“No need,” Vadim said, clinking his glass to his brother’s. “You heard me. I’ve checked the math. All we have to do now is fly to Jackson Hole and watch the fireworks. It should be a pretty good show.”
TWENTY-SIX
SATURDAY AFTERNOON;
GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON, D.C.
“ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT to do this?” Samantha asked, getting out of Brett’s car, parked across the street from Montrose Park.
Summer in Georgetown was glorious until the humidity hit. Right now, dogwoods still flowered in front of brick row houses. But it wouldn’t be long before the white blossoms were replaced by a heavy canopy of dark green leaves and stifling temperatures. She wanted to get out and enjoy the mild weather while she could.
“Yes,” Brett said, locking his car and pocketing the keys. “I know you usually work on Saturday mornings, but I am more than happy to be your security detail if you want to run today. Besides, I need the exercise, and the scenery here is much better than my apartment building’s fitness center.” He scanned the area and only saw two couples strolling along R Street. “Okay, which way?”
Samantha started walking across the street. “Over there. Sometimes I run along the river, but I discovered this trail a while ago that will be perfect for a day like this. C’mon.”
They entered the park and started jogging along her familiar route. When they reached a set of monkey bars, they stopped for a quick drink from their water bottles and continued.
Sidestepping a fallen branch, Samantha glanced over at Brett who was wearing a gray T-shirt and navy shorts. He looked good in a suit but even better in running clothes. She could see the muscles in his arms and calves and the outline of a gun in the waistband of his shorts. Samantha was used to seeing him carry it. He had taken many turns with other agents to drive her around town since that first night.
Tripp had been too focused on finalizing his next contract and securing his next promotion to call or email lately. She hadn’t heard from him since he left for his latest foreign assignment, negotiating an oil deal somewhere in Mexico. But she was starting to learn that absence doesn’t always make the heart grow fonder. Maybe it gives it license to wander sometimes.
She thought about that as she leapt over a hole in the path. Clearing the gap reminded her of when she used to play hopscotch with her grade-school friends in Houston. They would draw squares on her driveway with colored chalk and see how many they could hop over without losing their balance. She wished she could still hurtle over problems that way.
Brett suddenly jogged behind her and matched her pace on the other side of the trail. She smiled at him and realized how calm she was whenever he was nearby. As long as he was the one coordinating her security, maybe she could keep her balance after all.
They kept running at a good pace for thirty minutes and then circled back to the park entrance. “That was good,” Brett said, sitting down at one of the picnic benches. “This where you want to cool off?” he asked, taking a swig of water.
“I usually go next door. There’s a pretty little cemetery and chapel over there.” She pointed to the left. “Want to see it?”
“Sure,” Brett said. “Just stay close.”
They walked slowly past a pair of open iron gates. Looking down the path, Samantha noticed an old man sitting on a wrought iron bench with a golden retriever lying quietly by his side. “I’ve seen him here a few times. His name is Wilkinson,” she said, motioning toward the bench. “He’s become a bit of a friend. His family’s buried over there. He worked at the State Department eons ago. Come say hello.”
“Okay,” Brett said.
When they reached the bench, Samantha said, “Hi, Will. Good to see you today. I want you to meet someone. This is Brett Keating.”
The old man was hunched over. He slowly looked up at them and smiled. “A new young man for you?”
“Well, no. He’s kind of a colleague,” she said, somewhat embarrassed.
“Good to meet you,” Will said, extending a shaky hand to Brett who walked up and shook it. Brett noticed a wooden cane lying in the grass next to the bench.
“Samantha tells me you’re here a lot,” Brett said, gazing around at the freshly cut lawn and scattered flower beds. He also spotted a nearby fountain with a small bird statue in its center. “I can see why.”
“Yes, it’s usually very quiet. It’s been pleasant seeing Samantha sometimes on the weekends. I don’t think I mentioned it before, but she reminds me of my granddaughter, Brittany. Same long hair. Same nice smile.”
