. 'Cause that boy's all I got."

  CHAPTER 78

  THE TWO CHOPPERS lifted off the ground and flew southeast. In one were the president and his wife with a company of Secret Service agents and as much equipment as they could cobble together at the last minute. The second bird carried still more agents, the two best bomb-sniffing dogs the Feds had, more equipment, and Chuck Waters, who'd been tipped off to what was happening by Larry Foster and, unknown to the First Couple, had come along for the ride. Next to him was Aaron Betack, who had joined the party too, also unknown to the First Lady. The skies were growing lighter by the minute, the low-level winds were calm, and the rising sun was rapidly burning off the morning chill.

  Betack's phone rang.

  "Yeah?"

  "Aaron, it's Sean King. We need to talk."

  "I'm sort of busy."

  "I'm in Alabama."

  "What? We are too."

  "We as in who?"

  Betack looked at Waters and then said into the phone, "Like I told you before, Wolfman and Lynx are on the move," he said, referring to Dan and Jane Cox's Secret Service code names. "What are you doing in Alabama?"