Target

by Cindy Dees

  Silence met her impassioned declaration.

  Diana said slowly, “Tell me something. Did someone call you, too? Put a bug in your ear that I’d lost it? Who called you?”

  The silence that greeted her question was eloquent. Someone had called Delphi. Dammit. “Was it my grandfather?” Diana demanded.

  Time was up. Thirty seconds. All she could afford to talk to Delphi without her phone being traced. She couldn’t stay on the line any longer waiting for Delphi’s response. And maybe she didn’t need to hear it anyway.

  She disconnected the line and tossed the cell phone on the seat beside her.

  Time to go have a little conversation with good old Gramps.

  11:00 P.M.

  H er grandfather had sold his Chevy Chase estate a couple years back and usually stayed in some posh hotel when he came to town these days. But, as had been his habit for all the years he worked in the CIA, he kept to no set routine and changed hotels every time he came to town. She had no idea where he was staying this time.

  She dialed Josie’s cell phone number. “Hey, Jo. It’s me.”

  Her sister sounded inordinately grumpy. Must have interrupted a romantic interlude with Diego. “Diana. It’s after eleven. What do you want?”

  “Where’s Gramps staying?”

  “The Shoreham in Rock Creek Park. Why?”

  “He and I need to have a little talk tonight.”

  “Now?” Josie asked in surprise. Abruptly, Sis sounded at full alert.

  “Don’t ask,” Diana said sharply.

  “I’m asking,” Josie retorted. “What’s up?”

  “I think he turned me in. Called my boss and said I’ve lost it and gone over the edge.”

  “Have you?” Josie asked seriously.

  All the frustration built up over years and years of wrong and negative assumptions about her flared up and finally bubbled over. “Why is it everyone in this family thinks I’m such a screwup? How long am I going to have to be Superwoman before you people get off my back and accept the fact that I’ve grown up into a responsible adult?”

  A long silence met that outburst. Long enough to startle Diana. Was her sister actually seriously considering the question? By rights, they ought to be in the middle of a screaming match right about now. Maybe both of them had done some growing up recently.

  Finally, Josie said slowly, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I still do think of you as my baby sister who’s in need of protection.”

  “Protection? Me?” Surprise coursed through Diana.

  “You were so little when Mom went away. And you never knew her. You didn’t remember how much she loved us. I had the memory of that to sustain me, but you didn’t. I felt so sorry for you. I tried to make it up to you. To love you the way she would have. But you always pushed me away. You wouldn’t let me.”

  Remorse slugged Diana, a heavy fist straight to the gut. Is that what Josie had been trying to do all along? She’d always thought Josie was trying to smother her. To keep her little sister from shining as brightly as she did. She’d thought it was sibling rivalry, for goodness’ sake! Could she have been wrong for all those long years of simmering ill will? She stammered, “I didn’t know. I thought you resented me. Were trying to boss me around.”

  “Good Lord, no! I was trying to be a substitute mother to you. But I was too young. I didn’t know how to do it. You were so hurt. So shut down. You closed me out. You closed everyone out.”

  The words were daggers to her heart. She had closed everyone out. In her pain and loss and misunderstanding, she’d pushed away the one person who’d reached out to her in shared pain and loss. And it must have been so much more difficult for Josie. She’d really known their mother. Remembered her. Suffered an even greater loss. But, in spite of that, she’d still reached out to Diana.

  In return, she’d mistaken generosity for dominance, love for resentment. And she’d rejected Josie. Rejected everyone. Revelation broke over her in a cold wave. She was still rejecting everyone. Even a great guy like Gabe who’d opened himself up to her. Reached out to her. Trusted her with his life.

  She mumbled, “I didn’t know. God, I’m so sorry…” Unable to speak anymore, she disconnected the line. What a mess she’d made of everything. And she’d never realized it. What a selfish brat she’d been. She’d been so busy feeling sorry for herself, she’d never looked beyond her own suffering to see the pain she’d caused the people around her.

