Under the Sheets (Capitol Chronicles Book 1)

by Shirley Hailstock

  He saw him. He was talking to the prime minister and danc­ing with Sandra. Sam shrank into the darkness of the corridor. He found an empty room and stole inside it. With the door cracked, he could only see the basement door and the back stairs. He waited. Finally, he heard Sandra's voice. She chal­lenged Lance. What a gutsy woman, he thought. Desque pushed her up the stairs.

  After all she'd gone through she was here, disregarding her physical pain, to try to get the part that could save not only his hide, but that of the entire world. He had to admit that maybe women in the services wasn't as bad as he'd thought. He'd never had to work with a woman under pressure. Sandra Rutledge had behaved admirably. Wyatt was a lucky man.

  Desque came down the stairs—alone. He'd left her up there. He looked around the hallway, then went directly to the base­ment door. He checked in front and behind him. Seeing no one, he opened the door and disappeared through it.

  Sam left his hiding place and went up the stairs. He didn't have time to locate Suzanne and Jordon. He needed to know where Sandra was, then they'd get Wyatt. He hoped.

  ***

  The room was temperature controlled for the computer equipment. Wyatt was generating his own heat. He wanted to know where Sandra had been taken. Was she all right? She'd been ill and in pain most of the evening. What had Desque done with her?

  Wyatt looked at the Neanderthal holding him. The man had not said a word. He'd let the implication of the gun speak for him. Wyatt was under no illusion that he wouldn't use the gun if necessary.

  He could hear the party going on upstairs. Band music fil­tered through the door. He wondered where Sam was and if Jordon and Suzanne were still looking for them. He grabbed the thought as his only means of a possible escape.

  There was suddenly a loud applause. Both Wyatt and Henri looked at the ceiling. Something happened. He wondered what. Maybe Jordon and Suzanne had discovered them miss­ing and done something to try to find them. Desque opened and closed the door. The sound resounded and receded.

  The look that passed between Desque and the silent man told Wyatt they were involved in the commotion occurring on the floor above.

  "They're here," he said to his silent partner.

  "What do you want with us?" Wyatt opened. "You've got what you need. Why don't you let us go?"

  Desque walked like a man who had everything he'd ever wanted. He went to the desk and sat down. Pulling a small black device from his pocket, he dropped it on the desk. Wyatt thought it was a hand-held tape recorder and that it would begin to play a recorded message. Then he noticed it was a remote control. What did it control? What was Desque's game now? Why did he want him to know?

  "I want the last chip, Wyatt."

  Wyatt didn't like the way he pronounced his name, as if the two syllables should be dragged apart.

  Desque pulled the jewelry from his pocket. He dropped it on the desk. It joined the remote control, giving Wyatt added cause for concern. Where was Sandra? What had he done to her?

  "I don't know what you're talking about." He looked at the set stones. He couldn't tell whether these contained the chips or not. The machine it fit into was open and empty. Sandra had been wearing the real ones. The fakes had been in the machine. Now nothing was in the machine and Desque had danced away with Sandra.

  Desque stood up. "I'm talking about the fifteenth stone, Senator." His voice raised. "You had a copy made," he grinned. Adjusting his suit as if he was getting back to his customary state of perfection, he lowered his voice. "It's a good copy." He lifted the necklace. The solitaire swung like a pendulum in a short arc. "To the naked eye there isn'4 any difference. But," he stopped the swing. "It won't work and I'm going to have it."

  "What do you think I can do? I don't have it." Wyatt shrugged. The gesture might have looked as if he didn't care, but he did. He felt his palms growing moist.

  "The only person who's had possession of the stones, other than Jeff Taylor, has been you and Senator Rutledge's daugh­ter."

  "Where is she? What have you done with her?"

  Desque picked up the remote control and leaned back in the chair as if he were relaxing. Wyatt's nerves stretched to the breaking point. "Ah, yes. Senator Rutledge's daughter. You're in love with her, aren't you?"

  Wyatt didn't answer.

  "You don't have to answer. I could see it the first time I met you." He twirled the small instrument in his hand. "Why don't we talk about Sandra. I've known her for years, since she was a child."

