More Than Gold (Capitol Chronicles Book 3)

by Shirley Hailstock

  Hart explained that he'd grown up in a middle class family. They always had food and clothes and he wasn't concerned about having the latest electronic devices, although somehow his parents gave him some of those things. That his father was a country lawyer until he was tapped for the Supreme Court.

  Hart followed in his dad's footsteps and went to law school, but found himself training for the Central Intelligence Agency.

  "And you know about my capture and subsequent rescue."

  Morgan nodded. He didn't look totally comfortable talking about that part of his past. Morgan wanted to know about him and her mother, but decided that was a conversation for a time when Carla Lewiston wasn't present.

  ***

  Dinner went better than she expected it to be, mostly due to Jack. Morgan was placed at the head of the table in the small dining room. Hart was on her right and Carla Lewiston on her left. The rest of the table had Jack next to Carla, then Jacob Winston. On Hart's side of the table sat Clarence Christopher and Forrest Washington. Brian Ashleigh sat directly across from her at the other end of the table.

  Hart spoke softly and asked her questions about her past. Morgan did her best to answer them as truthfully as she could. She steered the conversation toward him as often as she could, asking him about his life after he returned from Korea, although neither of them mentioned their common association to the Far Eastern country. Jack kept Carla busy in a conversation that didn't give her the chance to direct uncomfortable looks at Morgan. Morgan supposed it was natural for Carla to distrust and dislike her spouse's child, especially when she didn't know about her, but Morgan didn't like the looks she got any more than she'd enjoy dental surgery.

  Morgan couldn't remember what they ate. She thought there was lobster bisque, and her plate had a soufflé on it when they moved from the table, but she had no memory of eating anything.

  Back in the drawing room with a cup of flavored coffee in her hand, she stood next to the window with Jack.

  "How's it going?" he asked.

  "I'm not sure. I feel like a piece of sculpture. Hart plays the art lover who wants to examine every curve and obtain detailed explanations for each inch of the stone, while his wife hates art and wonders what the big deal is."

  Jack laughed quietly. "I'll try to keep her away from you."

  "Thank you, Jack, but like Eliza Doolittle, I think it's time she had her way with me."

  Morgan smiled, set her cup down and turned toward Mrs. Hart Lewiston. Jack caught her arm and kissed her cheek. "Don't be too hard on her. She is the next First Lady."

  He released her and Morgan walked across the room. Carla sat on a sofa and Morgan saw her stiffen as she approached. Morgan smiled, hoping to make her relax. She'd been talking to Forrest Washington, who excused himself as she approached.

  "Would you like more coffee?" Morgan asked. The older woman shook her head. Morgan took the seat next to her. "You'll make a wonderful First Lady," she said.

  "If Hart is elected." She glanced at her husband, who was talking to Jack.

  "I think he'll get elected."

  "His announcement regarding you didn't help him."

  She'd opened the door. Morgan knew this was the heart of her hostility. Carla resented her position being threatened by Hart telling the world Morgan was his daughter.

  Morgan leaned closer to her so no one around them could hear what she had to say.

  "Mrs. Lewiston." She addressed her formally, knowing they weren't friends, and Morgan knew they wouldn't have the chance to become friends. "I am not here to threaten your position or to suddenly insinuate myself into Hart's life.'' Carla Lewiston looked at her with interest and question in her eyes. "I'm afraid there are things I cannot tell you. They involve most of the men in this room." Carla looked about. "They are not here because of candidate Hart Lewiston. When you leave here tonight you will never see me again."

  Morgan waited for a sign. She expected relief in the woman's eyes, but she got nothing but stony silence.

  "Why are they here?" she finally asked.

  "I can't tell you." She paused and surveyed the room. "What I can tell you"—Morgan stopped and looked back at Carla—"is that within a few days I'll be gone. Hart won't be able to find me. No one will." A pang of pain crushed her heart as she looked at Jack. "So you don't need to worry. Without my presence, the media will find something else to use as a torch. I'll fade into the woodwork. Your life will go on exactly as you planned it."

  At that point Morgan placed her hand on Carla's. It was still cold. She smiled briefly and left the woman sitting alone. She wanted to go to her room. She wanted all these people out of here. She wanted to be alone with her thoughts, without the need to hold her head up, or smile, or conceal her real thoughts. She needed some time and space.

  Jack caught her eye and she knew he understood. He came to her, leaned close to her ear. "Remember what I said about red."

  Morgan burst into laughter. She knew Jack had done it on purpose. He'd taken the fuel from her, making her laugh to relieve the building tension.

  "What's going on over there?" Morgan asked. Jack glanced back at the senator and the director of the FBI. "Your father,'' he said succinctly, making her freeze. "He wants to know what the FBI is doing to catch the people trying to kill you and how long you'll be sequestered in this house."

  "Did they tell him?"

  "Apparently not."

  "I thought he understood his trip here was for this time only. That there would be nothing more."

  "That might have been the original plan, but he's met you now."

  "Maybe it's time I put an end to this."

  "Want some help?" Jack asked.