  Was she doing the same thing now? Was she so caught up in herself she wasn’t seeing the bigger picture? Did it really matter if she tracked down this S.A.F.E. organization-if it even existed at all? Was she Don Quixote, tilting at windmills in her own elusive chase after glory?

  Maybe she should just give it up. Stop pretending she was capable of saving Gabe single-handedly. That’s what the entire Secret Service was for. They could handle the job.

  Her phone rang, startling her out of her funk. She picked it up. “Hello?”

  “Hey. It’s me.”

  Gabe. What in the world was he doing calling her now? “Are you all right?” she asked in quick concern.

  “I’m fine. I was worried about you. You seemed pretty upset after Owen raked you over the coals. I’m sorry about that.”

  “He was just doing his job. I can’t blame the guy.”

  “Still, he was pretty rough on you. You put your neck on the line for me today and I really appreciate it.”

  Was that all he felt for her? Gratitude for her work? Had she blown it with him, too, and somehow shut him out as she did everyone else? Soberly she replied, “I was just doing my job. No different than Owen.”

  Gabe chuckled. “I don’t know about that. I’d say you’re quite a bit different than Owen.”

  His remark startled her into a laugh. She retorted, “Well, I should hope so.”

  Gabe replied quietly, “That’s much better. I needed to hear you laugh.”

  He’d needed it? Needed something from her? Aloud she said, “Well, then, did you hear the one about the boy who got the bicycle after he had sex for the first time?”

  Gabe laughed again. “I don’t need a laugh that bad.”

  They lapsed into silence for a moment.

  She said hesitantly, “Thanks for believing in me today. Not many people would have. They’d have figured I was some sort of nutcase.”

  “I suppose you are a nutcase.”

  “What?” she blurted out.

  “You like me, don’t you? I figure you have to be a little bit crazy to do that.”

  “Gabe Monihan, you’re one of the most eligible bachelors in the entire world. Women are swooning over you by the thousands in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  He snorted. “They’re swooning over my job description. You’re the first woman I’ve met since I ran for President who looked at me and really saw me.”

  She stammered, flustered at the compliment.

  He said earnestly, “Just promise me you won’t change after I become President.”

  “You’re not sworn in, yet?” she exclaimed.

  “Nope. Owen’s really wired tight. He’s worried that someone way up in the government may be a crazy bent on taking me out. He’s got me locked down. Again.”

  She said seriously, “I have to agree with Owen on this one.”

  Gabe absorbed that in silence. Did he think she was crazy after all? She took a deep breath. She had to stop looking for reasons to push people away. She’d be engaging in long bouts of silence, too, if someone told her a close associate of hers was out to kill her.

  She said lightly, “Well, look at it this way. A day’s delay in taking office will make for an interesting footnote in the history books about you.”

  “Gee, thanks,” he said dryly. “There’s nothing like being reminded that my every word and move for the next four years is going to be recorded and commented on for generations to come.”

  She couldn’t help but chuckle. “Hey, you’re the numbskull who volunteered for the jo
b.” Lest he take offense she added quickly, “You’re going to be a great president.”

  “Why’s that?”

  She answered sincerely, “Because you care. Because you want to make the world a better place. Because you’re decent and honorable and will do the right thing.”

  A long pause. Then he said quietly, “I think that’s about the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me.”

  “So, are we taking turns embarrassing each other tonight, or what?” She laughed softly. “I think it’s your turn, now.”

  “Tell you what. I’ll take a rain check on that. I have confidence that in the next few months, I’ll have ample opportunities to embarrass you.”

  Months? As in he wanted to see her again? For months? Whoa. “Okay,” she managed to choke out.

  “So what are you up to right now?” he asked her.

  “Well, I thought I’d try to track down some of those high-ranking crazies who might be out to kill you. I’m on my way to see my grandfather.”

  “Joseph Lockworth, right?”

  “How did you know he’s my grandfather?”