“Really?” Samantha said. “You haven’t told me about your family, just your wife.”
“They don’t live around here. My son is an ambassador now. To Switzerland.”
“That’s impressive,” Brett said. “And what about your granddaughter?”
“Oh, she’s in college now. Dickenson University,” he said proudly. “Please sit if you need to stretch your legs. You both look like you’ve been running.”
They gratefully joined him on the bench and stretched their sore muscles. “It’s such a nice day. I hope we have more like it before the humidity comes,” Samantha said.
“Me too. The heat and humidity will be moving in soon, but we may get lucky,” Will said. They chatted for several minutes. Finally, Wilkinson sighed and scooped up his dog’s leash. “I’d better get back. Time to feed Roosevelt,” Will said, lifting the dog’s leash with a wink. “It’s been nice seeing you two.” He grabbed his cane and struggled to push himself up.
“Wait,” Brett said, helping the man stand up. “Let us go with you. We’re done here anyway. Right, Samantha?”
“Absolutely,” she said. “We’ll walk you to your car. Is it parked nearby?”
“Just down the block,” he said. “Not too many cars on R Street on a Saturday. Of course, that’s never the case during the rest of the week.”
They walked out of the gate and started to cross the street. Roosevelt broke free and raced across the crosswalk with his leash trailing behind him, leaving Samantha to lead the trio’s slow charge. Brett took Will’s arm and followed her. She paused in the middle of the street and tilted her head, listening to something.
A black Acura suddenly screeched around the corner and barreled straight for Samantha. Her eyes widened as Brett dropped Wilkinson’s arm and dove for her. He shoved her toward the curb just as the car careened past, hitting Will and knocking him to the ground before speeding off.
The dog barked furiously as he ran into the street. Roosevelt put his nose on Wilkinson’s face and began to whine.
“Oh my god,” Samantha screamed as she scrambled up and ran to the old man.
Brett jumped up and squinted to read the license plate of the car, but it was already turning down a side street. He watched it disappear and then raced to where Samantha was kneeling next to Will.
“He’s unconscious,” she sobbed.
Brett fumbled in his pocket and ripped out his cell phone. “Calling 911.” He punched in the number, explained what had happened, and then described their location. “We have to get him out of the street,” Brett said, hanging up the phone. “Though I hate to move him. Can’t see if anything’s broken.”
Roosevelt started to howl and paw the pavement next to Wilkinson.
“I don’t believe this,” Samantha said in a shaky voice as tears streamed down her face. “That car was heading for me. I know it. And the bastard hit Will instead. We’ve got to help him.”
“EMTs should be here pretty quickly,” Brett said. He took the man’s pulse. “Kind of weak, but he’s hanging in there. I don’t see any blood. Let’s try to lift him.”
Just then, several other people ran out of the park. Roosevelt barked at the gathering crowd as it started firing off questions.
“What happened?”
“Heart attack?”
“Is he badly hurt?”
“Should I call 911?”
“Did that,” Brett shouted. “We just need to get
him off the road,” he called out as two teenage boys reached down to lift the old man’s legs. Brett put his arms under Wilkinson’s chest and turned his head toward Samantha. “Support his head and neck.”
She immediately cradled Will’s head and neck with her hands. The group gingerly lifted his limp body and carried it to the sidewalk. They gently laid him on the ground and waited several anxious minutes before they heard a siren wailing in the distance. When the ambulance appeared around the corner, the crowd had grown and Roosevelt was trying to lick his master’s face.
“Let me talk to them,” Brett said in a low voice to Samantha. “I don’t want the local police involved in your case or getting in our way over this. Hit and run. That’s what it looked like, okay?”
Samantha was trying to swipe away tears with the back of her hand. This was no accident. This was attempted murder. She was sure of it. She began to shake. “Brett, this isn’t—”
“I know. I know. This is terrible. I should have saved him, but—”
“You saved me instead,” Samantha said with a hard look.
