Under the Sheets (Capitol Chronicles Book 1)

by Shirley Hailstock

  "Sir," he began. "Colonel Parker didn't report for work this morning."

  Horton frowned as if he didn't recognize the name.

  "Sam Parker, Mr. President." Tyler Kirkus took up the ex­planation. "We think he's with the senator."

  "Why should that bother us?"

  "Colonel Parker worked with Jackson. He knows all the algorithms to break the codes protecting the files that Senator Randolph copied."

  Horton linked his hands together behind his back and rocked on his heels. "The key, the lock, and the door."

  ***

  Sandra paced the ten feet of free space. She felt like a pawn in some poorly written spy thriller. The bare surroundings of the warehouse where Wyatt had led them were cold, and damp. A small space heater sat in the corner and Wyatt had turned it on. It whined in the quiet air and the visible coils turned a bright red. Sandra hovered near it.

  "Sorry," Wyatt apologized. "I know the owner here. The place is empty and it's the best I could do."

  Sandra nodded with a weak smile and dragged a chair close to the localized heat.

  "All right, Sam." Wyatt swung around to look at the colo­nel. "Spill it."

  "You think Project Eagle is another Star Wars. It's much more than that. Project Eagle is a communications defense system. In its fully functional state it links control of several orbiting satellites. Any one of them can pinpoint a single tele­phone in a single apartment anywhere on the planet and render it unusable. And not only telephones, any communication de­vice, cell phones, computers. It’s powerful enough to access servers, destroy or insert information."

  "It's that powerful?" Sandra got to her feet and joined Wyatt. She slipped her hand around his arm anchoring herself to reality.

  "More than that, Ms. Rutledge." Sam shifted to include her in his area of concern. He stood at parade rest with his hands clasped in front of him. "The Eagle's span can cut off any form of communications within a point as small as one unit or as large as the entire globe."

  "Every government in the world would want this," Wyatt whispered.

  "They do and you have it."

  Sandra's fingers closed tighter around Wyatt's arm. The problem was they didn't have it. They'd given it to Jeff Taylor; and he was dead now.

  "At least you have a vital part of it," Sam went on.

  "The satellites are in place and the software to control it is on the computer system at the Pentagon," Wyatt stated as if he had been part of the project since its inception.

  "Not quite," Sam corrected him. "The system isn't only at the Pentagon, it's at another, secret site. I don't even know where it is, but Jackson knew. He had to be part of the in­stallation team."

  "If there's more than one copy, why is everyone looking for Wyatt?"

  Sam hesitated too long. Sandra began to shiver. Wyatt felt it and put his hand over hers. The effort helped but didn't stop the chill that penetrated to her marrow.

  "I don't know for sure, but my theory is that there are other people who want the system. Like you said, every government on earth would want the kind of power Project Eagle would give them. They're willing to kill for it."

  "Two men are already dead," Wyatt reminded them.

  "If they find us, there will be three more."

  "Is my father involved in this?" Sandra had to ask.

  Again Sam hesitated. "Senator Rutledge spearheaded the project. He got the funding and sat on the advisor panel, work­ing closely with the military. As far as I know, he was present at every demonstration of the system and its capabilities."

  Wyatt looked down at her.

  "It doesn't mean anything," she told him. "He's probably spearheaded many projects. This doesn't mean he's behind the men trying to kill you."

  "No," Wyatt agreed, but his voice was unconvincing. Sandra pulled her hand away. She took a deep breath to calm herself and faced the colonel. Thank God she'd be seeing her father in a few hours. She couldn't believe he was involved. No matter what Wyatt believed.

  "Colonel, why did Chip encase the component in man-made diamonds?" she asked.

  "I don't know. My nearest guess is that it was the only way he could get them out of the building. The security detectors are state of the art. Surrounded by that material they were camouflaged sufficiently to get them out."

  "Do you think he found out someone was trying to steal the parts?"

