by Amy Gamet
She was pacing the house, the grounds, going from one group of policemen to another, hoping to hear of a plan or something she could do to help in the search and repeatedly coming up empty.
Her hand trailed along the paneled wall of the hallway that led to her father’s room. His deep, booming voice could be heard before she reached the doorway.
“They have no need to issue demands. The threat has already been made. Drop out of the race or Nico will be killed.”
“If he’s still alive,” came Matteo’s voice.
She stormed into the room. “Don’t say that! My baby is alive. He’s going to come back to me.”
Matteo stood and put his arms on her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were there.”
“At least give my son the courtesy of assuming he’s alive and in need of rescuing before you simply write him off forever.”
“I’m not writing anyone off,” he said. “I believe he’s alive, and I will do everything in my power to get him back to you.”
“That responsibility is mine,” said Vasile. “I’ve had my secretary call a press conference for one o’clock, where I will officially drop out of the run for president.”
“But Father—”
“It’s the only thing they want. The only thing that can bring my grandson home to his mother. And to me.” Her father’s voice cracked, the most emotion she’d seen him express in years.
“What happens to the country when Trane wins the presidency?” she asked.
“We pray for them. Our family has made enough sacrifices in the name of patriotism. Now it’s time to protect our own.”
Grace nodded, her face crumpling into tears. Her father was giving up his ideals, everything he’d worked so hard for. She knew how much that meant to him, the price he was being asked to pay. “How can we be sure they’ll bring him back?”
Matteo walked to her and opened his arms. She fell into them. “We can only hope,” he said. “HERO Force is on their way in. They’ll be here within the hour. Together we’ll do everything we can to bring Nico home.”
“I want to help. I need to do something.”
A knock on the door and it opened, Talia standing there. “Sir, they’re ready for you now.”
Vasile nodded solemnly and led the way out of the room, Matteo and Grace following him, taking their seats to the side of the press corps. “This is a sad day for history,” she whispered as her father took to the podium, cameras flashing and recording.
“Ladies and gentlemen, fellow countrymen,” he began. “It is with great sorrow that I tell you I am resigning from this campaign.” A collective exclamation buzzed through the room. “I will not be running for the presidency in this term or any other. I have enjoyed my time leading Lutsia, but it is time for me to step aside.”
The camera flashes went crazy as reporters vied to have their questions answered. “Mr. President, can you tell us what’s prompted this sudden change of direction?”
“I have decided to put the needs of my family before those of my countrymen. I sincerely hope the hardworking people of Lutsia understand.”
“Mr. President, who will be left to lead the charge against Victor Trane in the coming election? Has your party nominated another candidate?”
“It’s too early to say who my party will delegate to run in the election. We have not yet made any plans for my replacement.”
Grace whispered in Matteo’s ear, “He’s leaning forward. Is he okay? Why’s he doing that?”
“And he’s white as a sheet.” He took her hand. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“What’s happening?”
Before he could answer her, Vasile fell to one side, just barely catching himself on the podium. The room filled with concerned noises as Grace and Matteo made their way to the front.
Vasile fell over, landing on the floor with a heavy thud.
“Daddy!” Grace screamed.
“Back up! Give him some space,” said Matteo. “Get a medic in here, now.” Matteo searched Vasile’s pockets frantically, desperate to find the vile that could save his father-in-law’s life.
“What’s happening?” asked Grace. “What are you looking for?”
“Nitroglycerin.”
She didn’t speak again. He found the pills, quickly opening them and placing one beneath the president’s tongue. He looked different this time than he had during the other attack Matteo had witnessed, his color paler, his features still.
Matteo feared he was dead. “Is there an AED in the building?”
“What?” asked Grace.
“A defibrillator to shock his heart.”
One of the reporters called out, “In the cafeteria.”
“Quick, run and grab it,” said Matteo.
“Mr. Cruz, were you aware your father-in-law had a heart condition?”
Matteo’s head snapped up. “You should go. Get out of here. We need to make room for the medics.”
The reporters didn’t budge.
Matteo stood and pushed at cameras and microphones. “Get out of here, now. His life depends on it, you fools. Back up, dammit.” He was pushing at the reporters now, aware of the lights in his face and the footage that was recording.
None of that mattered now. All that mattered was that Vasile survived. Grace had already lost her child. He couldn’t stand for her to lose anyone else.
He had to get out there himself, had to try to find Nico.
He pushed the last reporter out the door and closed it tightly behind him. His eyes found General Talia’s. “I need access to weapons. Lots of them. And transportation. HERO Force is landing in fifteen minutes and I’m going to find my son.”
34
Matteo stood back as the chopper landed on the helipad. Hawk was only off by a few feet. Not bad for somebody with as few flight hours as he had.
Bending at the waist, he jogged to the door, opening it for his teammates. It felt like more time had passed than a few weeks, like these men were from a different lifetime, and it struck him that he felt torn between his life here at the mansion and his former identity as a member of this elite team.
