Sex, Lies & Black Tie

by Kris Calvert

  I blew her a kiss and she splayed her hand across her chest. Our charade was on.

  Back inside the house, I rambled through the kitchen and headed straight up the stairs. I needed a shower and I needed it badly. At first I walked past the master bedroom, but thought better of it. I refused to be a prisoner in my own home. If someone wanted to tape me they could have at it. I wasn’t going to bend to a bully.

  I started the water in the shower and pulled the t-shirt from over my head, dropping it to the floor. Looking across the marble counter top, I faced the claw foot tub. I knew the angle at which Samantha had been filmed and I stood in that corner of the room scanning for anything out of the ordinary.

  The sparse area was void of clutter, save for a stack of rolled towels in a container that separated the two sinks. I very casually pulled a towel from the center of the stack, disturbing the other six in the process.

  A tiny white remote camera the size of an eraser head fell to the floor. Grabbing a hand-towel, I confiscated it without touching and wrapped it inside the towel. If there were fingerprints, I wanted them.

  Unbuttoning my jeans, I took them and my black boxer briefs off, feeling slightly victorious that I’d rid the house of the camera.

  The hot shower helped, at the very least, to soothe my sore neck and head. The lump still smarted each time I turned too quickly, and shampooing my hair was painful. Luckily Samantha hadn’t noticed the marks around my neck. How would I explain that someone tried to kill me just yesterday?

  I soaped up, shaved quickly and got out, wrapping the towel around my waist. I was home. Thank God, I was home. But not for long.

  A phone rang in the other room—the house phone. The new burner phone sat silent, only displaying the time—eight—and I wondered if they had Frankie.

  “Callahan.”

  “Mac, it’s Harlan.”

  I took a deep breath. “Harlan, I found a camera in the bathroom.”

  “Did you keep it?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said, sitting on the bed.

  “Good. Keep it for me—evidence. Not to mention I’d like to take a look at it.”

  I walked back to the bathroom counter. “I’ll leave it on my desk in the study. What else?”

  “I’ve traced the anonymous IP address. The one that sent you the videos.”

  “And?”

  “Do you know Senator Jeramiah Storm? Late fifties, silver hair. The man has been a staple in Washington for years.”

  A wave of adrenaline coursed through my body. “Yes, I know who he is.” I couldn’t say anything about Brady. I’d promised him, and there was no way I would put that kid through anything more. He’d been let down by plenty of people in his short lifetime, and I had no intention of being added to that list.

  “It’s him, Mac. The emails came from his private laptop on Capitol Hill.”

  “You really think he’s capable of pulling something like this off? Anyone could’ve used his laptop. Someone could be framing him,” I said, knowing the asshole was guilty of soliciting a kid online for sex, at the very least.

  “I’m telling you what I’ve found. I think you need to go to Washington. Pay him a visit. Confront him. He has no idea what you know.”

  “The bastards know I’ve moved their camera.”

  “Just be careful, Mac. This is a real hornet’s nest you’re getting into.”

  I nodded my head, yes. I knew it was bigger—much bigger—but I didn’t want to involve Harlan any more than I already had. “Harlan, thanks for digging into this for me, but I haven’t decided my next move. You know there’s kinda of a big thing going on at Lone Oak tomorrow. Samantha needs me here.”

  “I’d go to Washington to vet it out for you, Mac. But I’m being paid to be at your house. Funny how that worked out.”

  “Yeah,” I sighed. “Thank you—thank you for everything. I’ll keep you posted, Harlan.”

  “No problem. You should know, I went into the mainframe that controls the security cameras on your property. Whoever hacked in didn’t leave a trail, but it was a quick fix, so rest easy. Okay?”

  “And that’s it?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m asking if you think there’s any other kind of threat. I mean, I’ll go to D.C. and pick up Senator Storm for questioning, but you think Lone Oak is safe?”

