by T. F. Jacobs
We start at the White House, but it’s too busy.
We move on to the colossal Lincoln Memorial, but it has nowhere for Aly to keep watch. Next we stop by the Washington Monument, but it isn’t busy enough. We go to Freedom Plaza, which is busy and open, but maybe too open, with no good places to sit. Then we try Pershing Park.
We walk alongside a man-made square pond. Barren trees line the entire stretch. A series of steps lead down into a courtyard of cement tables bordering the pond.
There are dozens of people walking and sitting on the steps overlooking the water.
The courtyard has some benches and tables that may work for our meeting, but the view from the steps above may be covered by too many trees.
The steps on either side of the pond look better. Connelly, Jones, Evan, and I can take a seat on one of the steps overlooking the pond, and Aly can capture the entire thing from the other side.
I count twenty-six people sitting on the steps, and we are at the end of the day. I’d bet we’ll have just as many people tomorrow.
Each of us is silent, but we all know what the other is thinking: this is the place.
I dial Connelly, and he answers after one ring.
“What do you got?”
“Pershing Park. Tomorrow morning. Eight a.m.”
“We’ll be there.”
“Remember, you try anything, and the files leak.”
He wants to say something, but he holds his breath.
“See you tomorrow, son.”
He hangs up.
Something about the way he said “son” makes me nervous. I can’t put my finger on it, but the way he said it tells me he has a plan.
Back at the hotel we order turkey club sandwiches with fries from room service and continue sifting through the files.
My chest has been heavy all day. The danger we’re in is all my fault. Brit being deported. Dominique’s death. It’s because of me. And as much as I want to win this case, I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.
“Look. If you guys have any doubts about this, you should back out now.”
Aly looks up after sliding a fry into her mouth. Her eyes drift to Evan.
Evan’s sipping on the straw of a Coke.
“Bro. I got your back. It’s the least I can do for you and Lexi. Plus, this will be the biggest article I’ll ever write in my life. It’ll be the biggest article anyone does.”
I nod. “Thanks, Evan.”
I turn to Aly.
“I volunteered for this. Sure, I didn’t think I’d be putting my life on the line, but I have to do this. For all the patients Dr. Constance has wronged. For Anne’s death.”
I assume Anne is the woman who committed suicide after she couldn’t afford the bills the doctor sent her.
“Okay then. We need to be vigilant. Let’s get some sleep soon. We start bright and early.”
Our hotel room has two double beds, so I turn to Aly and say, “You can take your own bed, and Evan and I can share.”
“I don’t bite,” she quips.
I laugh.
“I do,” Evan adds.
We all laugh.
“I’ll take my chances.”
I wonder if she was serious. Does she want me in bed with her? Surely she’s joking.
We each get ready, and a half hour later, it’s lights out.
The queen-size bed isn’t nearly as comfortable as the ones American True Care has put me up in. And Evan has kicked me at least six times.
I also can’t say I’m a fan of having his open mouth just a foot away. But it’s just one night.
I toss and turn in the scratchy linens, unable to find the right spot.
Anxiety has taken over.
I’m so close.
But still something nags at me. There’s something I am overlooking, and I just can’t put my finger on it.
I hear rustling across the room. I roll over, then peer through the dark at the lump on the other mattress. With no space left on the bed, I rest my arm on the nightstand.
Through the darkness, I spot a pair of eyes watching me. She’s awake too.
“I don’t know if I can sleep,” she whispers.
“Me neither.”
She sighs.
“You scared?” she asks
“Scared of the unknown. I can’t help but think I’m overlooking something.”
Evan lets out a nasal snort. Sleep clearly isn’t an issue for him.
We both laugh under our breath.
She considers what I said and rolls around in her covers a bit.
I continue, “I want to win so badly. I’ve fought so hard. Crossed lines I didn’t think I ever would in a million years.”
She forms a half smile, then reaches her hand over the nightstand and rests it atop mine. A gesture of understanding.
My hand doesn’t move from under hers.
Her eyes fix on me, and I can tell we both feel something.
I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I don’t think she does either.
But at this moment, we’re in it together, two kites in a storm.
It’s a while before she lets go, and her eyes begin to close. And shortly after, mine do too.
Chapter 16
Evan and I are in position.
It’s 7:58 a.m.
DC has a nip in the air that’s foreign to Los Angeles, especially on a clear blue February morning.
I can barely feel my face, and my fingers are turning numb. My breath is visible in front of me.
We left the hotel before Aly on purpose. She took the hotel’s back exit, wearing something inconspicuous to hide her face, ten minutes after we left.
I notice her across from us on a step two from the top. Her head is down, and she’s wearing jeans and a gray hoodie pulled over her head.
Pershing Park is loud. Kids are playing behind us, screaming as they run mindlessly in circles.
There are birds chirping in the trees, couples talking, and cars flying by on the street behind us. The city is alive.
