The President's Daughter

by Annette Broadrick

  The look she gave him was filled with disdain. “Of course. Trish is a heavy sleeper, anyway. I won’t need much light to find everything.”

  He looked at his watch. “You have twenty minutes. It’s cold outside, so bundle up. I’ll go warm up the van.” He finished his coffee and walked out of the kitchen without looking back.

  Ashley looked at the door, and said, “I better go get packed. If I’m not ready in twenty minutes, he’ll probably leave without me.”

  Ron smiled broadly. “Somehow I doubt that very much. Ashley, just try to remember that Nick is doing his job the best way—the only way—he knows how. I’m sorry he upsets you. I’ll admit the guy doesn’t know much about relaxing. This may have been a vacation for you, but it’s his job and he takes his job seriously.”

  “Oh, I don’t have a problem with that. The problem I have with Nick Logan is that he takes himself entirely too seriously.”

  “Well, you won’t have to put up with either one of us for much longer. Once we’re back home, there will be others who, perhaps, will make you feel more comfortable.”

  She reached over and touched Ron’s hand with hers. “I’m sorry, Ron. Please don’t think this is about you. You’ve been so much fun, willing to join in even when you don’t ski. Your attitude actually proves my point. There was no reason why Nick couldn’t have relaxed and enjoyed himself, as well, instead of being so officious all the time.”

  “Well, like it or not, our time here in the Rockies is pretty much done. You’d better go get ready, okay?”

  She nodded and slid out of the banquette. Ron was right. She would have to take all of this up with her father when she got back. He’d better have a darned good reason for causing her to miss another two days of skiing, plus the New Year’s Eve party.

  Ashley silently went upstairs and slipped into the bedroom. Luckily Trish slept near the windows while Ashley’s bed was close to the door and the bathroom. She quickly dressed, then went into the bathroom and gathered her things, placing them in her bag. She removed the clothing she’d placed in drawers and the closet, then slipped out once again.

  Trish never stirred.

  Ron was waiting for her when she got downstairs. He took her bag and backpack from her, helped her with her parka, then ushered her out the door, silently closing it behind them.

  When they reached the van, Ron opened the sliding door and helped her into the backseat, stowing her luggage with theirs, then closed the door and got into the passenger side of the front seat. Nick was already behind the wheel.

  He looked up at the clouds in disgust and wished the weather people would get it right. They’d practically promised clear skies for a good skiing day. Instead, their possibility of more snow was showing a very strong probability.

  Nick had written down the directions, then had reviewed them while he was waiting for Ashley. He took his time; he didn’t want to do anything to alarm Ashley.

  The headlights of the van eventually illuminated the sign that announced they were approaching the regional airport. The road into the area had been freshly graded. No lights were visible in any of the ground buildings.

  He spotted a small tower up ahead. He drove toward a dark building located near the runway. No one was stirring, which wasn’t surprising. They were early.

  “The place looks deserted,” Ron said quietly. “Shouldn’t there be some landing lights or something?”

  “They wait until the approaching plane radios for instructions for landing beforeturning them on.”

  “Oh.”

  Nick allowed the van to roll forward along the narrow road that ran parallel to the landing strip. They would leave the van parked by the hangar for now. He’d call Sam once they were on their way and let him know where to pick up their transportation.

  He never knew, consciously, what triggered a warning signal, but suddenly the hair on the back of his neck rose. Ron leaned forward in the seat, peering through the windshield, staring ahead. “I don’t know about this, Nick. It doesn’t look—”

  That was when Nick saw the tiny red light of a scope being trained into the van. He yelled, “Get down!” at the same time that he stepped on the accelerator. He heard the ominous sound of glass shattering and the distinctive thud of a bullet entering flesh.

  Ashley screamed.

  “Ashley!”

  “I’m okay, I’m okay! It’s Ron! I think he was hit!”

  Icy wind blew in through the shattered window, sucking out the warmth of the van as it barreled along the road, gaining speed. They had to get back to the highway, but Nick sure as hell didn’t want to take a chance of returning by the hangar.

  Nick spotted a side road and turned the wheel sharply, heading back to the highway. In the rearview mirror he saw lights flash on at the same time a powerful engine came on. Whoever was shooting at them was not giving up.

  Nick threw a brief glance toward Ron. He couldn’t see much in the dim lights from the dash. Ron was slumped toward him.

  “Ron? Talk to me, man. Where are you hit?”

  Thank God there was no traffic on the highway. Nick didn’t slow down any more than was absolutely necessary when he turned onto the highway. The van rocked, not being made for this kind of driving—nor high-speed chases.

  He glanced into the rearview mirror once again and saw the car pull smoothly onto the highway behind them.

  How far out of town were they? he wondered. He wished he’d gone to town with the group yesterday. He needed some idea of the layout of the place. He knew there was a medical facility there—a necessity in a ski area.

  How badly was Ron hurt?

  “Ron?” he said again. “Can you hear me?” He wanted to touch him but didn’t dare take his hands off the wheel at the moment. “Where did those bas— Where did they hit you, man?”

