The Target

by David Baldacci

  pretended to listen to Min, Chung-Cha eavesdropped on the conversation the men were having. She learned some important details, including exactly when the party was arriving and how.

  After they left the café she stopped to write some things down and then she and Min went to their car and drove off. She pulled into a gas station. Chung-Cha eyed the small windowed office where a clerk stood behind the cash register.

  She folded up the paper she had written on and handed it to Min.

  “Do you see the man in there?” she said, pointing. Min looked in that direction, saw the clerk, and nodded. “You will take him this note while I put fuel into the car.”

  “What does it say, the note?”

  “It’s unimportant. I’m just giving him some information he needs.”

  “How do you know him?”

  “I know him from our country.”

  “Why is he here?”

  “Just take him the note, Min. Do it now. And he will give you something in return for me.”

  Min opened the door, looked back once at Chung-Cha, and then hurried into the little office.

  Chung-Cha pumped gas while she watched Min. She gave the man the note and he in turn gave her a piece of paper, along with some candy from the rack next to the register. He smiled and patted Min on the head.

  When Min returned to the car, she handed Chung-Cha the note and held up the package of chocolates.

  “Can I have these?”

  “Just one. Save the rest for later.”

  Chung-Cha slipped the note into her pocket.

  “You’re not going to read what the note says?” asked Min as she popped the candy into her mouth.

  “Later, not here.”

  They drove back to the cottage.

  While Min went off to play, Chung-Cha looked at the note. It was written in code, and not in Korean, just in case. They had used English instead.

  She read through the contents twice to make sure she had missed nothing. Then she let out a small breath as she heard Min laugh. The TV was on and she must be watching her cartoons.

  It must be good to laugh, thought Chung-Cha. It must be very good.

  Chapter

  68

  IT LOOKS LIKE A BABY’S bib,” observed Reel.

  “Or a bikini bottom,” replied Robie.

  They were in a private jet descending into the airport on Nantucket. Looking at the island from this altitude had prompted their respective descriptions.

  “Mars, Venus,” said Reel wryly.

  “Guess so.”

  Eleanor Cassion and her children were riding up front with their protection detail. Special motorcade cars were being ferried over. If the president had been coming, the logistics would have been far more daunting.

  “Settled in 1641, about forty-eight square miles of land and about fifty-eight more of water. Fifty thousand people during the summer, about a fifth of that during the rest of the year,” said Reel. “They call the island the ‘little gray lady of the sea’ when the place is fog-bound, which it apparently is a good deal of the time. But on that island is some of the most expensive land in the country. Highest point is Folger Hill, about one hundred and nine feet.”

  Robie stared at her. “Aren’t you just the fount of information.”

  “Google makes everybody a genius.”

  The jet touched down and came to a stop. Reel and Robie grabbed their bags and headed for the exit.

  Claire Cassion made a point of stepping directly in front of Robie in the aisle. Her mother and brother were just ahead of her. The Secret Service were already outside the plane making sure everything was okay before the family exited into the waiting SUV.

  Claire had on skinny jeans, heels that made her much taller, and a Yale sweatshirt. She glanced back at Robie. “Enjoy the flight?”

  “I enjoy every flight where the plane lands on its wheels.”

  She laughed. “That’s really funny. Handsome and a sense of humor, pretty impressive.”

  Reel turned her head so Claire would not see her rolling her eyes. But she did poke Robie hard in the back and whispered, “God, it must be great to be so popular with children.”

  As they walked down the jet steps Claire tripped in her heels, but Robie caught her. She squeezed his arm, “Thanks, Mr. Robie.”

  “Just make it Will.”

  She flashed a toothy smile. “Okay, and you can make it Claire.”

  Robie was expecting another poke from Reel, but it didn’t come. He glanced over and saw Tommy staring, not at him, but at Reel, while Eleanor was watching her daughter with a look of resigned exasperation.

