by Kris Calvert
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you’re leaving, the kids have left—that was a good thing. I’m by myself from here on out.”
Boone’s gaze narrowed. “What do you mean by yourself?”
“Mac had to fly out for something.”
“I just spoke with him not thirty minutes ago in the kitchen.”
I nodded. “He’s in, he’s out and like you, he’s promised to be back for the party tomorrow night.”
Boone nodded. “Well, I’m sorry—truly sorry I have to run off like this.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “It’s okay.”
Walking toward me, he stopped and squeezed my elbow. “I want you to know I really enjoyed talking last night. You know, I don’t have that many people that I trust with, you know, information about my life. That’s the way it works in Washington. It’s not who you really are, but the façade you spin for the audience. It’s all smoke and mirrors Samantha. Remember that.”
“Your secrets are safe with me, Boone.”
He squeezed my elbow one more time before letting go. “Thank you. You’re truly beautiful, inside and out.”
Dropping his hand and his gaze, he looked to his watch. “I need to hit it if I’m going to catch my flight.”
“Why don’t you fly back with Mac?” I asked. “I mean, you’re going to D.C., he’s going to D.C.”
“That’s a kind offer.” His cheeks were flushed and a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. “And normally I would take you up on it, but I have a plane waiting for me at the private airfield. It just delivered another Secret Service detail and it’s heading back straightaway—so again—I’m sorry to run, but I’ll be back tomorrow night.”
“Okay.”
Boone walked to the front door and I hurried to hold it for him. “Wait, what about your things—in the guest room?”
“I’ve already packed up. It’s all in the car. Did it a little while ago. I tried to clean up after myself.”
I waved him off as he opened the car door. “I’m sure it’s fine,” I said. “See you soon.”
Boone’s car roared up the driveway.
I closed the door and turned to find Mac now standing with his briefcase in hand. “You too, huh?”
“Me too, what?” he asked, setting his bag down to give me a hug.
“You’re leaving right now too.”
“Yes. Why? Are you down here to see someone else off other than your adorable husband?”
“Boone just left.”
“What?” Mac hurried to the front window just in time to see Boone’s black sedan make the turn at the end of the lane. “Where’s he going?”
“Some sub-committee meeting or something. I told him he should just hitch a ride with you on our Gulfstream, but he had his own waiting at the airfield. I guess they just dropped off another Secret Service detail.”
“Sam.” He drew my name out in a whine. “Why did you tell him I was going back to Washington?”
“Because you are? I thought we were playing this off, business as usual?”
“Honey,” he said loud and clear. “Samantha, I’m not going anywhere.”
Suddenly I was confused. “What?”
Taking me by the arm, Mac led me through the kitchen and outside where Timms was waiting beside the black Mercedes with an open trunk. He motioned for me to follow him inside the car where Timms closed the door on us.
Now sitting inside the dark and quiet back seat, I stared at him, turning on the reading light to get a better look at him. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Look. You can’t trust anyone. I thought I made that perfectly clear, Sam. No one means no one. Not Boone—especially not Boone.” Mac leaned back in the seat and sighed. “Look, there’s at least one corrupt politician who’s used a young boy for sex and then tried to kill him. We’ve been able to make a little bit of headway into the anonymous server the website is using—at least enough to know there’s a trail. All we need to do is follow the money. But until I get to the bottom of this—until we know exactly who’s involved and how high up it goes, don’t trust anyone. Anyone.”
A shadow formed across Mac’s face and I watched him move. With a turn of his head, I could see black and blue marks around his neck. “What happened to you, Mac?” I asked, running my finger across his neck. He winced at my touch.
He bit down on his bottom lip. “Look, I’m fine.”
I gasped, placing my hand over my mouth. “Did someone strangle you? Oh my God. Someone tried to kill you?”
I sat back and looked at him. He’d said Frankie’s abduction hit close to home but seeing those marks on his throat …it was all too real now.