  “Do you think I’d be giving Washington the all clear for the President and Secretary of State to arrive tomorrow if I didn’t think Lone Oak was safe? Don’t forget, I’m retiring and I want a job in D.C. I’m not going to do anything to fuck that up.”

  “Okay.” I needed to trust someone on the inside. Dan wanted me to walk away from it. At least Harlan was willing to trace the email to Storm’s office. It had to be one of the Secret Service guys combing the house, readying the place for the party. I thought to myself, what an easy job—we were easy targets.

  “Mac?”

  “Yes.”

  “Be sure to come back for your wife’s party. Happy wife, happy life.”

  “First I have to tell her I’m leaving again.”

  I dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a pale blue dress shirt, throwing a navy blazer over my shoulder. With no socks and only my loafers, I wanted to seem as if I was as casual and carefree as I could be. Still, I had a gun in my waistband and a phone in each pocket.

  I hustled down the stairs knowing I’d have to make my own coffee. Pushing open the kitchen door, I found sitting on my stool with his back to me, none other than Clark Kent himself—Boone Henry.

  Swiveling on the stool, he turned. “Good Morning, I hope you don’t have a headache—”

  I stared through him as if to say, how dare you make yourself so comfortable in my home. “Good morning, Senator. I trust you are being well taken care of while visiting with us.”

  He took a moment to collect his thoughts. “I’m sorry, I was expecting—”

  “Not me, I assume. Possibly my beautiful wife?” I asked with the most genuine smile I could muster.

  The kitchen was silent as I pulled a mug from the cupboard and poured myself some coffee. “Sorry Miss Celia isn’t here to make breakfast this morning. She’s off with the children. Samantha thought it best for them not to be underfoot these last few hours—you know—before the big gala,” I said, widening my eyes with veiled sarcasm.

  “Sure,” he replied looking to the floor. Suddenly the man who looked like Superman wasn’t so super.

  I took a sip of the hot coffee and leaned against the counter since he was sitting on my stool. “Everything going okay for the party? I see the protection detail is out in full force. Just the advance team, I assume.”

  “I’m not entirely sure. The SAIC is here somewhere if you’d like to speak with him, and Harlan—”

  “Jackman?” I asked, taking another sip. “I spoke with him this morning. He’s a real old fashioned American hero—you know—Iran, Iraq. Did you know he speaks Arabic and Farsi?”

  “Baleh,” he replied.

  I didn’t know much, but I knew he’d just answered yes in Farsi.

  “Yes, I’m aware,” Boone said to clarify his answer.

  “Yeah,” I said, pausing to shift my weight. “I caught it the first time. I understand he’s joining your staff after he retires next month.”

  “Yes.”

  Boone Henry was rattled and I didn’t know why. Was it that he’d had dinner with my wife the night before and gotten her drunk? Did he know I knew? By his actions, I could only assume the answer was, baleh.

  “Well, I better get to it. I have a conference call here in a bit and I’m sure I’m needed at the tent for something.” Boone said rising from his seat. “Thanks for the coffee.”

  I don’t know what it was about the guy, but something pinged my radar. Boone Henry was gay. Suddenly, I was so sure, I’d almost stake my life on it.

  “I know they need all the help they can get down there. I was just in the tent with Samantha, so…” I said, trailing
off. “Well, I’ll let you get to it.”

  Boone emptied his coffee cup in the sink, leaving it on the counter. I followed his every move with intent. He watched me out of the corner of his eye and I found it oddly amusing. This guy may look like a stud-muffin to the press and the elite of Washington, but to me he was all muffin—no stud.

  Walking through the swinging kitchen door, he began to whistle and I thought of Sam’s comment last night. Dixie was his tune of choice and I couldn’t help but to quietly join in before taking another sip of my coffee.

  My pant pocket vibrating, I pulled the newest burner phone out, taking a quick glance at the clock on the wall. It was five minutes after eight. Frankie should’ve been at Union Station ready for the pick-up.

  “Hello.”