  Wyatt stared straight ahead. He wanted to pick up one of the pieces and examine it, find out if the jewelry lying on the desk was the real thing or the copies Sandra had had made. Desque picked up an earring. Wyatt consciously controlled his breathing.

  "You're wondering which ones these are?" Desque seemed to read his mind. "They're the real ones, the ones Jackson designed and had made. The ones that fit into the slots of that system and the ones that Sandra Rutledge had gracing her beautiful ears and throat." He paused.

  "Desque, if you've done anything to hurt her . . ."

  "Hurt her?" His eyes opened in mock surprise. "I wouldn't hurt her. I wouldn't even deprive her of her jewelry." He let the earring drop to the desk. Stretching out his arm, he checked his watch. "It's nearly time," he said to the other man. Then Desque handed him the stones. "Put them in."

  "Time for what?" Wyatt asked. He knew time was running out for him, too. Desque was playing some game and he didn't like it, but he had to continue until he found out where Sandra was. Had he taken her out of the building or was she upstairs someplace? Where was Sam? Had he seen Desque and Sandra? "Time for what?" he asked again.

  "Time to activate the system, Senator." He glanced at. Henri who was busy slipping the stones into place.

  "I thought you said it wouldn't work without the fifteenth stone?"

  "I'll have the fifteenth stone. You're going to give it to me."

  "I don't have it," Wyatt reminded him.

  Desque made a display of checking the remote in his hand. "We allowed you in here earlier, Randolph. You and the colo­nel. Did you think you were safe? You'd replaced the stones with fakes. Having them set into a necklace and earrings . . . that was good," he smiled. "I like that. Was it your idea or the senator's daughter? Maybe I should say the farmer's daughter?"

  Wyatt almost lunged for him. He stopped himself in time. Desque was trying to provoke him and he wouldn't let him. He had to stay calm, stay in control until he told him what he'd done with Sandra or until Sam or Jordon and Suzanne found him.

  "We let you take the real stones, but we couldn't let you leave. The duplicates were a good touch. Whose idea was that?"

  "What difference does it make?"

  "Oh, it makes a difference. You see, we. . .modified the duplicate necklace. We . . . added something to one of the stones. We made it a fifteenth stone."

  Wyatt shook. He couldn't stop the tremor.

  "That got your attention. Good. Let me tell you what we did with it and where it is now."

  Wyatt knew.

  "Sandra has it. She's upstairs." He looked up. Wyatt couldn't stop himself from following Desque's gaze. "In the attic. Around her neck is the duplicate with a stone that con­tains a—" He left the sentence hanging.

  "You've put a bomb around Sandra’s neck?" Wyatt could hardly speak. He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them. "You're lying," he said. "That bomb would level this build­ing." Sam had told him that when he'd defused it at the man­sion in Virginia. If it went off it could turn the building into a small pile of stone, he'd said. Desque wanted to reap his rewards in this life. He'd no more set off a bomb than shoot himself.

  "That bomb would," he agreed. “I said we'd modified it. All it will do now is take her head off."

  Wyatt weaved at the mental picture created. Desque gave his attention to the black control in his hand. Wyatt pulled himself together. He was going to have to talk his way out of this if he was going to save her life.

  "It's done, sir." Henri spoke for
the first time. Wyatt looked at him. His face was stony. Wyatt had the feeling that. Henri would enjoy killing him. A coldness ran through him as bone-chilling as a winter plunge in the Potomac River.

  "Good," Desque told him. "Leave us. Make sure no one enters or leaves without my permission."

  Henri nodded and left. Wyatt could have kicked himself. He should have been trying to figure out how to get the re­mote away from Desque. Instead, he'd followed Henri's move­ments without thinking of anything else. Sandra was his responsibility. He'd gotten her mixed up in this and she'd nearly been killed for the service. He couldn't let all her effort and work go to waste.

  Was Desque telling the truth or was this a good game of poker? Wyatt really didn't know if the fifteenth stone wasn't the same. Who'd changed it? Sam? Sandra? The jeweler?

  "I told you I don't know anything about that stone. If it's the wrong one, then Chip sent the wrong one to me."

