Above Reproach

by Lynn Ames

  “What is it?” Lorraine asked.

  “It’s more or less a ‘Wanted Dead or Dead’ poster.”

  “What?” Peter asked.

  Vaughn read the document a second time. “It’s an order, written in English, to kill her on sight.” The bile rose in her throat.

  “Why would they not want to take her alive? Arrest her?” Sabastien asked.

  “Because,” Peter said, “they don’t want her to talk.”

  Vaughn’s head spun. She thought she would be sick.

  Sedona’s head throbbed. Tentatively, she opened one eye. Vaughn’s concerned face swam into view. Sedona tried to sit up, but Vaughn restrained her with a gentle hand on her chest. “W-wha—?”

  “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay,” Vaughn said, hovering over her.

  Sedona could have sworn she saw a tear on Vaughn’s cheek. She opened the other eye. “Are you”—Sedona coughed and searing pain shot through her chest—“crying?”

  Vaughn put a comforting hand on her shoulder, as Sedona caught her breath. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Vaughn rubbed her cheek against her sleeve.

  “I saw that. W-what hap…happened? W-where am I?”

  “You got shot in the heart,” Vaughn said, laughing and crying at the same time. “Fortunately for you, the sniper picked the one place you’re apparently invulnerable.”

  As if, Sedona thought, groggily. “If y-you’re talking to me”—she coughed again and Vaughn stroked her cheek—“then I must not be dead.”

  “You’re tough to kill.” Vaughn reached behind Sedona for something. When she settled back down, she had Sedona’s Improved Outer Tactical Vest in her hand. There was a bullet lodged in the left chest area.

  “Oh.” Sedona tried to process that someone shot her in the heart. Were it not for that vest, she would be dead right now. She lifted her hand and let her fingers run over her heart. The area was painfully tender and even the slight pressure made her gasp.

  “Justine left some pain meds for you. Let me get you some water.”

  “No.” Sedona shook her head, but the motion made her dizzy. “W-why does my head hurt so much?”

  “Your head hit the road. You’ve got a pretty good concussion. Your chest is bruised. That’s why it’s so painful. Even though the vest caught the bullet, you still felt the impact of the round.” Vaughn’s voice caught and she turned away.

  “I th-thought you were a t-tough girl,” Sedona teased. She reached out for Vaughn’s hand and intertwined their fingers. “B-by the w-way, w-where are we?”

  “Your friend Ahmed’s home.” Vaughn said it with distaste. “It wouldn’t have been my first choice, but we had to get you somewhere safe and out of sight so you could rest and we could regroup.”

  “Oh,” Sedona mumbled as she drifted off.

  The president slapped the spiral-bound briefing book Homeland Security Secretary Daniel Hart sent him on the table in front of him. “Disgusting piece of fiction.” He slid the book across the table to Kate.

  She read as Jay looked over her shoulder. “I give him points for inventiveness.”

  “And embellishment,” Jay added.

  “I’d really like to have him marched out of his office in handcuffs right now in front of his entire staff.”

  “As satisfying as that might be in the short-term, sir…”

  “I know.” The president sighed. “We’re better served waiting until we have more information and a handle on the scope of this thing.”

  Before the president could say another word, a phone buzzed from inside his pants pocket. He pulled it out quickly and glanced at the caller ID. He held up a finger to Kate and Jay to signal that they should wait.

  “This is the president.”

  “Sir, this is Vaughn Elliott.”

  “Yes, Vaughn. I’m going to put you on speaker. I’ve got Kate Kyle and Jay Parker here with me. They’ve been very helpful on this end.” The president put the phone on the desk and hit the speaker button. “Go ahead, Vaughn.”

  “Sir, we’ve run into some complications.”

  “We’re listening.”

  “Without going into too much detail, sir, we’ve come under extraordinary scrutiny. There are patrols everywhere, all tasked with finding the terror suspect.”

  “I’m not surprised,” the president said. He leaned over the phone. “Homeland Security Secretary Hart has been very thorough and quite…inventive. It seems he and NSA Deputy Director Orlando Niger are old army buddies. We believe they are in this together, although it looks as though there might be more players.”

  “Understood, sir. But the patrols are not our biggest problem. Sedo—um, someone got shot on our way to our final destination, sir.”

  The president heard the catch in Vaughn’s voice. It mirrored the sinking feeling he had in his gut. Across from him, he saw Kate and Jay grasp hands. Their faces were ashen. He imagined his was too. “Is she—”

  “Lucky to be alive, sir. Military vest caught the bullet to the heart. She’s got a concussion and a badly bruised chest, but otherwise is okay.”

  “Thank God.”

  “The shooter was a professional—an American private contractor, sir.”

  “What’s his status?”

  “Gone. Peter took him out right before he got the round off that would’ve been for Sedon—the target’s forehead. But, sir? The biggest problem is what was on his person. He had documentation indicating that the objective was not to take any prisoners.”

  The president blinked. “Are you saying—”

  “Dead only, sir. The order was kill on sight without question. A bounty was attached.”

  The president slumped down in the nearest chair. “Oh, my God.”