“Someone jumped me.”
“Where?”
“The brownstone.”
“What?”
“I’m cracking open a can of worms and it’s attached to a bunch of important and powerful people. Someone didn’t like me snooping around and tried to kill me.
I listened to his words, but I was having a hard time believing what he was saying. All I heard was, blah, blah, blah, someone tried to kill me.
“You think Boone had something to do with all of this?”
Mac took my hand again, trying to calm me. “I don’t know who is involved. But I know it’s best to assume everyone is until we can rule them out.”
I leaned against the car window and stared out into nothing. “Tell me who you want me to trust, Mac. You’re leaving me here to act as if everything is fine—but it’s not. If something goes down while you’re gone, who do you want me to trust? Because right now, I’m about to load a gun and just carry it around Lone Oak for the next thirty-six hours. I’m pretty sure I can find a thigh holster, and I know the ball gown I’m wearing tomorrow night will cover it just fine, so tell me who I can and can’t shoot.”
Mac smiled at me. “You know, you’re a scary southern woman, Samantha. I wouldn’t mess with you on a bet.”
“Well that’s a good plan, because right now I’m none too pleased with you either.”
“Jackman. Harlan Jackman. I trust him. He’s been helping me throughout the entire process. He knows what’s going on. Okay? I’m tossing this phone,” he said holding the burner phone in the air. “And the other one isn’t going to be operational for a while. Wait for me to call you. And I will call.”
I nodded. “You promise you’re coming home tomorrow?’
“I promise.”
“And you’re coming home alive with all your pieces and parts intact?”
“I surely need my parts, baby. I miss using my parts on you,” he said, leaning in to kiss my neck.
“Seriously, Mac. You’re thinking about that now?”
“Darlin’, I’m always thinkin’ about that. I’m always thinking about that and you. Consider it a compliment. I can’t be away from you.”
“Just promise.”
“I already did.”
I kissed him hard, taking his face in my hands, parting his lips with my tongue. When he moaned softly, I pulled away, resting my forehead against his. “Promise.”
“I’ll never leave you.”
I gave him a single nod before climbing out of the car to shut the door. Timms rolled down the window to give me a wink. “Timms,” I said, wiping a stray tear from my cheek. “Don’t let him do anything—you know—stupid.”
“I’ve been doing my best for over thirty years now, Miss Samantha.”
He rolled up the window and I tapped the back of the car as I walked away. Watching the car slowly pull out, I knew two things were certain: One, I trusted no one—not even Harlan Jackman, and two, I was heading to the gun safe. The Secret Service and FBI weren’t the only people who could wield a weapon with confidence and attitude.
I started out for the house and found Shelia the party planner directing a truck onto the back of the property, flagging it with her hands like she was landing a plane.
“Shelia,” I called to her.
“Hey, Samant
ha. Everything is going great—knock on wood—we haven’t had a hitch yet.”
“Wonderful. I was looking for Agent Harlan Jackman? He’s supposed to be in charge of security? Him and maybe someone from the Secret Service detail?”
“Ma’am.” A deep voice sounded out.
Turning, I was met with a hulk of a muscled man in a dark suit. He carried a gun, wore an earpiece and Ray Ban aviators. He was the quintessential man in black. I swallowed hard and replied. “Yes?”
“I’m Agent Martelli of the Secret Service. We got word a couple of days ago our point person, Mac Callahan was unavailable, but I’m happy to answer all your questions.”
I shook my head. “I don’t understand. I was told Agent Harlan Jackman was my contact.”
“When it comes to the President ma’am, it’s the Secret Service working the detail.”
“I see,” I mumbled to myself. “Well, Agent…” I paused. I’d already forgotten his name.
“Martelli.”
“Agent Martelli. Might I have your phone number?” I asked, pulling my phone from the back pocket of my jeans. “You know, just in case I need to ask you something as we get closer to Go time?”
“Yes ma’am.”