  "Don't give me that!" Desque hit the desk with his fist. A pencil cup toppled over and the green-shaded banker's light skidded to a new location. "You had it and you'll tell me what you did with it." Again he adjusted his clothes. Wyatt realized Desque hated losing control. He liked speaking softly and be­ing in control, holding people with the quiet hostility of his voice. "You've noticed this, haven't you, Senator." He held the remote in plain view.

  Wyatt's knees grew weak. He wanted to sit down, but he knew his best position would be to stand and be ready for whatever came his way. He breathed slowly, keeping himself alert.

  Desque pushed a button. The machine close to the wall started up. Lights came on, went off, then came on and stayed steady. The whir of the fan made him jump as if it had ex­ploded.

  "Don't be so jumpy, Senator. It’s this button." He pointed to the white one. The others were black. Only one button had a different color. "When I get to the one, imagine what will happen to her." He pressed a second button. Apparently, noth­ing happened. "This one just locked the door to a limousine, Senator. Do you want to know who's inside that limousine?" Desque waited for an answer, but Wyatt didn't give it to him. "Of course, you want to know. A certain photographer and his model. They were going to help you and Sandra in the rescue of the world. Too bad things didn't go according to plan."

  "What is the plan?" Wyatt asked. He took a step closer to Desque. He couldn't just stand there and wait for him to go through the eight buttons on the control.

  "The plan, Wyatt?" He separated his name again. "I thought you'd figured it out by now. Sandra did. She knows exactly what I'm planning to do. I'm going to control the world. All I need is the stone." He pressed another button.

  Lights at the end of the room went out. "That's three, Wyatt. There are five left. All of them might not have functions. How much longer do you think it will be before I reach the final button? How much time do you think Sandra has?"

  Wyatt tried not to think of Sandra's headless body, but Desque kept talking. "Stop this now, Desque." He took an­other step forward. He was close to the desk.

  "She won't even know it," he continued, ignoring Wyatt. "The blast will come as a total surprise. She won't have time to think about you. Her life will be over before it can flash in front of her eyes. She'll probably open her mouth to scream. Do you think she'll be able to, Wyatt? Her head will be gone, Senator. It'll whirl in the air like a ball, blood spurting eve­rywhere. Then it'll crash—"

  Desque looked down at the control. Wyatt lunged for him. Momentum over the desk had the two of them crashing to the floor. The remote control skittered away. It clattered over the tiles out of reach. Desque rolled over and reached for it. Wyatt grabbed him. He rolled back, fighting him. His fist connected with Wyatt’s jaw. Wyatt was dazed for a moment. He saw the second punch coming and blocked it Raising to his knees, he pulled Desque with him. The man used his legs to punch Wyatt in the kidneys. Pain exploded in his back. His grip released and Desque pinned him to the floor.

  The fist coming toward him was huge. It grew larger and larger as it approached his face. Wyatt shitted his head in time. Desque's hand hit the computer floor. He screamed as pain went through his knuckles and up his arm. Wyatt used the force of his shoulder to connect his fist with Desque's jaw. He went sideways off him. Dazed but not out, Desque shook his head, trying to clear it.

  Wyatt rolled away from him and went for the remote con­trol. He picked it up and turned back to the undersecretary. Wyatt stopped in the act of rising. Pointed directly at him was the front end of a loaded gun.

  "I think you have something that's mine," Desque huffed. They were both breathing hard. “Lay it on the desk slowly, and I wouldn't try anything stupid, Senator."

  Wyatt hesitated. What should he do? He wasn't going to get another chance to surprise Desque.

  "I'm waiting, Senator. On the desk." He punctuated each word. “Or I shoot you in the knee."

  Wyatt had no choice. He placed the remote on the desk and backed away.

  Desque picked it up. He placed his hand over the white button. "Time’s up, Senator. Where is it?"

  "All right, I'll tell you. It's at the hotel," he lied. Anything for time. "We left it in the safe so it wouldn't be mistaken for one of the others."

  "I don't believe you." His finger moved.

  "I swear," Wyatt shouted.

  "You think I'm stupid We searched that room the moment you left it. There's nothing there but clothes spread all over the furniture, enough makeup to open a store, and financial reports on some of the most influential men in Washington. That was a major find, Senator," he smiled. "Thanks for pro­viding it."

  Wyatt knew he was telling the truth. "Sandra has the stones. She hid them. I don't know where, but take me to her and I'll get her to tell you."