  “The fox is safely in the henhouse.”

  “Who is this?”

  “It’s Elias. Who did you think it was?”

  “Hang on.” I pushed my way out the door to walk across the back of the property. I still didn’t trust what was and wasn’t bugged.

  Twenty yards clear of the house and tent, I spoke. “Okay. Talk to me.”

  “Elvis is in the building.”

  “For the love of God, just say you have her.”

  “We’ve got her. I’m taking her back to the farm for safe keeping. When are you getting back here?”

  “The farm? You mean you’re taking her to your office?”

  “Jesus, Mac. You take all the fun out of this. Yes, Rory has Micah and they’re on their way to meet us. I thought it was the safest place for everyone. You know, off grid.”

  “How is she?” I asked.

  “Here,” Elias said. “Ask her yourself.”

  “Mac?” Her voice was hushed and shaken.

  “Frankie? Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

  Quietly she sobbed on the other end, and I asked the question again. “Frankie, talk to me. Are you okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did they hurt you?”

  “They tied me up. Made me take something. I don’t know what it was.” She spoke in fits and starts, obviously still reeling from the experience. “But no one, you know…”

  “There was no sexual contact.”

  “No.”

  I let out a heavy sigh of thankfulness. “Frankie, we need to get you to a doctor. I’m going to call a friend of mine.”

  “No, Mac—no doctors. I just want to pretend this never happened.”

  “We don’t know what they gave you, Frankie. I promise, she’ll be discreet. I’ll have her meet you at the hotel I’m sending you to.”

  “Fine,” she sniffed.

  “And I need to speak with you. You have vital information that could help the others still there.”

  “I know,” she sobbed. “I understand. Thank you for everything you did to get me out of there.”

  “Frankie, I merely paid for you—and I’d do it a hundred times over if it meant getting you back to your sister.”

  “Jesus, Micah’s gonna kill me.”

  “I think you’re good for at least a couple of days before she lays into you. Right now she’s gonna be happy you’re safe. We’ve all been there with Micah. You’ll survive, just like the rest of us.”

  Frankie let out a little laugh and I had to smile. “Here’s Elias, and Mac?”

  “Yeah, kid?”

  “You’re the best.”

  “You’re family, Frankie. And you’re welcome.”

  Patiently I waited for Elias to come back on the line.

  “Yeah, chief.”

  “Look Elias, this isn’t CSI on primetime. Just call me Mac. I’m coming back to Washington. Take Frankie to the Four Seasons on Pennsylvania Avenue. I’ll call ahead and have a room arranged for you. Call Micah and have her meet you there. Frankie’s going to need to shower and sleep. I don’t want her to go home. Not yet anyway.”

  “Ten-four, chief.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Look, Mac,” he said bringing his voice down. “I don’t want to leave her just yet. I mean, even when her sister shows up—you know what I mean?”

  “I know what you mean, but if Micah or Frankie wants you gone, you go.”

  “Roger that.”

  “I’ll be there in a few hours.”

  “Okay. Anything you need me to do?”

  “I thought our score was settled.”

  “Yeah, well.”

  “Yeah, well,” I replied, mimicking him. “Just know I’ll be there soon. Tell Micah. I have some loose ends to tie up.”

  I turned around to face the activity by the tent only to find Samantha standing right behind me. Giving her a wink, I finished my phone call. “Head to the Four Seasons now, Elias. Got it?”

  “Roger. Warner out.”

  I hung up and slid the phone into my pocket, wrapping my arm around Sam and pulling her into me. I kissed the top of her head and hugged her against my body. I loved the way she smelled, I loved the way she felt in my arms. She was everything to me and I never wanted to be apart from her. Yet I was about to break the news I was leaving—again.

  “What’s going on?” She mumbled the question into my chest.

  “Nothing, darlin’.”

  “You know better than to lie to me, Mac. I can read you like an open book.”

