Had he killed that poor woman?
TWO
Grady sank to one knee beside her, pulled his radio out with one hand and called in to Command about the man who’d run off. There wasn’t any visible blood, and yet her floral print dress had a hole in the front. He laid two fingers of his free hand on her throat. Strong and steady pulse. She was alive? He glanced back at the gunman he’d secured, now lying on his side watching them. Johnson his shirt said. Was that his real name?
Command responded that they would send agents to find the man who’d run off.
Grady said, “See if you can figure out why he has a weapon with real bullets as well.” A woman had been caught in the crossfire because someone messed up. None of the hostiles were supposed to have real bullets, just blanks. And how had the man managed to get that past security? “I’ll bring in the guy I have here, once I get the woman up and escorted out.”
The woman gasped. He looked at her in time to see her eyes were open. She sat halfway up, much faster than an old woman should react. “What—”
He touched her shoulder, keeping half his attention on the man. “Easy.”
She shifted her shoulders and hissed in pain. “I can’t believe they shot me.” The woman felt the area where the bullet had hit her, then pulled aside the hole to reveal the end of a bullet lodged there.
“You have a protective vest on?” If she was fine, he didn’t need an ambulance to come. But he did need to get the gunman glaring at him from the floor booked into custody. They would have to figure out who his partner was, and whether this was all part of the exercise. But why involve an old woman?
One wearing a vest.
Okay, so nothing about this made any sense.
The woman sat up fully, frowned and scooted farther from him on the floor. Her gaze was a million miles away. “They were going to shoot me.”
“Who are you?” Nothing about her made any sense. “I’m glad you’re alive and all, but you need to start talking.”
She clasped one wrist with her other and slid her hand down, peeling back the skin.
“Wha—”
The wrinkles fell to the floor and revealed soft skin on her wrist and hand. Young skin. Now that he was closer to her, not behind the security desk, he realized her gray hair looked like it could be a wig. But without the discrepancy between that young skin, and the wrinkles on her face it was hard to tell. It wasn’t synthetic hair.
Someone had gone to a great deal of effort to make this woman look nothing like herself. A disguise? Grady shifted while his mind roiled with questions. Was she yet another part of the exercise? “Why did that man shoot at you? Was it part of the exercise?”
“I don’t think so.”
“He had real bullets.”
“I overheard…” She shook her head. “They were actually going to kill me.”
She shrugged one shoulder, then pulled the wig off. Removed the stocking and shook out her blond hair. She pulled a hairband from her dress pocket and tied her hair back. Now he could see the edges of where wrinkled skin had been cosmetically added to her face.
A face he’d seen before, but only in a photo.
“That’s some costume. But I can see your face showing.” Grady stared her down. “Tell me your name.”
The corner of her mouth curled up. Before she could answer, a response came over his radio. He held up one finger and listened to the conversation while she peeled the latex off her face. That was when he realized who she was.
He relayed to her what he’d heard over his earpiece. “Agents downstairs haven’t seen the shooter…Skylar Austin.”
She gaped at her name but said, “Did Simmons go upstairs?”
“Simmons?” He glanced around, mostly to keep himself from staring at her blue-gray eyes. The tanned skin of someone who enjoyed being outdoors. The only upside was that in saving an old woman, he’d inadvertently completed his priority task: making sure Skylar Austin came through the exercise unscathed.
She said, “That was the name on his jacket.” Then motioned to the man still bound on the floor. “That one is Johnson.”
“If this Simmons guy went upstairs, they’d have seen him emerge in the hallway.” He got back on his radio. “Anything on camera?”
“Negative,” was the response back from Command. “Cameras are down.”
The command post, set up outside as though the White House really were under siege, would have limited contact now that things were underway. It was up to the agents inside, and how it played out would depend on what angle the hostiles took. How they planned to commandeer the building and everyone inside.
Sometimes an agent would play the commander-in-chief for an exercise, but not this time. Did the hostiles want to destroy the White House itself, a blow to America that would be felt nationwide? Or was their plan something different? Of course, it was only an exercise, but they had to be prepared for any eventuality. For any of the threats made against the office of the president, the man himself and the White House, on a daily basis. The Secret Service could never be over prepared.
He shook his head for Skylar’s benefit. “The hostiles must have taken out the cameras.”
“So, he’s hiding somewhere?” She shifted her feet under her and hopped up to standing, all pretense of being elderly gone now. Though she seemed to still be stiff, and she laid a hand on her sternum.
“Hurts?”
“I didn’t think it would be that painful.”
He glared at Johnson. Still watching them, a calculating look on his face. What was the guy up to? “He might have broken your sternum if he was close enough.”
She exhaled a breath and smiled. “Sure feels like he might’ve. So you know who I am. You gonna tell me your name now?”
“Secret Service Agent Grady Farrow.”
Her eyes widened.
Why that intrigued him, he wasn’t sure. Something about his name meant something to Skylar Austin.
She covered her reaction fast and said, “I figured out the Secret Service part from the fact that you have a badge, a star and the words SECRET SERVICE plastered across the front of your vest.”
