by Kim Baldwin
That son of a bitch Moore was behind this, or the tunnel would be swarming with security. He had to have made sure all the cameras were deactivated. How many in the White House were involved?
Shield hesitated. She was taught to never surrender her weapon. She turned slowly to Thomas, who stood stone still, fear evident in her eyes.
“Harper, put it down,” the president said.
“Look, bitch, I can take you out now. Same to me,” the guy beside her said in a thick accent. Probably Russian, she thought.
“Please. These people are crazy,” Thomas pleaded. “Trust me.”
“Trust you?” Shield said. “You know them?”
Thomas nodded.
“Bitch, somebody’s about to get their blood mopped,” another of the masked intruders said, and cocked his gun against Thomas’s head. He had the same accent as the other. “Our cleaners can take care of it when they’re done.”
“Cleaners…done with what?” Shield asked calmly, puzzled with this surreal conversation.
“Do it,” Thomas screamed.
Shield discharged the magazine. The clatter of it on the floor made Thomas jump.
“Let’s go, suka.” The guy beside Shield kicked the magazine to his associate and grabbed her by the arm. “Clear,” he shouted.
Seconds later, two more men in masks appeared at the dark entrance, with what appeared to be a woman between them. When they stepped into the light of the tunnel, Shield gasped.
She looked from the woman, to Thomas, and back again. “What the hell—”
The new arrival was a bit heavier, but that was the only visible physical difference. She was dressed in a pantsuit identical to the one shown all over the media the day of the assassination attempt. The double looked at Thomas with disgust. “Tell your people they did an admirable job recreating me.” She stepped closer, and the two men holding her moved with her, until the two women stood almost nose to nose. “But as is the case with all imitations, the interior is always inferior.”
The woman Shield had been guarding started to respond, but the newcomer wasn’t finished. “I want my wedding ring back.”
“I left it by your bed,” the look-alike in the jeans and T-shirt replied. “I’m so sorry. They didn’t give me a choice.”
“There’s always a choice, even if it’s death.”
The double stared at her feet, her expression one of shame and embarrassment.
“I can’t stand to look at her,” the newcomer said. “Take her the hell away.”
Jason escorted the new arrival—obviously the real Elizabeth Thomas—back toward the golf cart, while the masked men shoved Shield and the look-alike roughly out the exit and into the night.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Washington, D.C.
Jack was blindfolded during her transfer to the private plane that transported them to their final destination, so it wasn’t until the aircraft descended some hours later that she was finally able to orient herself to where the hell she was. Looking out the Gulfstream’s window, she spotted the Washington Monument in the distance, the pale obelisk starkly illuminated against the night sky by spotlights.
Bill, the tall, thickly built goon that TQ had appointed as her escort, led her to a white panel van when they landed and got behind the wheel. They headed out of the city, traveling northeast toward Baltimore. Freeway traffic was so sparse at that early hour Jack realized immediately they were being followed. Because Bill had to know it too, and was unconcerned, that could only mean that the dark sedan tailing them held associates—two of them, from their silhouettes. TQ was obviously being careful to make sure everything went off without a hitch.
Jack had been warned she’d have someone with her for the job itself, but the fact that more of TQ’s people were along in another car threw a wrench in her plan. TQ wanted her to off some civilian and an EOO op, or else Cass would be killed on the spot. Jack’s priority was Cass, but to kill another op even though she no longer worked for the organization was beyond even her morals. She’d come close once before, when she’d been working for a dirty politician.
Jack had fired before she recognized an EOO op—Agent Domino—holding a knife to the senator’s throat. Fortunately, Domino’s quick reflexes had saved her; she’d pulled the politician in front of her as a shield, and Jack had killed him instead, while the op escaped out the window.
Despite the outcome, Jack had felt guilty for a long time. Maybe she didn’t like Montgomery Pierce, but she had no issues with the ops, who were just as much a victim of his ego as she was.
Tonight, she had intended to kill her driver and ask Kennedy to injure her. She planned to make it look like the EOO op had overpowered them both and escaped with Wagner. That way, she could return to TQ beat up, maybe even shot, and tell her she had tried but the op managed to steal Bill’s gun. But explaining away three of TQ’s guys would be a hard sell, even if she managed to shoot them all. Since Cass’s safety was her top priority, she had only one option. She’d have to play along.
Bill pulled off the highway long before they reached Baltimore and drove deserted back roads for another few minutes before stopping in front of an isolated two-story home. The other car stayed on their bumper and parked behind them. “Why did we stop?” Jack asked.
“To pick someone up,” he replied.
The two guys in the car behind got out and walked over. One approached Bill’s window and waited for it to lower. “The Russian just called. They’ll be ready to move in two.” He ducked his head to look over at Jack. “He said he wants to talk to you.”
“What Russian?”
“His name’s Dratshev.”
“What the hell is he doing here?”
“None of your business,” Bill said.
“You know him?” the guy standing outside asked.