  Pulling away from our tight embrace, I softly kissed her lips before she abruptly stepped away.

  “Give it up, Mac.”

  I stared into her beautiful face brushing a stray hair from her cheek, and ran my thumb across her bottom lip. In a perfect world, I was alone with my wife. No tent, no party, no slimy politicians and insiders buying people for sexual tourism. More than anything, I wanted to simply hold Samantha in my arms. The rest of it could just go away.

  “Mac.”

  I pulled her close to me once again, as if not looking her in the eye when I said the words would make it any less undesirable. “I’m flying back to D.C. in a bit. But I will be home tomorrow morning at the latest, and I will be here and ready to be the husband of the belle of the ball tomorrow night. You have my word.”

  “What?”

  I didn’t respond. There was nothing I could say that would make it any more palatable. It was a crap deal—we both knew it.

  She dropped her embrace and backed away from me. “But what about our plan to act as if nothing’s wrong?”

  “I know baby. I know. They’ve picked up Frankie—”

  “And?”

  “She’s fine. I just spoke with her. I need to head back to Washington to check on some things before the trail we’re on goes cold.”

  My phone rang and I saw that it was the satellite phone I’d given to Randall.

  “Who is it?” she asked.

  “Randall,” I said, answering after the first ring. “Did you make it to the house okay?”

  “Are the children all right?” she asked, suddenly hanging on my arm for the phone.

  I nodded to her even though he hadn’t answered my question.

  “Everything here is according to plan. The children are fine. They’re playing and Celia has started cooking something in the kitchen for lunch that smells like heaven.”

  I gave Samantha a thumbs up and a smile. “Great to hear. Call me at this number if anything comes up, but otherwise I’ll keep you informed.”

  “No problem.”

  “I promise you won’t be there longer than a day or so.”

  “I’m available as long as you need me, sir.”

  “Thank you, Randall.”

  I hung up and looked to Samantha. “The kids are great—they’re playing and Celia is making lunch. Everyone’s safe. Okay?”

  “And what about you?”

  I took Samantha’s hands into mine, giving them a squeeze. “Do you trust me?”

  “You know I do.”

  “I promise I’ll be back here in the morning.”

  She looked to our entwined fingers and back to me. The sun had climbed high into the sky and she squ
inted in the light. “Just do what you can for these kids. And be careful.”

  I pulled her in again and kissed her. “Look, I promised you a couple of things when we got married. One was that we would grow old together. The other was that our life would never be dull. I’m just keeping up both ends of the deal, baby. You know how I honor my promises. I’m a man of my word.”

  She kissed me. “Did you hear me? Be careful.”

  “Always.”

  59.93.240.100

  FIREWALL BREACH. GOING DARK.

  21

  SAMANTHA

  I pulled my hair into a ponytail as I walked through the house. At the moment, I was uncomfortable in my own home, but worse, I was uncomfortable in my own skin. Walking into the study to contact the caterer who was already an hour late this morning, I found Boone hastily packing his briefcase. I needed to put on a good show—act as if I knew nothing of what was really going on in my own home.

  “That’s how it is, huh? You show a girl a good time with wine and chit chat and then you pack up your things and slink off the next morning?”

  “Oh—ah—nothing like that,” he said haphazardly throwing files in his bag like the room was on fire.

  Moving closer, I could read the uneasiness on his face. I wasn’t a trained Federal agent, but I knew twitchy when I saw it. “What is it?”

  Finally getting all of his papers together, he shoved the last file folder into his briefcase and closed the large gold buckle across the top. “It’s nothing,” he replied.

  Now that I was closer I could see the perspiration on his upper lip. This wasn’t nothing. “It seems like it’s something, Boone.”

  “I need to go back to Washington. I know I’m supposed to be here all day with you—but it looks like everything is on target here. I need to get back for a Senate sub-committee meeting this afternoon. But I promise, I’ll be back.”

  I let out a sigh and placed my hands on my hips. “You and everyone else.”