I handed him my phone and he quickly placed his name and phone number into my contacts. I starred his name as a VIP and before he had a chance to turn away from me, took his photograph.
I walked into the house and out the front door to check with the logistics people who were setting up for parking. The one and only blue car I’d seen Agent Jackman driving was no longer in my driveway.
“Excuse me,” I said to an agent standing on the front porch. “Do you know what happened to Agent Jackman? He was driving the blue Mustang—you know—not a sedan like everyone else.”
“Yes ma’am,” an agent piped up from below the porch. “He’s gone.”
“You wouldn’t happen to know if that car left before or after the black Mercedes, would you?”
He smiled. “I do, ma’am. The blue mustang arrived early this morning. The limo for Senator Henry was the first to leave, followed by the blue Mustang and then the black Mercedes.”
I popped my eyebrows in astonishment. “Wow. Are you sure?”
“It’s my job to be sure, ma’am.”
Instinctively, I pulled my phone from my pocket to call Mac and realized I couldn’t. I had no choice but to wait for him to call me. Something wasn’t right and I didn’t need a badge to know it.
22
MAC
I slept on the plane all the way to Dulles and woke only at the jolt of the wheels hitting the ground outside of D.C. Pulling a new burner phone from my pocket to check in with Elias, I looked to the pilot as I deplaned. “Keep her right here. I’m flying back tonight, or tomorrow early.”
“Yes, sir.”
With only my backpack to carry, I walked the tarmac and through the double doors that took me to the lobby of the executive lounge. There, I found at least twenty or so CEO’s and politicians waiting for their rent-a-jets to arrive so they could get on with their Fridays. Blowing through, I went straight for the front door and whistled for a taxi.
Once in the back seat, I shouted, “Four Seasons, Pennsylvania Avenue.”
I quickly dialed Elias’s phone and waited for him to pick up. “Who is this?” he asked.
“It’s Mac.”
“The package has been delivered,” Elias said on the other end.
“Eli, seriously man. You need to give up the jargon. Micah and Frankie are going to think you’re a prize idiot and I know you’re not. Act like you’ve got some sense.”
“We’re at the Four Seasons,” he said changing his tune. “Great suite by the way. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I replied. “It wasn’t for you. How is she? Let me speak with Micah.”
“Ah,” Elias took his voice to a whisper. “They’re both asleep in the bedroom. The doctor came and went, giving her a thumbs up. Rory and I ordered some room service. I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“Great,” I sighed. “What else is going on?”
“Well I didn’t tell you the whole reason we ordered food.”
“I’m dying to know, Elias. Why?” Sleep-deprived, I was beyond annoyed with everyone and everything.
“We needed brain fuel.”
“And?”
“Not over the phone.”
I let out a heavy sigh. “See you in twenty.”
I hung up, pulling the other phone safely sealed inside the portable silver Faraday bag Eli had given me from deep inside my backpack. Opening the bag, the phone rang immediately.
A two-oh-two number I didn’t recognize; at once, I thought Lars might be calling. “Callahan.” A silent pause filled my ear. “Hello?”
“Mac Callahan?”
“Yes? Who is this?”
“Meet me at the Senate Reflecting Pool, now. There’s a park bench under a lamp post. Come alone.”
The line went dead, and I held the phone away from my ear to look at the number one more time, memorizing it as it faded from the screen. Quickly, I did an online search. “Jeremiah Storm.” I said his name aloud.
“Change of plans,” I shouted over the seat to the taxi driver. “I need you to take me to the Capitol.”
The driver raised his eyebrows and let out a guffaw. “Sure thing, buddy. It’s your dime.”
I called Elias back. “Yes, Mac?”
“I’m making a quick pit stop before coming to the hotel. If Micah and Frankie wake up, let them know I’m on my way. And for God’s sake, don’t let them leave. If Frankie wants new clothes, tell Micah to get her something at the hotel store and charge it to the room.”