Brett looked at her and touched her chin. “Let’s stay together on this. We’ll find that guy.”
She nodded and hung her head. “I want to go to the hospital with Will. I want to see if he’ll be all right.”
“Of course,” Brett said. “We’ll both go.” Brett grabbed Roosevelt’s leash. “C’mon, boy. Stay with me. We’ll take care of you at headquarters for now.”
Samantha watched the ambulance pull up. A team of EMTs quickly poured out of the vehicle and onto the sidewalk. As they conducted their initial exam of the body, Brett explained what had happened. Then the EMTs retrieved Wilkinson’s identification from his wallet and started strapping him into a stretcher. As soon as he was safely loaded into the ambulance, the driver turned to Brett and said, “We’re headed to Georgetown Hospital. Entrance Three on Reservoir Road is Emergency. If you can follow us, they’ll want a statement and any help you can give.”
“We’ll be right behind you. Got my car over there,” Brett said.
The ambulance pulled away and drove off with its siren blaring. Brett, Samantha, and Roosevelt walked to Brett’s car in silence. As Brett led the dog into the back seat, Samantha buckled herself into the passenger seat and thought a long, wordless prayer for her friend. Then she wondered when she would be targeted next.
TWENTY-SEVEN
SATURDAY LATE AFTERNOON;
SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE’S been no action?” Vadim screamed into the phone.
“Um . . . what I meant was I’ve been waiting for the best opportunity to take care of this project. It just hasn’t happened yet. She’s never alone,” Otto said apologetically. He didn’t want to say too much on a cell phone. You never knew who might be listening in or trying to track your calls.
Otto also didn’t want to tell his uncle that he had tried to hit Samantha Reid with his car. He wasn’t trying to kill her, just put her out of commission for a while. That way, she wouldn’t be a threat to Vadim’s businesses, and he would have some time to figure out his next move. At least, that had been his plan.
“I send you there, pay your expenses, give you one simple job, and you come up with nothing. How much longer before you get this done?” Vadim said.
Otto paused, wondering what he should say next. He had no idea when he would be able to get close to his target again. And he didn’t want to leave Jolene any time soon. She was the first girl who had paid him any attention, and he was getting hooked. He cleared his throat and tried to come up with a logical answer to Vadim’s question.
“Do you have a certain date in mind when you want everything finished?” Otto asked.
“As soon as possible. I keep seeing articles about how certain people are working with other governments to shut down a lot of accounts. We don’t want those accounts to be on anyone’s radar. Not in this business.”
“Sure. I get that,” Otto said, stalling for time while he thought up a new excuse. “Tell you what. I have the equipment you mailed me, and I’m getting to know the city pretty well. If you give me more time, I should be all set in another couple of weeks.”
“Another couple of weeks?” Vadim exploded. Then he paused for a long moment.
By next week, he would be in Jackson taking care of his own assignment, and the Reid woman would be there too. What would he do with Otto? He had no plans to fly him to Wyoming. He’d probably screw up something else if he were there. But he didn’t want the kid hanging around the San Francisco apartment while it was empty.
The more he considered the situation, the more it made sense to leave the boy back East. What were another couple of weeks at a Holiday Inn? As long as Otto kept out of sight and didn’t get tied to the Naples bombing, it would be nice not to have to think about his useless nephew for a while. He wouldn’t say anything about Reid attending the conference. After all, if Otto nailed her first, they could just concentrate on the financial leaders.
“All right, but you listen to me,” Vadim said. “Don’t do anything stupid. I’m letting you stay there for now. Maksim and I have our own projects to attend to. Out of town.”
“Oh? Where are you going?”
“We have some business in Wyoming. It doesn’t concern you. I’ll contact you when we get back. Meanwhile, just do your job and keep a low profile. Got that?”