  “They’re trying to make sure she can’t talk,” Kate said.

  “Yes,” Vaughn confirmed.

  “With the terrorist designation, they can’t guarantee that,” Jay said, indignantly. “If a legitimate military unit arrested her, they wouldn’t kill her unless she posed an imminent threat. They would take her into custody. What would Hart do about that?”

  “We’ve been wondering the same thing,” Vaughn said. “And that brings me to the reason I’m calling.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “We think having her arrested might give us our best chance.”

  “What did you say?” the president asked.

  “You don’t really mean that,” Kate said.

  “Not precisely,” Vaughn said. “But if Secretary Hart thought she’d been arrested…”

  Jay jumped up. “It’s brilliant!” She clapped her hands together. “Sir, if you tell Secretary Hart that you’ve been informed personally of Sedona’s arrest, he’ll go wild trying to get to her before she can talk.”

  “Okay,” the president said.

  “If you publicly announce her arrest, sir, it boxes Hart into a corner,” Kate said. “He’d have to call off the terrorist alert.”

  “Or I could do it myself,” the president said. “That would take the official heat off your team, Vaughn.”

  “It certainly would help, sir. Then we’d just have to worry about the private contractors that are no doubt guarding our target. It would mean that our chances of reaching our destination would be much improved.”

  “It also would give you more incriminating evidence on Secretary Hart if he starts to lose his cool,” Jay pointed out.

  The president shook his head. “He can always hide behind the explanation that he wants to personally oversee this very dangerous suspect’s treatment.”

  “Still, it would have him chasing his tail for a while, sir,” Kate said.

  “If you really did arrest a suspect like that, where would you send her, sir? If you can say,” Jay asked.

  “Most likely a US airbase in Kuwait,” the president said. “But I don’t want Hart leaving the country, in case we have to take him into custody.”

  “You could always give him an assignment that required him to st
ay in town, sir,” Jay suggested. “That might frustrate him even more.”

  “Remind me never to piss you off, Jay,” the president said, laughing.

  “Vaughn?” Kate asked.

  “Yeah?”

  “I assume you’re in a safe place?”

  “For now,” Vaughn said. “But I don’t want to push our luck for too long.”

  “I hear you. How soon do you anticipate your team will be ready to move forward?”

  “Probably within twenty-four hours.”

  “So I need to move quickly on the arrest announcement,” the president said.

  “That would be very helpful, sir,” Vaughn agreed. “The sooner, the better.”

  The president looked at his watch. “I still have time to call a hasty news conference for this afternoon and have it hit all the major news outlets for the evening news and for the morning papers.”

  “The fact that it’s a rush would lend credence to the idea that this is a breaking development,” Kate said. “That’s good. Very good.”

  “The timing would work out well for us, sir, since that means by morning we should be clear to move out.”

  “I’ll do it within the hour,” the president said. “A shame I won’t have time to consult with Secretary Hart before the news conference, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, sir,” Jay said.

  “Is there anything else you need on this end, Vaughn?” the president asked.

  “Not right now, sir. Peter has made contact with a…more local expert on raw uranium. We didn’t want to risk bringing in an American expert without knowing how far this thing goes.”

  “Understood. Which reminds me, tell Peter we have his partner Max running surveillance on Hart right now.”

  “Anything interesting, sir?” Vaughn asked.

  “A meeting with Niger in which they discussed fabricating the internal affairs report that led to the terrorist designation. Otherwise, just a series of meetings on Capitol Hill, which goes with his position, and a meeting with a high-priced defense attorney named Stanley Davidson.”

  “Maybe he’s anticipating needing Davidson’s services,” Vaughn cracked.

  “Maybe,” the president agreed. “Anyway, we’ll continue to watch him and see what develops on this side of the world.”

  “Once we get in, Sabastien will be able to send you real-time images, sir, along with on-the-spot analysis from the uranium expert.”

  “Excellent.”

  “Vaughn?”

  “Yes, Jay?”

  “Is she going to be all right?”

  “For now.” There was some noise in the background. “If there’s nothing else, sir, I really need to get going.”

  “Right,” the president said. He checked his watch again. “Just as well. I have a news conference to call.”

  “Thank you for your assistance, sir.”

  “Thank you, Vaughn. I appreciate everything you and your team are doing out there. Stay safe.”

  “That’s one of the goals, sir. Bye.”

  “Godspeed, Vaughn.” The line disconnected. The president put the phone back in his pocket.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the press,” the president began. He was standing behind the lectern in the White House pressroom. All the major networks and cable news stations were carrying his remarks live. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. I’m going to make a brief statement here. I will not be taking questions.”

  The president waited for the whir of the cameras to abate and the members of the broadcast media who had been doing live reports to settle down.

  “At approximately ten fifteen p.m., Iraqi time, that’s less than an hour ago, at my personal direction, an elite Special Operations Task Force, hand-picked by me, took into custody an American citizen and wanted terrorist. As you know, for the past week, our forces and our allies around the world have been on high alert, looking for Sedona Ramos, who is believed to be an imminent threat to our national security.