  "That’s good, Senator. That’s rich." He laughed now that his breathing was back to normal. His clothes were slightly disheveled and dusty from their roll on the floor. "You're out of chances, Senator." His finger depressed the button.

  "Nooo!" Wyatt shouted. He grabbed for the remote. The explosion resounded in his ears like shock waves that played and replayed against his brain. Desque looked surprised stunned. The gun slipped from his fingers. Wyatt watched it fall in slow motion. It hit the floor and bounced. He watched it slide toward the wall and come to a stop. Then Desque was falling. His mouth worked feverishly but nothing came out. Wyatt couldn't hear him.

  Wyatt’s knees gave. He sank to the floor. "Sandra!" he cried over and over. "Sandra!"

  "Wyatt, I'm here." Sandra rushed across the room and fell to her knees. "Everything is all right." She put her arms around him and repeated that everything was fine. "Sam found me. He found you and shot Lance."

  Wyatt stared at her with eyes that did not see. She kept calling his name, hoping he was all right. She felt his back and looked at his arms. Had Lance shot him? When Sam had burst through the door and seen the gun pointed at Wyatt, he'd taken the first shot. It hit Lance in the arm. The gun fell from his hand.

  Wyatt had begun to scream and fell to the floor. "It's over, Wyatt. It's all over."

  Wyatt smelled her hair. He was losing his mind Desque had killed Sandra, yet Wyatt smelled her hair. He could even feel her arms around him, hear her sweet voice.

  "Sandra!" he cried.

  "I'm here, Wyatt. I'm here."

  He wasn't dreaming. He pushed her back. It was her. She was real. "Sandra! You're alive." He pulled her against him, squashed her, pulled her off balance, and crushed her against him. Then his mouth was on her face, seeking, touching her, kissing her eyes, her cheeks, her mouth. The two of them were on their knees. Wyatt moved back a moment to look at her, make sure he hadn't made a mistake. Then he took her mouth again. This time he wanted her to know he'd never let her go again, never let her out of his sight and never put her in the kind of danger that had scared him to death.

  "Sam saved me," she explained, when he'd slipped his mouth from hers and just held her. Wyatt had no idea what she was talking about. How could Sam have saved her? "Lance locked
me in the attic with a guard, but Sam forced one of the maids to tell her Lance had sent food. She opened the door and he overpowered her. Both of them are upstairs, tied up."

  He pushed her away and stood up. "What are you talking about?"

  "I'm talking about how I got out of the attic." She glanced at Sam.

  "What about the bomb?" He touched the earrings, almost caressing them. "Why didn't it go off?

  "Because I switched it," Sam said. Wyatt looked around. Sam was in the room. Jordon and Suzanne had also arrived. Everyone was smiling at them.

  Sandra went to the machine and pulled out the real set of stones. She kept them in her hand as Sam finished explaining what had happened.

  "I discovered a second bomb in the chips. It's an old fail­safe device that's used to make sure if the first method fails, a second will be there to complete the job."

  "If there was one, there was probably another," Wyatt stated.

  "Exactly. I also wanted to make it difficult if we actually lost the stones, so I substituted one of the experimental ones we'd used. Desque must have tried to activate it and found out one was bogus."

  Wyatt looked at the body on the floor and then back at Sam.

  "When I saw him take Sandra upstairs and that big guy take you downstairs, I knew something was wrong. Then Desque comes back alone and I couldn't find Suzanne and Jordon."

  "We were locked in the limo," Jordon told him.

  "Getting Sandra was easy," Sam continued. "When I saw the earrings, we discovered the bomb and had to defuse the chip. That's what took so long. Sandra went to check the limo while I dealt with Desque's henchman. He's tied up and gagged in one of the basement closets."

  "How do you know there aren't more?" Wyatt said. "I can't believe he executed this dung with only a few lackeys."

  "Nor did I."

  Sandra and Annie gasped at the voice. They turned to find Lance standing, the gun in his hand pointed at them. "I thought you were dead," Sandra said. Blood covered half of him. Sandra was reminded of Wyatt and the amount of blood he'd lost when she found him. She frowned. Lance's face was a pale white. She could see the blood seeping through a point in his chest just under his collarbone.