  Sam looked over his shoulder as if someone else might hear. "I'm not supposed to know this, but what can it hurt," he said almost to himself. "I believe the system has been stolen."

  "What do you mean?" Wyatt asked.

  "I only heard part of a conversation, but it involved Jack­son, Senator Rutledge, and some high-level military types. Several of the joint chiefs were there. It made me think the software portion of the system was missing. They were grill­ing Jackson as to how such a thing could have happened. Two days later Jackson was dead and the components were miss­ing. Thank God he sent them to you."

  "We don't have them," Wyatt said flatly.

  "What!" Sam looked from one of them to the other. "You're serious. What happened to them?"

  "We gave them to Jeff Taylor. He must have found out something about them, but he died without telling us what it was or where he'd left them. For all we know whoever killed him has them now."

  "I don't think so," Sam said.

  "Why not?" Wyatt asked.

  "When I left the Pentagon there were several high-level meetings going on. Everett Horton's name even came up."

  "President Horton and Jeff were friends."

  "You didn't tell me that," Sandra said.

  "I'd forgotten. We never talked about the President.”

  "Was Taylor dead when you found him?" Colonel Parker pulled the discussion back to the immediate problem.

  "No," Wyatt said. "He lived for a couple of minutes after we got there."

  "Did he say anything that could help in finding out where he left the stones?"

  "Nothing we could decipher," Sandra answered.

  "What was it?"

  "He gave us a number, 95147."

  "What does it mean?"

  "We haven't a clue. We tried phone numbers, shipping num­ber, zip codes, nothing fits."

  "Maybe it isn't one number, but two or three."

  "What are you getting at?" Wyatt asked.

  "Longitude and latitude, map routes, an address."

  "We've gone through this, Sam," Wyatt glanced at Sandra. We haven't come up with anything that makes any sense. The location of those stones died with Jeff Taylor."

  "We better hope they didn't," Sam said.

  Sandra's head came up suddenly. Sam could see the question in her eyes.

  "If they did," Sam explained, "our lives are worth about as much as one of those fake diamonds."

  Chapter 12

  Sandra stared at her third toothbrush in a week. She thought of the one with the white bristles and pink handle back on the mountain in Pennsylvania. They'd stayed in four hotels in the last seven days. Sandra was beginning to hate hotel rooms. Wrapped in a thin white towel, she pulled the blow dryer from the wall hook and brushed it through her wet hair. When she met her father later she didn't want him to see how badly life on the road was affecting her.

  She'd bought a second-hand dress at a thrift shop not far from the hotel. No one noticed her. Who’d expect a senator’s daughter to shop at a thrift store? Still she wore a hat, lots of makeup and kept her head down as much as possible. The long-sleeved, scooped-necked dress hung behind the door.

  The dryer clicked and hummed as if it would short-out at any moment. It also drowned out any sound coming from the next room. Wyatt sat beyond the closed door. Until she'd gone to take a shower he'd been relentless in trying to convince her not to keep this appointment. She'd given him every argument she could think of, but she had to go, had to give her father the benefit of the doubt. She didn't believe he'd let her walk into a trap.

  Switching the dryer to a higher setting, she used
the brush to curl the ends of her hair. Then sweeping up the thick mass, she anchored it with a pearl clamp and whipped the ends along the side of her face. She dressed quickly in the royal-blue dress and added Annie's necklace and earrings as her only adornments.

  Taking a last look in the small mirror, she pulled the door open expecting Wyatt to start again.

  Wyatt glanced up from the laptop screen. Whatever he'd been planning to say when she came out of the bathroom flew out of his head. He'd only seen her in a ponytail or with her hair pulled down straight to her shoulders. It wasn't just the upswept style that took him by surprise; all of her took him by surprise! The hairstyle em­phasized her eyes and framed her coppertone, oval face. The dress claimed her curves for its own. She was gorgeous.