  The car behind them was steadily gaining on them.

  Ashley answered him. “He’s unconscious.” She was reaching across the seat toward Ron when Nick caught a brief glimpse of her in the mirror. “I think—”

  “Get the hell down in the floor and stay there!” Nick ordered. He heard Ashley move and could only hope she would follow orders.

  At least the van was equipped with a powerful engine. He planted his foot to the floor and followed the winding road back to the town they had just passed through.

  Watching the lights behind him, he saw that they were staying with him. “Damn,” he muttered.

  At least they weren’t gaining. At this point, he would take any advantage he could get. The road was straightening out some. He took a chance that it would stay that way. He needed to find some backup. And fast.

  Nick fumbled for the cellular phone in his pocket and punched the speed-dial number that would connect him to the local agency. There was someone there twenty-four hours a day.

  Now there was no answer.

  He didn’t have Sam’s number handy and wouldn’t be able to see to use it at the moment.

  What in the hell was going on?

  Somebody had been waiting for them back there. They had walked into a trap. Only blind luck had gotten them away. He had no idea if Ron was dead or alive. Nor did he have any certainty for their chances in the near future.

  Somebody had set them up. The question was who—and why. They may not live long enough to find out, but he was going to do what he could. Risking yet another maneuver that took his hand from the wheel, he reached over and touched the slumped figure beside him. His fingers came away wet.

  With his eyes on the road he checked for a pulse and was relieved to find one, but from the look of things, Ron was losing a lot of blood. Something would have to be done fast, despite the fact that his first priority was to protect Ashley.

  The lights of the town shone up ahead and Nick took a moment to take a deep breath. They weren’t out of the woods yet, not so long as those yo-yos were behind him, but he was feeling a little better with every mile gained toward help.

  Chapter 8

  Ron moa
ned and moved his head slightly.

  “Hang on,” Nick said quietly. “We’re almost there.”

  They had reached the out skirts of town. Nick looked for a sign that would direct them to a hospital. When he saw the distinctive marker with an arrow pointing to the right, he took the corner in a controlled skid, praying there was some alert law-enforcement officer around who might be interested in discussing his driving habits.

  He wanted all the attention he could get from a uniformed cop.

  As though his mind had conjured it up, a patrol car came wheeling out of a side street with lights flashing. The car that had followed them to town suddenly lost interest and immediately turned the other way.

  He tried to identify the make and model, but all Nick saw was rapidly diminishing tail lights. The car appeared to be a large, dark town car.

  Ignoring the flashing lights coming up behind him, Nick drove toward the emergency entrance of the hospital without slowing down until he reached the well-lit entrance, where he came to a skidding stop.

  He threw open his door and sprinted to the car behind him. The officer was already out of the car, but paused in the opening of his door with his hand resting on the revolver strapped to his waist.

  “I’ve got a man wounded in my car,” Nick said. “It was some kind of drive-by shooting.” Then he flipped open his federal ID. “Or it may be something more. He’s my partner. We have the president’s daughter with us and we’re trying to get her back to D.C.”

  The patrolman looked to be in his late forties and wore his gray hair in a crew cut. Nick watched him study the ID. Please let this officer have some field experience, Nick prayed. He was reassured by the cool, assessing gaze of the older man.

  “Let’s get him inside,” was all the officer said.

  While the patrolman went into the hospital to get help, Nick hurried back to the passenger side of the van. He opened the sliding door for Ashley, then the passenger door to check on Ron.

  “Is he going to be all right?” she asked in a shaky voice as she slowly exited the van. “I don’t understand. Why was someone shooting at us?”

  There was blood seeping through a hole in the back of Ron’s parka where the bullet had gone into the right side of his body. There was also blood on his chest, which told Nick the bullet had passed through him, ripping a much larger hole in his chest.

  Every minute was going to count if they were going to stop Ron from bleeding to death.

  He stepped back when the ER personnel arrived with a gurney. He offered his hand to Ashley. When she clasped it, her fingers were icy and her hand was trembling. Ashley was trembling so she could scarcely stand. From the light being cast around the emergency entrance, he could see there was no color in her face at all.

  “Are you going to be able to walk inside on your own, or do you want me to carry you?” he asked quietly.

  She stiffened. “I’m not hurt. Of course I can walk.”

  The small burst of temper helped to put a touch of color in her cheeks.

  They went into the hospital and were met by one of the nurses. “Can you give us any information on this man?” she asked, scribbling on a clipboard.

  “All I know about him is that he’s been shot and needs help,” he replied tersely. He gripped Ashley’s arm just above the elbow. “Where’s your waiting room?” He held up his ID to the nurse and her eyes widened.

  “Right through those doors,” she replied, pointing.

  He propelled Ashley through the doors.

  “Wait. We’ve got to see about Ron. We’ve got to…”

  He continued to guide her into a waiting area that luckily was empty at this hour. “Look, Ashley, Ron is now in the hands of trained medics. If anyone can help him, they will, okay? Right now, we’ve got a more serious problem.”

  She stared at him as though convinced he’d lost his mind. “What could be more serious than Ron’s getting shot?”