He was the husband of President Vasile’s daughter, father of Nico, lover of Grace. But this was who he was, too.
Cowboy hopped down to the ground, nodding in acknowledgment over the roar of the slowing rotors. Next came Logan and a lanky man Matteo didn’t recognize, followed by Hawk.
When the noise died down, Cowboy said, “Red, this is Austin. The latest addition to the team.”
Matteo eyed the other man and shook his hand. “When did you start?”
“Twenty minutes before we took off.”
“Welcome aboard,” said Matteo. “We’re going to need all the help we can get.”
The men made their way across the roof to the entrance of the mansion stairwell. Matteo briefed them as he walked, his voice echoing off the cinderblock. “The baby was taken from his room this morning. We’re operating under the assumption that it’s the same people who left a threatening note in his crib and the president’s study before I arrived, a group called Ten Komanda.”
“Have they made any demands?” asked Hawk.
“They asked Vasile to resign, which he has done. There’s been no further contact. We have search dogs on the way. Do you have anything for me?”
Logan piped up. “I did have some luck with the household employee list you gave me. Trudy Winslow, a maid, has been living with Vladimir Petrov, one of the Ten Komanda members, for about six months now.
Matteo stopped short. “That’s the father of Grace’s baby and her personal maid, who has access to Nico on a daily basis. She didn’t come in today. Do you have an address?”
“Twenty-seven eighteen Wilshire Boulevard, apartment three.”
“Then we start with Trudy.”
The men piled into Vasile’s private car, giving the address to the driver.
“Drive like your life depends on it,” said Matteo.
They made t
he trip across town in record time, but it was still too late for poor Trudy. Cowboy broke down the door of the apartment and found her dead and wide-eyed, staring in the ceiling from a pool of her own blood.
Matteo cursed under his breath. “Quickly. Search the apartment.”
The men spread out and started to move. “What are we looking for?” asked Cowboy.
“I don’t know. Locations. Events. Anything that might have to do with the baby or their plan to sully Vasile’s name.”
“Baseball tickets,” said Cowboy.
“What?” asked Matteo, coming up short.
Cowboy fanned out a dozen ticket stubs. “I’ve got ten bucks says these are the tickets they used to get into the stadium and plant the bomb.”
Suddenly, Matteo knew what they were looking for. “The subway. Look for anything that happens to do with the subway. I think they’re planning their last and final terrorist attack on the subway.”
Matteo went through drawers, throwing things out of his way as he searched. Inch by inch they frantically searched the tiny apartment for anything that could lead them to Nico.
“South Street Station,” called Austin from the bedroom. “Over here! I found a map of South Street Station.”
“South Street Station?” asked Logan. “Oh, no. Holy fuck. What’s today’s date?”
Matteo looked at his watch. “The sixteenth.”
Logan put his hands on his head. “The vigil is tonight. The vigil for the people who died in the pedestrian bridge bombing.”
“What’s the connection?” asked Cowboy.
“I watched hours and hours of the satellite feed from the bridge area. It starts at South Street Station.”
“Shit!” yelled Matteo. “They’re going to do it again, in the same place with the people at the vigil.”
“And the subway. It’s all right there, Red,” said Logan.
“What time does the vigil start?”
“Nine o’clock.”
Matteo looked back at his watch. “It’s eight twenty-five. Move! Let’s go now.”
35
Grace walked into her father's bedroom. She hadn't been in here since the night her mother died, something which would have made her emotional to begin with. The fact that her father was now lying on the bed right where her mother had passed away, and that he looked nearly dead himself, was her undoing. Tears spilled from her eyes onto her cheeks and she wiped them away with the backs of her hands.
When did he get so old? In her mind, he was as formidable now as he had been her whole life, but reality struck her in stark contrast. The old man on the bed was not formidable in any way.
He was frail.
He was sick.
He was dying.
She made her way to the edge of the bed. He couldn’t die yet. They had too much unsettled between them, too much to fix in the time they had left, and the possibility that her relationship with her father would never be mended struck Grace in the face.
I should have tried harder to get along with him. He just wanted me to do a good job, do the right thing, be a good person. She wiped at her runny nose. Her father opened his eyes. They were gray and watery and for a minute he didn't seem to realize she was there.
"Hi, Daddy." Her voice cracked and she wished she could stifle these emotions, hide from him just how upset she really was, but that thought only had her crying harder.
"Gracie." He reached for her hand, his grip surprisingly strong.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked. It was the question that had been haunting her since she’d spoken with her father's physician. Her father knew he was ill. He'd known for some time.
"It wasn't important."
"It was important to me. There's so much I need to say to you, and now we don't have much time."
"I'm sorry, honey. For what I said about Nico."
Your bastard child.
His eyes drifted closed. "He's beautiful, my grandson."