  “Owen ran a background check on you after breakfast this morning. He mentioned it to me.”

  “Oh.” She cringed. He’d heard all the gory details of her checkered past, eh? So much for him ever respecting her.

  Gabe added, “I didn’t ask to hear the details. I’d rather learn about you myself. From you directly.”

  If only she were half that noble. She cleared her throat. “In the interest of being honest, I should tell you that I’ve done quite a bit of research into your life over the course of trying to figure out why the Q-group was so determined to kill you.”

  “Did you find anything in my past that bothers you?” he asked cautiously.

  “Well,” she drawled, “there was that whole French 101 debacle in college. You really are hopeless at foreign languages.”

  He laughed. “I plead guilty as charged.”

  “In the interest of honesty, I should also tell you that my past won’t stand up to scrutiny nearly as well as yours does. I was…a bit of a rebel in my youth.”

  “Well, whatever went into making you the person you are today is fine with me.”

  “Okay. You’ve embarrassed me, now. I guess that makes it my turn again.”

  He laughed. “I can’t wait. Unfortunately, I’ve got to go now. We’re going to have yet another planning meeting to set up an inauguration for me. I think we’re going to bag trying to do it publicly and just do it at the White House. One of the official photographers can film it and then we’ll release the film to the public tomorrow.

  “Sounds like a plan,” she replied earnestly. “At this point, I don’t think the nation cares about a fancy ceremony. They just want to get you safely installed in office.”

  “Agreed. My cabinet and a few key advisors are going to assemble in a couple of hours to witness the oath.”

  A chill of foreboding trickled down her spine. Why was she still so bloody sure that he was in mortal danger? It was a certainty lodged deep down in her gut, and no matter what she did, she couldn’t shake it. “Well, I’d better let you go to your meeting. I wouldn’t want to keep the nation waiting.”

  “Take care, Diana.”

  “You, too, Gabe. Be careful.”

  She set down the phone gently. She had no choice. She had to see this thing through. For him. And for herself if she was ever going to have a chance at love. She had to push through the fear, the vulnerability he provoked in her. Resolutely, she picked up her phone and asked a mobile operator to connect her to the Shoreham.

  “Joseph Lockworth’s room, please,” she told the hotel operator.

  “One moment please.”

  The phone rang a couple times, and then her grandfather’s deep voice answered. “Lockworth, here.”

  He answered that as if he expected this to be a work call. But he was retired. Of course, if he was involved with S.A.F.E. he might answer that way if he expected the call to be one of his partners in crime.

  “Grandfather. It’s Diana. We need to talk. Now.”

  “Do we, indeed?” he answered. “About what?”

  Gramps was definitely in full CIA Director mode. She answered coolly, “About a man named Richard Dunst. He used to work for you. And about the Q-group. Do they work for you, too? For S.A.F.E?”

  “Well, now. We do need to talk, don’t we? I’m a little tied up at the moment. I’ll call you in a few minutes and we’ll meet. We have a lot to talk over.”

  A lump of lead formed in her stomach. He didn’t deny it. She’d been right. He was involved in S.A.F.E. Was he the one who decided Gabe Monihan shouldn’t be President? That S.A.F.E. somehow had the right to pick and choose the nation’s leader? Had he sent that hacker to her house to frame her? Then fingered her to Delphi, too. Why? Who was this S.A.F.E. group that they could turn a man against his own flesh and blood? Especially her grandfather, to whom family loyalty was so important? Did they have something on him? Some hook to blackmail him with?

  He’d delayed setting up a rendezvous with her. He needed time before he met her, eh? Why? Who was he frantically calling right now? What was he doing before they met? Arranging another kidnapping, maybe? Her murder this time?

  She glanced up at a road sign overhead listing upcoming exits. Langley, Virginia. Home of the Central Intelligence Agency. Was it also the headquarters of S.A.F.E.? Her jaw tightened. There was one sure way to find out.