  “Ms. Ramos was arrested without incident inside a private residence in Baghdad, where it is believed she had arranged to meet with leaders of al-Qaeda in Iraq. I am assured that the meeting never took place.” The president paused for effect and made eye contact with several of the better-known journalists in the room.

  “It is not our practice to comment on the details of such operations for obvious reasons, and I will not do so now. I am very proud of my team. These highly skilled warriors put themselves in harm’s way for the good of our nation and our people, and we owe them a debt of gratitude. We are all safer for their heroic efforts. Thank you.”

  As the president stepped away from the podium and waved, he could hear the shouted questions.

  “Where is Ramos now, sir?”

  “Mr. President, what did she know?”

  “Were there any leaders of al-Qaeda in Iraq present? Were any of them taken prisoner?”

  The president waved one more time and disappeared out the door. He gave a perfunctory nod to his press secretary and the other members of his staff standing nearby, all of whom wanted his attention, and headed directly for the private residence, where Kate and Jay were waiting.

  When he arrived, he removed his suit jacket and loosened his tie. “What did you think?”

  “It was masterful, sir,” Kate said. Her smile was wide. “You stuck remarkably close to the truth in many places, and that will be important for later on, when you’re ready to reveal the actual story.”

  “I have no doubt that, wherever he is right now, Secretary Hart is going apoplectic,” Jay said.

  “I hope you’re right, Jay,” the president said. “I sincerely hope you’re right.”

  “I didn’t know a fucking thing about it!” Daniel Hart boomed into the phone. “How is that possible? I want to know why I wasn’t read into the mission and I want to know now.”

  The volume was so loud that Max Kingston had to hold the listening device away from his ear. This was Hart’s third call since the president finished speaking. First, he called the secretary of defense and then it was the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

  “You’re the director of the fucking CIA, what do you mean you weren’t consulted?”

  Max used a joystick to adjust the angle of Hart’s hacked webcam so he could watch Hart imploding.

  “If you’re lying to me, so help me God…” He slammed the receiver down and made a lewd gesture with his finger. “Shit!” He picked up what appeared to be a stress ball and threw it across the room.

  “Mr. Secretary?”

  The executive assistant’s voice sounded distorted to Max, filtered as it was through Hart’s office intercom.

  Hart hit the intercom key. “What?”

  “I have NSA Deputy Director Niger on line two for you, sir.”

  “Tell him to go fuck himself,” Hart muttered to himself, before depressing the intercom key again. “Tell him I’m busy.”

  “I did, sir. He’s very insistent. Frankly, sir, he sounds a bit frazzled.”

  Hart looked for something else to throw. This time, he counted to three before pushing the intercom button. “Put him through.”

  “I don’t have time for you,” Hart said. Without waiting for Niger to ask, he added, “And no, I don’t know anything. Don’t call me again. I’ll get in touch with you. Not the other way around.” Again, Hart slammed down the receiver.

  “Agnes?” Hart bellowed into the intercom. “Get me an appointment with the president. Right now. I don’t care what it takes. I need to see him.”

  Wayne Grayson finished watching the president’s news conference in the tiny recreation room at the end of his cellblock. His hands twisted together so tightly they tingled from lack of circulation. When the broadcast was over, he found the nearest guard. “I want to make a phone call.”

  “It’s after hours for calls.”

  “Don’t give me that bullshit. It’s a power play and you know it. It’s no skin off your nose to g
ive me five minutes of phone time.”

  The guard folded his arms over his chest.

  Grayson played his ace. “How’s your mother feeling? Is that new hip working out for her? What a shame she had to wait so long. It’s a crime how much they charge the uninsured.” He tutted. “Sure glad I could help out with that.”

  The guard frowned. “Five minutes.”

  “Thanks.” Grayson smirked. “I’ll be talking to my lawyer, so attorney-client privilege applies.”

  The guard shook his head. “Sure it does.”

  Grayson went to the phone bank and dialed the collect call to Stanley Davidson.

  “Davidson.”

  “Stanley. I was very disappointed with the president’s press conference just now.” When Davidson didn’t reply, Grayson said, “Are you there, Stanley?”

  “I’m here. I’m sure you were, Mr. Grayson.”

  “What are we doing about that?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I said,” Grayson raised his voice, “what are we doing about it?”

  “I don’t know what you want me to say here.”

  “I want you to say that Hart knows where the fuck this woman is and that he’s taking steps to make sure she can’t talk.”

  “I haven’t talked to Daniel, sir.”

  “Take care of it, Stanley. Now. Remember what I said—no loose ends.”

  “I’ll make a phone call.”

  Grayson disconnected the call and shuffled back to his cell.

  A Steyr rifle in her hands, Vaughn stood in the doorway of Ahmed’s home looking out at the pitch black, silent village. She scanned up and down the street, looking for and expecting trouble. Justine came up alongside her.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” Vaughn’s eyes never left the street.

  Justine touched her arm. “She’s going to be fine, you know. Her chest will be bruised and sore for a week or two and she’ll probably still have a headache for the next twenty-four hours, but other than that, she’s a lucky girl.”

  Vaughn spared a quick glance at her friend. “Thanks for taking care of her.”