  As they stepped onto the tarmac they saw the three-SUV motorcade waiting. Robie said to Reel, “I think you have your own fan club.” His gaze led Reel’s over to Tommy as the boy climbed into the middle SUV. Tommy was still staring at her.

  “Great,” said Reel wearily. “Just great.”

  They rode in the rear vehicle behind the SUV carrying the Cassions. Two Secret Service agents rode with them.

  One of them said, “Welcome aboard. Understand you guys are with our intelligence community.”

  “State Department,” said Reel, hiding her smile.

  “Yeah,” said the agent, grinning.

  “Why Nantucket?” said Robie.

  The agent shrugged. “First Lady went to school in Boston. Apparently she spent a lot of time here as a kid. Good memories.”

  “And must be nice to get away from D.C.”

  “Always nice to get away from that place,” agreed the agent. He added, “You two being here, anything we need to know? Threats?”

  “The only reason we’re here,” said Robie, “is because the First Lady asked us to be.”

  “I think she believes we can have a calming influence on her son,” added Reel.

  The agent nodded. “He’s been having a rough time of it. Not easy for a kid.”

  “No, it’s not,” said Reel.

  “You think you can help him?” asked the agent. “He’s a good kid. Never gives us any problems, except when he gets in fights at school.”

  “I don’t know if we can help him,” said Reel. “But we can try.”

  “So you guys have experience with kids?”

  Robie and Reel exchanged glances. Reel said, “We work in D.C., so we have lots of experience dealing with children.”

  The agent laughed as the motorcade drove on.

  The place where they were staying was within easy walking distance of the downtown area. There were two buildings: a large main house and a four-bedroom guest cottage. The Cassions and their staff would be in the main house. The protection detail was in the guesthouse. Robie and Reel were given rooms in the main house.

  After she’d unpacked, Reel came into Robie’s bedroom, which was next to hers.

  “Feeling privileged to be bunking with the Cassions?” she said as she perched on the bed.

  Robie put the rest of his clothes away and said, “Jury’s still out on that.”

  Reel looked out the window. “Never been here. Looks nice, if a little surreal. Like a Ralph Lauren ad.”

  Robie joined her at the window and looked out over the grounds. “Secret Service will have its work cut out for it. Lots of access points and that’s a public thoroughfare right there. I bet they’d like more of a buffer.”

  “You thinking they’re going to be attacked on dear old Nantucket?”

  “Just saying.”

  “It’s hard to turn it off, I guess.”

  “It’s impossible to turn it off. Never look at the world any differently. Points of attack and counterattack.”

  “Kind of sucks, doesn’t it?”

  “Not if it keeps you alive it doesn’t.”

  Someone knocked on the door.

  “Want to guess who?” said Reel.

  “Come on in,” said Robie.

  The door opened and there stood Claire. Her smile faded when she saw Reel. “Will, my mom wanted to let you know that we’re all
planning to go get some lunch and then take a walk on the beach. She’d really like you to come.” Claire did not look at Reel as she said this.

  Reel put an arm around Robie’s shoulders. “Tell your mom we’d be delighted.”

  Claire frowned and said, “Okay. Downstairs, five minutes.” Then she spun around on her heels and stalked off.

  “I’d be careful, Jessica,” said Robie.

  “Why?”

  “Those are stilettos she’s wearing.”

  At the restaurant Claire arranged things so she was sitting next to Robie while her brother and mom sat on either side of Reel.

  She said to Robie, “Mom said you were, like, a hero.”

  “That was very kind of your mother. But all I did was my job, no more, no less.”

  She tapped him on the forearm. “I bet you have some great stories.”

  Eleanor said, “None of which he can tell you, Claire, so don’t hound the poor man about them.”

  “I don’t hound, Mom,” said Claire, frowning. “I’m just interested, that’s all.”

  “You thinking about going into public service?” asked Robie.

  “Yes. And it won’t be long. I’m practically in college.”