  She steered her car onto the exit ramp and followed the unobtrusive signs pointing the way to CIA headquarters. She pulled up at the front guard shack. “I’m Diana Lockworth. I’m here to meet with my grandfather, Joseph Lockworth. He told me to meet him at the front reception desk.” She flashed her military ID and DIA identification for the guy.

  He put a parking pass inside her car on the dashboard and waved her through.

  One hurdle down.

  She pulled into the parking lot, which was surprisingly crowded for this time of night. But then, after the day’s double terrorist attacks, the CIA probably had every analyst on staff at work tonight trying to track down leads on the men who’d done it and who was behind them. Was there someone inside right now, equally furiously covering those very tracks?

  She parked her car and walked toward the white, modern structure, vividly aware of the cameras and guards watching her progress toward the building. She stepped into the brightly lit glass foyer, with its modern art and the eloquent wall of anonymous stars, one for each agent who’d fallen in service of his or her country. Of course, she didn’t even make it to the CIA seal on the floor before she was directed in no uncertain terms to a visitor’s reception area. Crud. She had to get into the building somehow. Fortunately, her job gave her occasional exposure to people who worked over here in the Spook House. She needed the name of someone who worked here, and who might conceivably be here, working late tonight.

  A couple names of people she’d dealt with in the last few months popped into her head. Except she hesitated to call on anyone she’d worked with on her Q-group investigation. She wouldn’t put it past her grandfather or whoever was sabotaging her research to have gotten in contact with all of her recent colleagues.

  Samantha St. John.

  The petite, Slavic beauty was one of Josie’s best friends from Athena Academy. Sam worked for the CIA as a linguist-and undoubtedly more, although they’d never spoken about that aspect of her work. Of course, Sam traveled a ton and might not be here, but it was worth a try.

  Diana stepped up to the receptionist, if the cold-eyed man sitting behind the counter could be called that. “I’m here to see Samantha St. John. Could you ring her office for me?”

  “Is she expecting you?” the man asked coolly.

  “No, she’s not. But it’s a matter of some urgency.”

  The guy gave her a condescending look that said everything that passed through this building was a matter of some urgency. Nonetheless, he typed briefly in his com
puter and then dialed an extension on his phone. He spoke into his wireless headset, a quiet murmur Diana couldn’t hear. Which was impressive since she was standing only a foot away from the guy.

  He looked up at her. “She’ll be right down.”

  Hallelujah. Now maybe she’d get to the bottom of what and who S.A.F.E. was and stop it once and for all.

  12:00 A.M.

  D iana spied Sam’s arrival before she could actually see her by the way people’s heads were turning at her passage. Sam was one of those women who was so strikingly beautiful that people couldn’t help but stare at her.

  “Diana! What a surprise! What brings you here at this hour of the night?”

  She smiled warmly at Sam. Ever since she’d gotten together with Riley McLane, Sam had been a different woman. Warmer. More open. It was good to see. Made a girl kind of wish she could find a guy like that for herself. Diana sighed. She had found a guy like that. There was just the small problem of him becoming President of the United States at any second.

  Diana replied, “How about we go up to your office? This is actually a business visit. I have something…sensitive…to discuss with you.”

  Sam arched one eyebrow questioningly but made no comment as she signed Diana in and got her a visitor’s badge. “This way,” she said.

  Diana followed her classmate across the giant CIA seal inlaid in the floor and down a long glass-enclosed hallway beside a courtyard. They went upstairs, past a series of unmarked doors, and through another anonymous door into a cluster of glass cubicles. Sam wound her way through the maze of people and desks to a tiny office in the back, thankfully with solid walls. She picked up a stack of files off the second chair in her office and offered it to Diana.

  Diana closed the door behind her and sat down.

  “What’s up?” Sam asked.

  Diana frowned. Now wasn’t that a good question? Aloud she answered, “I don’t know how much to tell you. If I say too much, I could put your life in danger. But, I need your help, so I owe you some sort of explanation.”