  This was the daughter Wyatt recognized. He hadn’t remembered that Brad Rutledge had a daughter, but now he saw the woman whose face stared back at the camera from newspapers or television campaign commercials. Wyatt couldn’t believe the transformation. Her sister may be a model, but Sandra was a goddess.

  He didn't want her to leave him. He cleared his throat trying to say something but found he could do nothing but stare.

  Time hung between them like an invisible hand holding them in place. He could go on looking at her forever. He hoped he'd have forever. Tonight, possibly this moment, was the last time they'd see each other. Wyatt’s stomach muscles clenched. He'd become used to her. He liked listening to her quiet breathing while she slept and finding her there when he awoke. He liked the way she smiled and smelled when he held her. He wanted her more than he'd ever wanted any woman and she was the one he'd never have.

  In his heart he didn't think Bradford Rutledge was trying to hurt Sandra. In Brad's mind he was rescuing her. Getting her away from Wyatt was the first step. Like kidnapping a child from an occult camp, Senator Rutledge was luring San­dra to his form of freedom.

  It was for the best. Her father would protect her. He could do what Wyatt couldn't. Wyatt had put her in danger the moment they met and he could see no way of getting out of the situ­ation. Eventually he had to be found. When that happened he wanted to know that Sandra was safe.

  Wyatt got up. "What time do you have to leave?"

  Sandra checked her watch. "I have a few minutes."

  Neither of them moved. The awkward moment stretched on. Wyatt didn't know what to say. He let his gaze take in her shining hair and the perfect symmetry of her features. His stare roamed over her curves, memorizing each turn until he could cup his hand just so and achieve the same angle. He'd need to recall this in the dark stretches of night that were his future.

  "What are you doing?" she finally asked, snapping his thoughts and bringing him back to the present.

  He glanced at the computer he'd set up on the circular table. "I thought I'd look at the files I copied."

  "Why?" She moved around to look at the screen. "I thought they were encrypted."

  "They are. I just need confirmation that what Sam said is the truth."

  The screen had gibberish on it. He could read nothing. "The files might have been planted. One of them is in Japanese. Why else would they let me take them out?"

  "If you think they're planted why are you wasting your time?"

  He hadn't been wasting his time. He'd been trying to keep his mind busy so he wouldn't think about her leaving. She was beautiful and intelligent. She reacted well under pressure. She was staunchly loyal. And she didn't want anything from him. Her agenda was on the table. She only wanted to prove her father was the man she thought he was. Wouldn't he do the same thing for his father if a strange woman came to him with a story like the one he told her?

  "What did you think of Sam's story?"

  Sandra took the chair across from the computer. Wyatt sat down in front of it. "I think it's pretty fantastic." She paused and glanced away for a moment. “Quite frankly, it scared me to death. A device that sensitive, I'm not sure anyone should have it. It's like eavesdropping on a global scale. Even if only part of it is true, we have got to find those stones."

  "I agree, but we haven't a clue where Jeff hid them or what 95147 means." Wyatt stared at her. "The only thing I remem­ber is that he was having dinner with a friend."

  "That's right." Sandra stood up as if an idea forced her to her feet. "That's what we have to do."

  Wyatt waited for further explanation.

  She walked across the room. "We have to find out every­thing Jeff did in the days before he died. That will tell us who he talked to and where he went. The stones have got to be in one of those places."

  "That's right," Wyatt agreed. He hesitated a long time be­fore he made the decision to tell her. "Sandra, we aren't going to do it.”

  "Why not?" She looked confused. "Have you got a better plan?"

  "I've decided this is the perfect opportunity for us to split up."

  "What!" She swung around to face him. The blue dress swirled out like a parachute opening.

  "You're going to see your father. This is your opportunity to get out of this. He'll take care of you."

  "What about you?" She put her hand on her breast as if her heart pounded and she needed to calm it down.

  "I'm not your problem."

  Sandra's expression suddenly changed. Her shoulders dropped and she stared directly at him.

  "What are you planning to do?"

  "Nothing," he said honestly. She raised an eyebrow indi­cating she didn't believe him. "I swear," he said.