If Connelly and Jones want to take us out, there will be a hell of a lot of witnesses.
Yet there’s still some dot I haven’t connected, and it makes me uneasy.
I can see Aly on her cell across from us, surely filming already. My phone is recording in my pocket, and Evan’s is too. He also has a recording pen in his hand. All three of our phones are live streaming onto the website we set up. Anything we capture will automatically transfer. The site isn’t live yet, but in two hours it will be if we don’t stop it.
I turn around to take in the crowd. I look for anyone that might be out of place: military haircuts, men standing by themselves, people glancing in my direction.
At first I think we might be alone, but then I spot someone.
There’s a man with a buzz cut reading a newspaper two steps behind Aly.
As I continue to survey the park I see mostly mothers and children.
Behind me there’s another man wearing all black and talking on his cell phone.
I nod toward both men so that Evan notices as well.
Then two men in black coats march toward us from a couple hundred feet away. Speaker Jones smiles wide at onlookers as he waves to the children. He towers over Connelly, who is also smiling cordially.
I stand, and then Evan does too.
My breathing is fast.
I keep my eyes on the man reading the newspaper behind Aly. He doesn’t look up.
Evan taps his fingers against his leg. He has the same nervous tick I do.
The duo walks in unison down the steps toward us, then each reaches out a hand.
“Gentlemen,” the Speaker acknowledges.
They are definitely trying to make this look like a friendly conversation. Not like they have recently tried to have me killed.
We shake hands, then take a seat on the concrete steps, Evan on my left and Connelly and Jones on my right.
“Beautiful park, ain’t it?” Jones says. He watches the po
nd below.
I don’t reply. Evan doesn’t either.
I look to Evan and give him a head nod. He clicks his pen to start the recording.
“Let’s cut the chitchat,” Connelly starts, his Texas accent shining through. “Ya’ll boys certainly got our attention.”
“We told you to come alone. Not to pull anything,” I reply.
Both men appear flabbergasted.
They’re playing dumb.
So this is how it’s going to be.
“What are you talking about, David?” Connelly says.
“Newspaper guy across from us. Guy on his cell phone behind us.”
As I say the words, the man reading the newspaper glances directly at us for a brief second before looking back down.
Jones whispers something into Connelly’s ear that I can’t make out over the street noise around us.
I turn around to the guy on the cell phone to find he too is looking directly at us.
This isn’t good.
Evan nudges my shoulder. He bobs his head toward the courtyard down and to the right.
Another man wearing all black sits at a table, and just as I see him, he glances in our direction, then looks away.
Catching a man look at us twice might be considered a coincidence, but three men looking up every few seconds is something else entirely. We’re surrounded. And I’m guessing there are more we don’t even see.
But what could they possibly try?
We’re in public.
Would they find a way to cover the whole thing up? I’ve seen that type of thing in movies, but in real life?
“Those men aren’t ours. If they aren’t yours either, then we should consider a change of venue. This one seems to be compromised,” Connelly says. His voice is hushed.
There it is. Trying to get us somewhere more private where no one sees us.
“I wouldn’t advise that, Congressmen. We’ve got a website ready to go live in two hours if you don’t cooperate. We aren’t falling for that ploy.”
Connelly exchanges a look with Jones.
“This isn’t a ploy. I’ve told you, those men aren’t ours. You obviously played me that day in my office. And yes, I’m ready to play you right back, but not like this. We want to keep this meeting silent.”
He isn’t going to give in. Time to make him play his hand.
I humor him. “Who do you suppose these men are then?”
He looks to me. “You’re wearing a wire, aren’t you?”
He abruptly stands, and then Jones does too.
Is he insinuating that we have gone to the police or FBI? That we’re trying to expose them with a wire?
It’s all just part of their plan to get us into their car and out of public.
“The gig is up, Congressmen. Obviously those men are yours. Cut the act.”
Connelly and Jones don’t look back. Instead they stride fast up the steps.
The man on the cell phone behind us watches Jones.
I turn to the one in the courtyard. He’s standing now, also watching Jones.
The one with the newspaper is still seated, but his eyes are on me.
Connelly and Jones clear the steps and start down the sidewalk.
I jog after them. Evan follows.
The denials are just to try and get us into their car out of public view. It won’t work, but I have to stop them from leaving the park.
“Connelly,” I shout. “I’m not bluffing. The site will go live in two hours if you don’t cooperate.”
He glances at Jones. He seems to think about it. Obviously they want to do this in private, but do they have a plan B if they can’t?
“Either whoever you’re working for arrests us now, or we change venues,” Jones says.
Man, these guys are really trying. Jones’s face even looks genuine. He’s a great actor.
“Prove these men aren’t with you, and we’ll go,” Evan says.
What the hell? He’s not actually thinking about going with them, is he? That is not in the plan. Surely he knows what will happen if we do.
I look behind us to see the guy on the cell phone still there. Probably fifty yards off, looking in our direction.