  She shook her head, but he followed her. Approaching the small group, they stopped talking and each took a step back. "I'd like to talk to Hart, if you don't mind." Each man nodded as she looked at him. "Why don't we go for a walk?"

  Morgan took his arm and led him toward the French doors. She opened them and they left the room behind, yet she could feel the sets of eyes trained on her. She led Hart away from the house. The sun set later during summer months. It was getting dark, but it was still light enough to see. The air was clear and brushed her naked shoulders. She stopped at the paddock fence. Hart's secret service agents stopped a few yards away--out of ear shot.

  "This is where Jacob convinced me to see you." She looked over the empty paddock. The horses were all in the stables.

  "You didn't want to see me?"

  She looked away. "Not at first. It's been a long time. I've lived my whole life without a father. It's too late to acquire one now."

  "It's not too late for us to get to know each other."

  "I think it is."

  "Why?"

  "You've read about me in the papers," she stated.

  He nodded.

  "Then you should know that tonight is it. Tomorrow you go back to your life, your campaign, and I. . .I continue with mine."

  "It doesn't have to be that way. There must be something that can be done."

  "They're doing it," Morgan said.

  "We can hire an investigator."

  "No—"

  "Find out who is—"

  "No,'' she shouted. 'You're not listening to me. Everything that can be done is being done." She gripped the splintering fence and calmed her voice. "If there was a way, Jack would have found it."

  "Jack?"

  The single word was a volume in itself. Everything she felt about Jack was asked in the one word.

  "Yes, Jack." She looked him straight in the eyes. A lump gathered in her throat. She swallowed it down. "I'll be leaving him too."

  Suddenly he looked tired. Morgan had a thousand questions and no time to get answers. He probably had a thousand more for her. She called him her father, sometimes thought of him as her father, but there was nothing to bond them. She had a great love for her mother. When she thought of Rose Kirkwood, feelings ran through her, happy days at the park, a Christmas tree, being read to, ha
ving her shampooed hair brushed. She had a short lifetime of memories. She couldn't explain how she felt. It was a place that was warm and bright and made her feel good. When she thought of Hart. . .when she looked at him, she had none of those feelings. He was a stranger, the presidential nominee.

  She didn't know what he saw when he looked at her. Now that they had met, he could go back to his campaign and forget her. They had no tie, no connection, no love lost or found. They were two strangers who had a nice dinner. She had never been one to share childhood stories. Hers weren't the campfire variety and she thought they would make him feel bad if she told him the unvarnished truth. It was best for them to separate.

  "I've done most of the talking tonight. Is there anything you want to ask me?" Hart asked.

  "I'd like you to tell me about my mother."

  CHAPTER 17

  Clarence Christopher listened intently to the voice in his ear. He'd been waiting all through dinner for this call. Each time a waiter came in to serve another course he'd hoped to be called to the phone, but it hadn't happened. The entire evening had gone and nothing, but he smiled now.

  "Are you sure you've got them all?" he asked.

  "Fine," he said a moment later. "Make sure the report is on my desk in the morning.

  He replaced the receiver. Jacob stood next to him.

  "I take it they got them?" he asked.

  "All of them," he said. "According to Carver, they are singing like birds. Where are Morgan and Jack?"

  "Outside with the Lewistons," Clarence said. "Hart and Morgan went out first. Mrs. Lewiston followed a few minutes later. I guess this means they won't be needing my services," Jacob said with a smile.

  "I think not. We have to be sure, but with what we have on Chung and his cronies and what they tried to do, I'm sure their government will be willing to accept anything we present to keep the scandal off the front pages."

  Jacob nodded. "It would be awful to discover that the presidential candidate was trying to kill the daughter of an American icon."

  Clarence nodded. He heard the chopper blades as the helicopter returning Senator Lewiston and his wife took off.

  "Why don't you deliver the good news to the happy couple,'' Clarence said to Jacob. "I'll let Ashleigh know."

  ***

  Jack slipped his arm around Morgan as they walked back toward the house. The chopper carrying Hart and Carla Lewiston back to Andrews Air Force Base, where they would enter their limousine for the trip back into D.C., was overhead. The sound of the blades beating the air became fainter and fainter. Morgan didn't know how long it would be before that sound didn't set her teeth on edge. Likewise the cars with Jacob, Forrest and Brian had also left for their return to the city. They were alone except for the staff. Morgan leaned into him and he tightened his arm around her.

  "How did you like him?"

  ''I don't know,'' she said. "If we had time I suppose I could get used to the idea, but. . ." She left the sentence trailing. They didn't have enough time. She was scheduled to leave tomorrow for the program. He wouldn't see her again after tonight. She didn't even know it yet. Jack put off telling her until after Hart could get here and go.

  He'd watched the two of them when the rotors started to turn. Carla had already entered the aircraft. Father and daughter faced each other awkwardly. Neither knew what to do. Jack put his hand on Morgan's back and pushed her. She hugged Hart like a stilted doll. He squeezed her and closed his eyes. Jack thought he genuinely would miss her.

  They both would.

  Inside, Morgan excused herself to go to her room.

  "Before you go," Jack stopped her. "I have some news for you."

  "I hope it's good news."

  "It is."

  She waited for him to say something.