  "Then why are you trying to get rid of me?"

  "I'm trying to protect you," he said. "All along you've told me your father had nothing to do with the stones. I agree. When you go to him, you'll be out of this."

  "And you'll be alone." She took a step and stopped. "You'll be here with no help and no backup until someone finds and kills you." She stopped to take a breath. "What are you trying to do?"

  Wyatt went to her, holding her shoulders. "I'm trying to save you, Sandra. Don't you know the people looking for me won't care that you're innocent? They'll ride over you to get to me and I don't even have the items they're seeking."

  She shrugged away his hands. "Let me tell you something, Wyatt Randolph. I'm in this until the end. You began this adventure by accusing my father of treason and I'm not going to let you off the hook until you admit he had nothing to do with Project Eagle, fake diamonds, or anything else." Emotion made her voice heavy.

  "I don't want to prove Brad Rutledge had anything to do with this. I want to take advantage of an opportunity, one we're not likely to get again."

  "Without discussing it with me. Just who do you think you are?"

  "Sandra, think of it analytically. You've been chased by cops, shot at by people we don't even know; we're hunted by our own government and maybe some foreign powers who think we have access to a defense system. You can end it now, tonight. You can be safe."

  "Well, maybe I don't want to be safe." She walked away from him. "Maybe my life has been too safe, too planned," she shouted. "Too damned boring. Maybe I need the excite­ment.”

  The words came as a surprise. She had buried herself, and it had nothing to do with John or his death. She'd run from her father's constant front-page coverage and from her mother's limelight, hiding herself in the safe world of elliptic curves. Theorems didn't flash cameras or thrust microphones in her face. Number theories didn't force her to think and act with the speed of light. And she liked the fast-paced world Wyatt had shown her. She didn't like being shot at or running from the law, but there was something about living for the moment that thrilled her and she wanted to hold on to the feeling.

  And to Wyatt.

  She could still teach her students, but she wanted more out of life than just being a college professor and going from one chalk-dusty classroom to another.

  Sandra stopped pacing in front of the window. Her arms were wrapped around her as if she were holding something in. Wyatt went to her, turning her around and into his arms. He pulled her close to him, smelling t
he sample shampoo that had been in the motel bathroom.

  "I only want to know that you'll be safe." He lifted her chin and kissed her mouth tenderly. "I'm in love with you."

  ***

  Sandra pressed the accelerator and the speedometer inched closer to seventy. Why couldn't they have met in a restaurant closer to Washington? It was dark and cold. Wind and rain batted against the small rented car.

  Wyatt had said he loved her. She hadn't let herself explore her feelings for him. Until she'd talked to her father and cleared this mess up, she didn't want to deal with her emotions where Wyatt Randolph was concerned.

  He was trying to protect her. He couldn't survive for long alone. The thought made her shudder. She wanted him alive.

  Pushing aside any further thoughts, she decided to concen­trate on something else—Sam and the stones. She didn't trust Sam Parker enough to accept the use of his car. His story had been fantastic, and she still wasn't prepared to believe it all. She was glad Wyatt agreed with her; neither of them trusted him fully.

  They'd left the warehouse and gone in opposite directions. They didn't know where he would be and they refused to tell him where their hotel was located. He'd given them a phone number. Wyatt promised to call when they'd had time to think about what he'd told them.

  Sandra looked at the phone that came with the rental car. Annie and her friend Jordon had rented the car together, al­though his name was on the papers in the glove compartment. The miles flew by in green markers as she sped south on Route 95 toward Richmond.

  A system that could not only knock out communications but listen in on private conversations anywhere in the world. Her heart pounded at the thought. Planes would fall out of the sky, space travel depended on communications with the ground, control of televisions, even the news media was trans­mitted over satellite links—and those were just the small uses. Nuclear warheads could be launched with communication codes, computer networks shut down or activated. Chip Jack­son had created a doomsday machine and sent it to Wyatt.