Those simple words were the only balm her soul needed, and they washed over her like the highest praise. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you more, and that I haven't been so nice to you since Mom passed away."
"I understood. She was your favorite."
Now Grace was the one hanging on tightly. "No, Daddy. You were. I loved Mom so much, but she was easy to love. I always wanted to be like you."
She watched as tears spilled from his eyes and rolled back into the pillow. She'd never seen him cry, not even when her mother died.
"I know what you're thinking," he said. "I cried for her every night. Just because you didn't see me doesn't mean I didn't love her."
"I know you did." Grace looked at their joined hands and it struck her how time had flown by, taking hers from that of a little girl to a grown woman, and her father’s from a young man to an old one. Each of them had a limited amount of time on this earth to do with what they wanted. Every moment counted.
She was grateful her parents had loved each other. Had each other to share this life with.
Just like I love Matteo.
She covered her mouth with her hand. Hadn’t she known it for quite some time now? Since the first night she’d let him sleep in her bed on the other side of the baby?
They made a little family, and for too long, she’d told herself it was the fantasy she was falling in love with, not the man. But it wasn't true, she could see that now. It was the other way around. She'd been falling in love with the man and the fantasy they’d created. That perfect little family was real if she would let it be.
She just needed her son back and she would have everything she’d ever wanted.
"I need you to do something for me," said her father. "For all of us."
“All of us?” There had only been the two of them for so long.
"I want you to run for the presidency in my place.”
She shook her head frantically. "You're going to be okay. You're going to pull through this."
"Even if that were true, I collapsed on television in front of the nation. I can hide this no longer. It was never my intention to lie. I just had to make sure the bad guy didn't win. I did what I did to protect this country."
"I know you did."
"But now I can't do it any longer. It's up to you." He looked at her pointedly.
"I'm not a politician. I don't have the experience—"
"The people love you, perhaps even more than me. You are well versed in the topics required of the presidency, pruned for this since you were a little girl discussing politics over breakfast. You have watched me do this job, helped me do this job, and you are ready to do it yourself now."
He believed in her.
Even more so than him asking to her to take over the run for the presidency, the fact that he believed in her—thought she was capable—was what filled her with awe. How had she ever believed this man didn't love her?
She could do it. She knew she could. When it came to politics, she and her father were of the same mind. She knew just what he wanted for the country, because she wanted it, too. And she realized he was right.
She could do this.
"I'll need your help to guide me," she said. "I don't want you giving up the fight, thinking I'll take care of it, do you understand?"
"It isn’t up to me, Gracie."
"Of course it is. Just tell God that Nico needs his grandfather." She wiped at her tears. “And I need you, too.”
Her father squeezed her hand.
"God willing, Nico will come back to you. But you have a larger family than you realize of people who depend on you. Of those to whom much is given, much is expected, and you have been given a great deal."
She nodded. "I know."
"You've already made great sacrifices. There will be more."
"I know."
"You did a good thing marrying the HERO man. Do you love him?"
"How did you know?"
"I knew he was meant for you when he told me he would not be my spy, that he was your husband first. Fr
om then on, it's just been a matter of time.” He patted her hand. “Now you should let your father rest and go tell your husband you wish to marry him for real."
"What if he doesn't feel the same way?"
"Of course he does. And tell him I'd like to see the ceremony, so he better hurry it up."
“I need Nico here with me first.”
“Then go out there and find your boy.”
36
Logan tapped his cell phone. “GPS says we’re eighteen minutes away from the station.”
Cowboy banged on the glass that separated them from Vasile’s driver. “Go fucking faster.” The car sped up considerably.
“What’s the plan?” asked Cowboy.
Matteo held up his hand, his cell phone to his ear. “Talia, it’s Matteo. Ten Komanda is going to blow up South Street Station during the vigil tonight. I’m on my way there with HERO Force. I need you to get word to the police that we’ll be there with weapons, so they don’t think we’re the terrorists. And I can’t get Grace on the phone. Let her know what’s going on and I’ll call when I can.” He hung up the phone and met Cowboy’s stare. “Voice mail.”
“You love this woman?”
He saw Logan and Hawk staring from his peripheral vision. “Yeah.”
“Really love her?” asked Hawk.
Matteo turned to face him. “I’m going to marry her.”
“I think you already did,” said Cowboy.
“For real, this time.”
“This map doesn’t make any sense,” said Austin. “According to this, three subway lines converge at South Street Station, but only one set of tracks is shown.”
“Maybe it’s an old map. I looked it up online and they made some changes to it fifteen or sixteen years ago.” said Logan. “Let me see.”
“All right, kids,” said Hawk. “We’ve got your standard issue AK-47s, we’ve got some spiffy new nine mils, we’ve got some CS gas and masks if we need ’em and some military-issue pepper spray coming at you.” He started passing weapons to the men.