  "Well," she said. "Tell me."

  Jack smiled. "I told Jacob I was going into the program with you."

  A smile the size of the entire Commonwealth of Virginia spread across her face.

  "But. . ." he trailed off.

  "But?" She waited expecting bad news was coming

  "But they caught the Koreans tonight. You won't be going into the program."

  Morgan opened her mouth to speak. Nothing came out. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. "Are you sure, Jack?"

  "I'm sure."

  "Are you really sure?"

  He pulled her in his arms. "On my honor." Jack didn't think good news would make her cry. He knew she was happy, but her tears hurt him. He didn't ask her to stop or push her away. He held her just as he had in that closet twelve years ago until she stopped.

  She stepped back when her emotions were under control. "I'd better go wash my face," she said.

  "All right, Red."

  She laughed through the tears and started for the stairs.

  Jack started his nightly routine of making sure everything was secure. He checked the outside perimeter, contacting each of the stationed agents, making sure everything was secure. Then he'd go through all the downstairs rooms, looking for anything out of place, unlocked or unsecured. His hand was on the doorknob of the drawing room when the microphone in his ear activated.

  "Jack, someone's just come over the fence on the south wall."

  "How many?"

  "Three, but I think there are more."

  "Take care of them. I'm going to secure Morgan."

  He took the steps three at a time. Without knocking, he burst through the door of Morgan's room. She was in front of the mirror, pulling her hair down. She'd changed from the red dress and wore a white robe. She shifted when he opened the door.

  "What's wrong?"

  His face must have told her something was happening.

  "Don't leave this room," Jack said and pulled the door closed. He went back down the stairs, speaking into the mike as he went. "Where are they now?"

  "There are six of them and they're heading for the house. They've spread out."

  "Any around the back?"

  "The back is secure."

  "Take them down," Jack ordered. "All other areas report."

  "Caldwell, secure."

  "Markum, secure."

  "Greene, secure."

  One by one they reported in. The only place it appeared they had penetrated was along the south wall.

  "You know what to do," Jack spoke to the group.

  He headed toward the south. Gunfire startled him. He hit the dirt, keeping his head down. Short bursts broke the silence. Jack crawled toward the sound. He pulled infrared glasses from a pocket near his gun and put them on. The world took on a red glow, and only the hot spots moved in the surreal world. With his gun in his hand, he chambered a shell and started toward the gunfire.

  "Damn," he cursed after moving only a few feet. The helicopter was back. And it was landing. What was Lewiston doing here? He didn't need him too. He was a hanging target up there. Then the light came on and shone directly on the target. Jack smiled. "Thank you, Hart." He was showing them where the assailants were.

  "They're retreating," he heard one of the agents say.

  "Don't let them get away,'' Jack replied. They'd been chasing him too long. He wanted to know who they were and what they wanted.

  The helicopter continued to follow the retreating men, keeping its light trained on them. Jack saw a hot spot through his glasses. The person extended his arm, aiming for the chopper. Lying on his stomach, Jack gripped his handgun with both hands, aimed and pulled the trigger. He heard the short scream of pain as the bullet found its mark. Jack had aimed for his shoulder. He wanted him alive. He wanted to look this one in the eye and make him tell the complete and utter truth.

  He wanted to know who was really masterminding this operation. With everyone dead they would only be buying time until another assault could be planned or she went into the program. Jack wanted to prevent that if he could.

  Another short burst of gunfire stopped his movement.

  "This is Chandler. I've got two of them."

 
; "Are they alive?" Jack shot back.

  "Yes."

  "Rayfield, two dead in front of me."

  "Tomlison, report," Jack barked into his microphone.

  "This is Tomlison. I'm outside the fence. I got two coming over."

  "I've got one down, but not secure by the west wall," Jack had to shout over the sound of the landing chopper.

  "Neville here. I'm behind him, Jack." In seconds Jack saw the man he'd shot raising his good hand. Neville was on him, handcuffing him.

  "Taylor?" The only female on the detail hadn't reported.

  "I'm outside a truck about five hundred feet north of the front gate.'' Her voice was distinctive, low and purring as if she could roll all the letters in the alphabet. "There are two men inside. I could use some backup."

  "Innis here," her partner identified himself. "I'm on my way."

  Jack got up from the ground. "Bring them in," he ordered. "Greene, make sure Mr. Lewiston and his wife are safe."

  "On my way," Greene replied.

  ***

  Morgan pulled a shirt over her head and grabbed her jeans. She wasn't staying here. She heard gunfire outside. Where was Jack? He was heading for it. He could get killed. She tried to put her jeans on while running. She tripped and hopped, all the while pulling at the stubborn pants. When she got them on, she slipped her sockless feet into sneakers, taking no time to tie the laces.

  She heard more gunfire and then the helicopter. What now? she thought. If she never heard another helicopter it would be too soon. Yanking the door inward, she rushed into the hall. As she turned toward the front stairs a man stepped in front of her. Her heart lurched into her throat. He pointed a black gun at her.

  "That's far enough," he said. He was dressed entirely in black. This one was only as tall as she was, but he was burly enough to knock the air out of her with only a swat.