“We’ve met,” Jack replied. “But what does he want now?” she mumbled to herself.
“Maybe he wants to screw you.” The guy laughed. “How the fuck should I know?”
Jack smoothly pulled a Walther P99 semiautomatic pistol from Bill’s shoulder holster and pointed it at the other one at the window. All three men, including the guy next to her, who apparently had a backup gun, drew their own weapons.
“Then why, bottom-feeding mutant, don’t you ask the fucking Russian what he wants?” Jack dropped the gun on the driver’s lap. “Just playin’.”
Bill smiled and nodded appreciatively. “You are one crazy mother—”
“Looks like the Russian’s here.” Jack saw the big guy come out of the house and head toward them. She rolled down her window and, in Russian, asked how he was.
Dratshev smiled. “Not too fucked up,” he replied. “Long time no see.”
“Yup.”
“You work for TQ now.”
“Thanks for captioning my nightmare.”
“For catching a nightmare?” the Russian asked with a confused expression.
“Never mind. So, what brings you to TQ’s party?” Jack asked.
“Business.”
“You mean it’s not her fluffy disposition?” Jack feigned shock. “Which business?”
“My favorite toys.”
“Gotta love any toy that profits a few million annually.” Jack was referring to the illegal-weapons trade.
Dratshev changed the topic. “If you work for TQ, you work for me.”
“That what you came to tell me?”
“Da. This deal means big money, so don’t fuck up.”
“Never. Your financial welfare means the world to me,” Jack said sarcastically. “And I’m sure my buddy Bill here feels the same.” She rolled her eyes in the direction of the driver.
“Good. So, good luck.” Dratshev extended his hand.
Jack looked over at him, hovering outside her window, and extended her own hand.
The Russian shook it roughly. “Be wise.” He winked.
Jack felt something in her palm. Paper. Whatever it was, Dratshev had his reasons for ke
eping it between them.
“Can’t promise.” Jack fisted the note and pulled her hand in.
Another unmarked white van, like the one they were in, emerged from behind the house and came down the driveway.
“We’re ready to go.” Bill started their vehicle and followed the van as it turned onto the street and headed back toward the highway. The dark sedan with TQ’s men got in line behind the vans. “You used to work for him?”
“Yeah.” Jack stuck her hand in her pocket to hide the paper Dratshev had given her. She’d have to wait for a private moment to see what it was.
“Hits, or what?”
“What is this, career day?”
They followed the other van for an hour as it skirted the nation’s capital. Finally, it parked at the edge of a wooded area in the countryside, and four men in masks got out. A fifth emerged from the back, with a woman in a pantsuit whose head was covered.
“Who’s that?” Jack asked.
“A woman,” Bill replied.
“Killer observational skills.”
“She’s none of your business.”
Bill kept his focus on the group as they headed into the woods, which gave Jack the opportunity to pull Dratshev’s note out. She unfolded it, but it was too damn dark in the van for any amount of squinting to make it legible. It would have to wait until later.
“Why can’t the Russians off the two women?” she asked, like she didn’t know the answer. She wanted to find out what this idiot had been told, anything to find a way out of having to kill Kennedy. This Wagner she was supposed to kill, on the other hand, should have thought twice before joining TQ’s clan.
“Because TQ wants you to do it.”
“Doesn’t make sense.”
“She’s testing you, genius,” Bill said.
“I see. What else?”
“She doesn’t want these two chicks to come back to bite her.”
“Because she doesn’t trust Dratshev will do it,” Jack said.
Bill nodded. “I don’t know why she trusts him at all.”
“How’s he involved in this deal?”
“Like he said. Business.”
“Doesn’t look like a business transaction to me,” she said. “Looks more like an exchange.”
“It is.”
“The hooded woman for the other two.”
Bill nodded.
“What’s the deal?”
“None of your business.”
“Where are we taking them?”
“There’s an abandoned building an hour away, in Alexandria.”
“Leave the bodies there?”
“Nope. Boss lady likes to play with fire.” He laughed. “She wants them shot, then burned to a crisp. No evidence, no mess.”
Jack’s plans seemed to be headed a bit closer to hell with every minute that passed. Either way, she had to gain time, see if she could improvise a new way out.
“Here they come,” Bill said.
Jack glanced at the side mirror. Dratshev’s men were coming back out of the woods, this time with two women, neither of whose faces was covered.
Bill retrieved his gun. “Get out. It’s go time.”
Jack stood beside the van’s open rear doors while the two women approached. Although it was dark, it was easy enough to make out who was who. Wagner walked with her head stooped, her demeanor submissive and defeated. The op—Kennedy—was alert and on guard, though she seemed more concerned with the woman she was with than the men with guns surrounding them.
*
Shield tried to focus on finding a way out of their predicament, but she had trouble shaking off the disturbing revelation in the tunnel. The woman she’d thought was Thomas walked just ahead of her, two men on either side. She was guarded by two as well, and the fifth masked gunman was directly behind her. The Russians were well armed—two had AK-47s—and all were so precise and coordinated in their actions she suspected they had a military background.