  “Finding out who was shooting is just as important. And why. What were they doing at the airport? And who were they aiming at?” He kept his gaze on hers, willing her to listen to him and understand the gravity of what happened tonight. “Now, I want you to sit down and wait right here for me, okay? I’ve got to make some phone calls and try to get some answers.” He paused and looked around the dreary room with impatience. “And somehow I’ve got to get you back to Washington.”

  Ashley sank into one of the chairs. “This doesn’t have anything to do with me, does it? Or does it? Is there something you aren’t telling me?” She jumped to her feet. “I want to talk to my dad. He’s got to know that—”

  “Not now, Ashley. There’s no reason to disturb him at this time of night.”

  “But none of this makes sense! Why does he want me back in Washington when he isn’t even there? They’re all on the Gulf somewhere. What are you trying to do, anyway? Are you kidnapping me?”

  “Ashley, you’re getting hysterical and I’d hate like hell to slap you, but I’m certainly willing to if you keep this up.”

  She took several gulping breaths and put her hands up as though to ward him off. In a calmer voice she said, “All I’m saying is that none of this makes sense—flying back to D.C. early, Ron being shot. I want to talk to my family,” she added in a firm voice. “There is nothing hysterical about that.”

  He sat down on the sagging sofa beside the chair where she’d first sat, nodding to the chair and waiting until she seated herself before saying anything. “All right, Ashley. I’ll give it to you straight. We were going to wait until we were on board the plane, but all those plans have gone out the window for now, so—”

  “Something has happened to my family!” she said in a rush. “Oh, my gosh, that’s it, isn’t it?”

  “We aren’t sure, but yes, that’s the way things are shaping up. We lost communication with their ship. It may be nothing—nothing at all. But the vice president felt it wiser to have you back in Washington. So that’s what we’re trying to do.”

  He watched her as she tried to deal with the information he’d been forced to convey to her. He had to admit that she handled herself well. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she quickly brushed them away. He could see the struggle she made to gain control of her emotions.

  After a few minutes she said, “So what do we do now?” with only a slight hitch to her voice.

  “I want you to wait here while I find out what I can about Ron. I’ve got to make some phone calls and figure out how to get you back home as quickly and as safely as possible.” He stood and looked down at her. “I believe you’re safe enough right here, but if for any reason you feel threatened, go to the ER and ask for me. I’ll check back as soon as I know something.”

  “I don’t want Ron to die,” she whispered.

  “Neither do I.”

  “My family’s safe. I know they are. It’s probably some silly fuse or something that went out on the radio. I bet if I called, I could get through to Dad right now.”

  “You can try if it will make you feel any better.” Nick would dearly love to have someone answer a phone call from that yacht.

  Ashley dug into her purse and got her phone card, then determinedly went over to the pay phone across the room from them.

  Nick took that opportunity to slip into the hall and check his phone numbers. He would call Sam and see if he could get some help.

  Unfortunately he got Sam’s answering device. Not a good sign. All agents knew they could be called at any time. Nick didn’t have another number for Sam, besides the office, which still didn’t answer.

  Before calling Chambers, the detail leader in Washington, he wanted to find out how Ron was doing, so he headed back to the ER to find out what he could. He spotted the patrolman waiting in the lobby.

  “I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself earlier,” the man said. “The name’s Harvey Cameron.”

  Nick held out his hand. “Nick Logan. Thanks for your help. Have you heard anything about my partner?”

 
Harvey nodded. “He’s in surgery, and if all goes well, he should recover. He lost a lot of blood, but they were able to stop the bleeding. The bullet passed through his chest.”

  “Yes, that’s what I figured happened.”

  “They want to do some repair work on him. They were already pumping new blood into him when they wheeled him by.”

  “Was he conscious?”

  “Naw. They might have already given him something, I don’t know. Why? Do you think he has some information for us?”

  “Not really. He’d leaned forward in the seat, which means they probably were aiming for me and he blocked the shot.”

  “Why you?”

  Nick shrugged. “I was driving.”

  Harvey had a notebook in his hand and was making notes. “Do you think whoever was shooting knew Miss Sullivan was in the van with you?”

  “I’ve got to believe they did. Why else were they at that particular airport, where we were told to take her to meet a private plane? For all I know, she may have been the target. Until we know who did it, we won’t know who they were after or why.”

  “Looks to me like you’re going to need some backup here.”

  “You’re telling me. Somehow I don’t think I’m going to get it from my group. There seems to be a communication break down between me and the local headquarters.”

  “What do you need?”

  Nick looked out the front door and saw the van with its broken window. “Whoever’s out there expects us to be in that van. So my first thought is to take Miss Sullivan somewhere safe in a car that won’t be recognized.”

  “Any ideas where to take her?”

  Nick was quiet for a few minutes, then nodded. “Actually, yes. My family has a cabin not too far from here. Not too many people know about it. Although I doubt the road into that area has been cleared lately. The road used to be a logging road and there aren’t many houses out that way.” He thought for a moment. “I guess the best thing would be to get some cross-country skis and go in that way.”