“Sure. How long do you think you’ll be? You know she’s going to ask me that question.”
“Not long. I just need to have a visit with someone first.”
Ten minutes of traffic later, I had the cabbie drop me outside the Capitol. As I paid him, I looked up at the building that housed so many powerful men and women. I had to wonder how many others were using darkcloset.com like Storm.
I walked to the fountain and watched it spew water as I cased the park. Inconspicuously passing a trashcan, I dropped the latest burner phone into the garbage. Then, I saw him. Dressed in a dark suit and sunglasses, Senator Jeremiah Storm sat on the second park bench directly under an unlit street lamp—reading a newspaper.
Casually, I walked in his direction, stopping to admire the fountain again, before turning to sit on the far end of his bench.
I sat without making eye contact, checking the area around us for anyone or anything. Surprisingly, we were alone.
“I know what you have on me,” Storm said without looking up from his Wall Street Journal.
“Oh?” I replied. “What’s that?”
He rustled the papers, folding them in his lap before taking a deep breath. “I want to be clear. It was the first and only time I’d ever used the service. And nothing happened. The boy got sick.” He spoke calmly, never looking at me, but staring straight ahead into the fountain.
“And you threw him out of your moving limo.” I dropped my forearms to rest on my knees and watched the water. “Damn near ended him. And when that didn’t do the trick, you threatened to kill him all over again.”
“Look,” he said, turning his body to face me. “I’ve given my life to Washington. I’ve got a wife and kids—hell, I have grandchildren. I couldn’t take a risk that anything would come of it.”
“And now?”
“Now, I’m being pressured to follow a protocol. We stick together and deny all of it. We emerge the victimized people of a terrible Russian hack trying to clean the house of those who oppose their policies.”
“So why are you talking to me?”
“Because there will still be a fall guy. Newspapers and networks will smell Pulitzer and start digging. I’ll be fed to the wolves because I’m an easy target—I left a trail. And the sad thing is, I’ve never done anythin
g like this. Ever. I should’ve known I’d get caught. That’s the way it works, you know. You do your best in life and in one moment of weakness, you falter. The pros who know how to be underhanded lying bastards never get caught. They’re smarter.”
“I don’t know about that.”
I stared the man up and down. For as much as I wanted to hate him for nearly killing a drugged up kid forced to sell his body, I didn’t need to. It was evident he hated himself. Now, Jeremiah Storm had bigger problems than Brady Kurtz staring him in the face. “Why am I here, Senator Storm?”
He took a deep breath. “Because I don’t want to do it anymore. I’m old and I’m done. And even though I won’t be remembered for any of the good I’ve tried my best to accomplish here on Capitol Hill—only the fact I paid for a young boy to join me in the back of my limo one stupid night—I want to come clean. I’ll tell my wife tonight and then I’ll turn myself in tomorrow.”
“Why?” It seemed the obvious question to me. If he’d gotten away with it as long as he had, why not deny until he was forced to tell the truth?
“I’ll be the one who is blamed—I’m the goat—an easy target. I’ve been around a long time, but I don’t have favors and blackmail to call in like the others. And if I’m going down for soliciting a sex act, but not committing one, and they have been using this service for years, I’m taking a few people with me.”
“Such as?” I asked, knowing he was lying to me. Brady had said Storm was new, but he also said he’d performed oral sex on him in the limo.
Storm looked at me and for the first time forced a smile. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, son. All in good time.”
“I appreciate you telling me this, but time is something I don’t have. With all due respect, you’ve apparently known what was going on with these kids for years. If you stood by and let it happen, then in my book, you’re just as guilty as the men who used the service on a regular basis. So, either you break the story yourself and take whomever you want down with you, or I’ll do it for you.”
“Is that a threat, Agent Callahan?”
“It’s a fact, Senator Storm. With or without you, I will bust this wide open. You have twenty-four hours to tell your wife and turn yourself in. If you don’t, I can guarantee we’ll be seeing each other again.”