After a short hike through the woods, they emerged into a clearing where two vans and a dark sedan sat waiting. Two people got out of one of the vans—a man and a woman, both dressed in black—and opened the back doors as they approached. The Russians poked them forward with their automatics.
The imposter president, who had kept her head bowed the whole time, stepped into the vehicle first.
She started to follow, but the woman who stood by the door stopped her with a hand on Shield’s back.
“Wait for my signal, Kennedy,” she whispered, before she pushed Shield forward into the van.
Shield, in a crouch, spun around, but the doors slammed shut, leaving them wrapped in darkness.
Why would the woman ask her to wait for a signal?
She could hear the rapid breathing of her companion a couple of feet away to her right. Shield sat beside her, her back against the driver’s side wall, as the van started up and began to move. There was no use fumbling around in the dark to see whether there was anything in here that might be useful. The meticulous planning of this conspiracy was evident. These people left nothing to chance. “Are you all right?”
The woman’s panicky inhalations began to calm. After a long silence, she replied. “Yes.”
“Good. Now, who the hell are you?”
“I told you to leave. I warned you.”
“Who are you?” Shield tried to contain her anger.
“My name’s Ryden Wagner.”
“Why does that sound familiar?”
“My name’s been all over the news.”
“Remind me why.”
“The homicidal florist from Philadelphia.”
Shield flashed back to the news reports. This, all of this, was absurd. “Is there anything else you want to add to your curriculum vitae?”
“I didn’t kill anyone. They set me up.”
“Who did?”
“Some rich woman.”
“And Moore was in on it.”
“I don’t know what his involvement is, exactly,” Wagner replied, “but he works for her. That’s why he was all over me.”
“Why the president?” Shield couldn’t believe any of this. “I mean, this is ludicrous.”
“Apparently Thomas’s agenda against the illegal-weapons trade is inconvenient for this woman who’s behind it all, and she wanted me to take Thomas’s place to stop it.”
“And you simply agreed?” Shield was so exasperated her accent suddenly sounded much more Italian than she allowed when on a job.
“I didn’t have a choice,” Wagner curtly replied. “They were going to give me the death penalty for something I didn’t do.”
“Let me guess. They promised you a get-out-of-jail-free card, money, a new life, and a pony.”
Wagner didn’t answer right away. “I needed to believe them. It was either join them and live or certain death.”
She remembered how Wagner had stared at the news reports about herself. The image of her mug shot sprang to mind. The cute bookworm type with the thick glasses. “The florist in the news looked nothing like you.”
“They had me…altered.”
“But still—”
“It was a bad picture, okay?”
“How long had they been grooming you?” A florist would need plenty of preparation time to pass so effectively and convincingly as the chief executive.
“More than two months of operations and lessons in…everything.”
Who the hell was the woman behind all this? And where did she find the financial and other resources to accomplish such a scheme? “I can’t believe you agreed to this,” Shield finally said. “And I can’t believe you acted the part so well.”
“Look, I’m going to talk to them when we get out, explain to them you—”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Don’t you think I wanted to? Moore would have killed us both if he so much as suspected I’d said anything. For the longest time, he even had me believing you were put there to spy on me. I had no idea Jason
was the one hired to do that. Moore kept telling me I was surrounded by people involved in the plan.”
“You even fooled Thomas’s family.” That was a weak consolation for Shield’s own failure to see through the guise.
“I almost blew it when the sister got personal, but Moore stepped in.”
“I just can’t believe you didn’t tell me. I could have gotten us out of there. I could’ve exposed Moore and the rest. Instead you lied and lied and led me to believe you…” What was the point? This woman was clearly too involved and too much of a coward to understand a word she was saying. She sighed. “Forget it.”
They sat in darkness and silence for a long while.
“Where are they taking us?” Wagner asked.
“What does it matter?” Shield replied.
“I’m sorry.”
“Really? Because that makes it better.”
“I’m not going to leave you with them,” Wagner said. “I’ll tell them you have nothing to do with this.”
“With what, exactly?”
“The plan. That you were never part of anything, knew nothing about me or Thomas or who’s involved or why they did this.”
“Is it because you’re that naïve or because you’re from the great state of denial that you think these people give a damn?” Shield tried to control the anger that for some reason outweighed her worry. “If I didn’t know what was going on before, I know now. And aside from that, Moore is aware I suspected something was up and that I’d realize something was wrong the minute the real president returned. I would have landed here anyway. They’re not going to let me, or you, for that matter, go anywhere.”
“But they—”
“Does this look like a ride to freedom?”
“But they promised me—”
“Do you think they’re going to leave any evidence or witnesses to what they’ve managed to pull?”
“I…”
“We’re talking about the U.S. president, not some boyfriend you lied to about his ability to give you amazing orgasms. You’ve deceived the nation. The whole damn world. They’re not going to let us walk and risk you or me talking.”