“Yes, Yes. I get it. And I will.”
Vadim switched off the call and walked to his bar to pour himself a drink. By the time he returned to his desk, he saw that Stas had sent him another text.
“Returning to SFO tomorrow night to explain grand plan,” it said.
Vadim took a sip and smiled.
TWENTY-EIGHT
SUNDAY AFTERNOON;
GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON, D.C.
SAMANTHA AND BRETT STOOD IN front of the Georgetown Hospital reception desk, waiting to hear if Wilkinson had been moved out of intensive care and into a private room. The volunteer manning the desk confirmed that he had and gave them his room number.
“Thank God,” Samantha said. “You have no idea how many prayers I’ve been saying.”
“I understand,” Brett said. “When the car first hit him, I was afraid he was dead. But he must be tougher than he looks.”
Brett and Samantha walked to the elevators and rode up two floors. The smell of alcohol and antiseptics greeted them as they stepped into the hall and started looking for the right room. It was an unwelcome reminder to Samantha of the time she had spent in her husband’s hospital room just before he died. “Here it is,” Brett said, making a beeline for a door in the middle of the hall. “Looks like somebody’s in there with him.”
They knocked on the open door and heard a young woman’s voice. “Come in.”
A lovely girl who looked nineteen or twenty sat next to Wilkinson’s bed. Her long, auburn hair was held back with a colorful blue headband. As they stepped into the room, she jumped up and held out her hand. “Hi. I’m Brittany. You must be Samantha and Brett, right?”
Samantha quickly closed the gap between her and Brittany. Instead of shaking hands, she gave the girl a quick hug. “Thank you so much for coming. When I got your number from your college, I didn’t know if you could get away, but I figured you would want to know,” Samantha said.
“Of course I wanted to know. Thank you so much for calling,” Brittany said. “Please feel free to pull up those chairs. I can’t thank you enough for getting Grandad here and checking in on him until I could borrow a car and drive down last night.”
Brett got the chairs while Samantha leaned over the bed to touch Wilkinson’s arm. “How are you doing?” she asked. “Are the nurses taking good care of you?”
Will was sitting up in bed with a tube trailing from his right hand to an IV machine that stood next to him. His other arm was in a sling, and a few bandages covered his head in patches. “Considering what you told Brittany about that driver, I feel pretty lucky
. Just a small break below the elbow and a mild concussion. Could have been a whole lot worse.”
Brittany scooted her chair closer and took his hand. “Grandad, you’re strong. I knew you’d be okay. I’m just glad the accident gave me an excuse to get out of some classes and head down here.”
“When do you have to go back?” Samantha asked her.
“I’ll stay until he’s ready to go home. You mentioned the FBI is taking care of Roosevelt. I hope he hasn’t been too much trouble. He’s usually wonderful.”
“Not at all,” Brett said. “After we leave here, I’ll bring him to Wilkinson’s house. Can you take care of him until your grandfather is released?”
“Oh sure. No problem.”
“Here’s my cell,” Brett said, handing her a card. “Just call me when you leave here, and I’ll drive him over.”
“Sounds like a plan. I only have one more final, so I’ll just study here. The doctors said Grandad will probably be discharged in another day or two. When I get him home, I’ll make sure he has someone who can be there 24/7 to cook for him and all of that. He has a housekeeper who can be there some of the time, and we’ve got friends in the neighborhood. I’m working on it.”
“Good for you,” Samantha said. “With your folks overseas, I’m sure they’re proud of you coming to the rescue like this.”
Brittany grinned. “I texted my dad. He’s in Geneva. He said he was grateful I could be here. They can’t get away right now, but he knows I’ll take care of everything. So, we’re good.”
Samantha turned to Wilkinson. “Getting any sleep?”
The old man shook his head and gave her a thin smile. “In a hospital? Not a chance.”
“Tell them about last night, Grandad,” Brittany said. “You won’t believe it.”
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