Connelly exchanges another look with Jones. They both look impatient.
Connelly takes the bait. “Joe has one secret service man in the car waiting over there. I’m not important enough for secret service.” He points toward the black SUV parked a hundred yards away. “Other than that, who else would we even bring with us?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the black ops team that came after us in LA? The one that killed Dominique and tried to do the same to us?” I say.
Connelly laughs. Jones does too.
“You boys have lost your marbles. You are going to try to get us to admit to some crazy loony stuff like that?”
I had a feeling they’d play hardball. And why wouldn’t they? If we can get them on tape admitting to murder and attempted murder, they go to jail for the rest of their lives.
But still, my resolve is starting to crack—they look genuine. What if those guys actually have nothing to do with Jones and Connelly?
“You understand we are congressmen, not the president, right? The only agencies we have access to are the secret service and the NSA. We can protect ourselves or listen in to calls. Even if we had some sort of insane reason to have someone killed, we don’t have that kind of authority,” Jones says.
“Prove it,” Evan says.
What is he doing?
Jones shakes his head. “We’re done here.”
They both turn and then walk quickly toward the black SUV.
They’re calling our bluff. If we leak the files, they will go down, but our leverage is gone.
If we don’t go with them, we lose.
I glance back at Aly. Her phone is raised and pointed in our direction. The man holding the newspaper is still two rows behind her.
When I turn back around, the Speaker and Connelly are almost to the car.
“We need to go with them,” Evan says. “Otherwise we’ll have nothing. It’s got to be on their terms.”
The Speaker and Connelly approach the SUV, and as they do, I sense movement behind me.
I turn.
The man on the cell phone is walking fast toward us, and he’s got us in his sights. I notice the man in black ten or so yards behind him. Both men are moving too fast to just be casually strolling through the park.
The one with the cell phone reaches into his coat pocket. My stomach turns over.
It’s a gun.
Suddenly, everything clicks into place.
I had it all wrong. Connelly and Jones aren’t the ones after us. This isn’t some sort of black ops mission—it’s far too public and dangerous to be a government operation. Government operatives wouldn’t try to shoot us within feet of the Speaker of the House or the whip. This is a hit.
“Run,” I yell.
I take off toward the SUV, and Evan follows me a split second later.
The Speaker closes the door to the back seat.
The brake lights flash on, and the ignition starts up.
I sprint at full speed, and Evan is at my side.
I turn back. They’re running after us.
I nearly hit a kid who jumps out onto the sidewalk, but I sidestep him and sprint toward the car.
The SUV rolls forward.
I wave my arms furiously from side to side, knowing that if I don’t get them to stop, we are likely going to die.
Our pursuers close in.
“Wait!” Evan yells, hoping someone inside the car can hear.
We’re both franticly waving as we get within twenty feet.
Then the SUV pulls into traffic.
No!
Lungs filling then contracting, my head cold, I keep running, adrenaline keeping me on full alert, until finally I smack my hand into the back window.
The SUV brakes hard, and I see three heads turn to look toward the noise.
Evan rounds one side of the SUV, and then I round the other.
I grab for the handle of the right-side door, but it’s locked.
I look back and see the cell phone man running straight at me. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a pistol.
I smack into the window, and Jones’s eyes go wide.
The man raises the pistol, and the next second the door springs open.
I leap inside.
Evan jumps in on the other side.
“Go!” I yell.
“What the hell?” Jones says.
Connelly turns back and sees the man with the gun on our right. He’s aiming at the car.
“You heard him, go!”
I slam my door shut, and the car rockets forward.
I’m squished between Jones and the door.
I glance back and see the man in black running after us.
We accelerate away.
The man in black follows us for another couple seconds, but then suddenly a car horn blares, and the man stops in his tracks as a green sedan swerves to avoid him. The next second, three more cars swoop in from the left behind us, and soon, he’s out of sight.
I turn forward to see who’s driving the car.
Our driver has slicked-back blond hair, and he’s wearing a suit and sunglasses. He looks like secret service.
I try slowing my breathing, my heart still in overdrive from the sprint.
“Lift up your shirts,” Connelly says.
We’re flying down the highway now.
I look over at Evan, confused.
“I said lift them!”
I tug my shirt up, then lift it. My bare chest exposed for Jones and Connelly to see.
Nothing there.
Evan does the same, his belly protruding a bit more than mine.
“No wires,” Jones states.
“Then who are those men?” Connelly asks. He’s looking at me.
I’m still struggling to catch my breath.
“Up until a minute ago, I thought they were with you.”
“You boys got some splainin’ to do. I thought this meeting was a deal in exchange for the files,” Connelly returns.
Suddenly, a thought rushes in, sending a wave of panic through my body.
Aly.
“We have to go back,” I snap.
Four sets of eyes go wide.
“Are you kidding me? They had guns,” Jones returns.