  “You just started your sophomore year, so you really have three more years of high school,” her mother pointed out.

  “Which will go by like that,” said Claire, snapping her fingers.

  “I’m afraid you’re right about that,” said her mother with a sigh and a glance at Tommy. She tousled his hair. “We’re going to the beach after this, Tommy. You can add to your shell collection.”

  Tommy glanced awkwardly at Reel. “That’s for kids, Mom.”

  “I actually like collecting seashells,” said Reel.

  Tommy immediately brightened. “I know a lot about them. I can show you stuff.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Eleanor gave Reel a grateful look and then they all turned to their menus.

  The beach was deserted and rocky; it was low tide. Tendrils of sea foam and green algae coated the sand and the rocks. The day was overcast and the seas unstable. The breakers banged away, but far from where they walked.

  Tommy and his mother had buckets in which they were collecting shells. Reel walked next to Tommy while Claire was glued to Robie. The protection detail, dressed in Windbreakers and jeans, formed a loose circle around them all.

  “I’m really glad you came up here with us, Will,” said Claire.

  “You’d probably like to be back home with your friends,” said Robie.

  “Oh, no way,” she said. “My friends are okay, but they’re pretty immature. Especially the boys.”

  “Yeah,” said Robie uncomfortably. He looked over at Reel for help, but she smiled and quickly looked away, focusing on Tommy and his bucket of shells.

  Tommy held one up for her. “My dad said shells can come from thousands of miles away. This one might have started off near China or something and then ended up here. Pretty cool.”

  “Pretty cool,” said Reel.

  “Are you married?” Tommy asked.

  “No.”

  “Were you ever?”

  “No. Why do you ask?”

  “Well, I mean, most women your age are married, aren’t they?”

  “I don’t know, Tommy. Maybe they are.”

  “Do you have kids?”

  Reel looked past him, out to the ocean. “No, I don’t.”

  Tommy looked disappointed. She added, “But I think I’d like to be a mother, one day. I guess I have to make up my mind before it’s too late. I’m not getting any younger.”

  “Oh, you’ve got plenty of time,” said Tommy encouragingly. “And I bet you’d make a great mom.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate that.”

  Tommy bent down and snagged another shell and then pointed to a horseshoe crab scuttling away. “Creepy things.” He straightened and said, “Is what you do dangerous?”

  “Why do you ask that?”

  “My dad said you guys were heroes. Serving the country. That’s usually dangerous.”

  “We try to make it as safe as possible,” said Reel diplomatically.

  “Have you ever killed anybody?”

  “Tommy!” called out his mother, who apparently had overheard this. “I’m sure Agent Reel would prefer to talk about other things.”

  Tommy glanced up, looking embarrassed. “Sorry.”

  “No need to be,” said Reel. “Asking questions is how you learn things. Can I ask you some?”

  He looked at her nervously. “Like what?”

  “Like what you like and don’t like, living where you do?”

  “I don’t like any of it,” said Tommy fiercely.

  “None of it, really?”

  He hesitated. “Well, I mean, riding in Air Force One is pretty cool.”

  “You’re one of the few kids to ever do that.”

  “And the Secret Service guys are nice.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “I don’t like people saying stuff about my dad.”

  “I wouldn’t either.”

  “My sister thinks I’m a useless idiot.”

  “Well, I’m afraid that would be the case regardless of where you live. It’s just this thing between big sisters and little brothers. When you’re older you’ll probably be really close.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “No, you will. Because what you’re experiencing right now is so unique, Tommy, and you and your sister will always share that experience. She may not let on, but I would imagine this has been hard for her too.”

  “No it hasn’t! Everybody loves Claire.”

  “Really, everybody?”

  Tommy looked at the shells in his bucket. “Well, there are a few girls at her school that give her a hard time. And she says one teacher hates her because she doesn’t like Dad.”

  “So not everybody loves her, then.”