He shrugged. “This way there’s no confusion about who is in charge.”
She laughed, a low chuckle that almost sounded rusty. “I’ll have to remember that.”
He got on his radio and called in that he had Skylar Austin with him.
“You’ve been looking for me? I thought my file you have on your desk was just about the exercise.”
“We don’t know who the hostiles are beforehand, and considering you’re a trainee, everyone is on the lookout. I had your file because Intel sent it over. We take care of our—”
“Grady!”
Johnson slammed into him.
Grady felt the hands wrap around his own a second before his hip hit the floor. Johnson had cut himsef free of the zip ties, and now the man was intent on using that knife on Grady.
He spilled over from the crouch he’d been in to land on the hardwood. Plastic cracked, but he ignored whatever it was and deflected the knife while he grabbed for his weapon. Johnson—if that was his real name—tried to wrestle the gun from Grady.
There was no way he would let this guy get his gun.
Skylar grabbed the pillow of a nearby chair, the only thing within reach from the floor. She swung it around and slammed it into Johnson’s head. The knife fell to the floor.
The gunman blinked. Probably more in surprise than anything else. Skylar kicked the knife away.
Grady punched him. Johnson fought back. Grady reached out to grasp the guy, but he got up and raced out the door. Grady jumped up to follow as the gunman ran through the hall. The door began to swing shut right before Grady collided with the solid wood.
He slammed against it, then shoved. The door didn’t move. “Hey!”
The resistance was such that there had to be another person on the other side helping Johnson close it in his face.
“Come on, ge
t it shut,” he heard from the other side, right before it closed. “We have to tell Wilson. Find out what to do!”
The door shut, and the lock clicked. Grady tried the handle from his side. What on earth? He hadn’t even known this door could be locked. How was it these men knew more about the White House than a Secret Service agent?
He tried the handle again but couldn’t open the door. “It’s locked.”
Skylar was at the other door. “This one, too.”
“We’re locked in?”
“Looks like it.” She frowned, the wrinkles in her skin not quite lining up with the frown.
Grady reached for his radio and felt the jagged pieces. Broken? He glanced down. “I guess that’s what broke when I fell.”
“What did he say, right before the door shut? I heard something.”
He hesitated a second, unsure whether to trust information to someone obviously in disguise. Maybe she was part of this, and it was all a ruse—a portion of the exercise where he was rendered trapped and unable to contact Command.
This was an exercise. If she was a hostile, could he trust her?
*
Skylar could see the question on his face. He was wondering if he should share. If he could trust her. She flipped her ponytail forward and shook out the rest of the pins she’d missed. If they were going to be a team, she wanted to be herself. At least as much as she could in this polyester floral dress.
“You know those men were trying to kill me.” She phrased it as a statement, but it was really a question. When he nodded, she said, “I heard them talking about taking something from the library. They didn’t know for sure it was in there but seemed convinced it was possible.”
Skylar thought back over what had happened. “When they realized I’d overheard them, they decided to kill me.” She paused. “They also said someone named Wilson was going to be pleased if they took whatever it was easily.”
Grady nodded. “They mentioned Wilson right before the door shut.”
“Any idea who he is?”
He shook his head. “Do you?”
“I met everyone on the hostile’s team at the briefing, and I don’t remember that name.”
“Those men trying to kill you, were they hostiles in the exercise?”
“Yes.” Skylar paced away, tried the door again—still locked, which wasn’t surprising, but she had to do something—and then turned back. “So, what do we do now?”
“They’re going to come back soon, which means we can ambush them when they do.”
She didn’t have a weapon. If they came in, guns blazing, the vest she wore might not protect her as well a second time.
His eyes narrowed on her. The great Grady Farrow, former Secret Service training record-holder, didn’t like the fact that she was nervous? Skylar didn’t need another man finding her wanting. That definitely wasn’t part of her five-year plan.
It was also why she’d pushed herself so hard in training. She wasn’t about to let them pass on her. Not when she knew what she was capable of.
Skylar wandered around the room, pulled open the couple of drawers in the desk and rummaged. The knife had slid under the hutch, but surely there was a decorative letter opener, or…something she could find to defend herself with.
“Is a theft part of the exercise?”
She looked up. “No. There was nothing about a theft in the plan.”
“So they’re doing this on their own?”
She didn’t answer. Grady turned away and scratched his jaw.
“And my radio is broken.” He tried the handle of the door that had been shut in his face, and then snatched up the phone. He sighed. “No dial tone. We need to get out of here so I can contact Command and let them know the exercise is being used as a cover for a theft.”
Skylar nodded.
The doorknob rattled.
Grady spun around to the exit behind him. Someone knocked. “Farrow, you in there?”
“Stringer.” He strode to the door. “We’re locked in.”
“Let me find a key.” The muffled answer came from behind the door.
The relief on Grady’s face matched her own feelings. They were going to get out of here. “What happens next?”
She didn’t really want to leave, but if those men were still going to try to kill her, then she wasn’t about to hang around.
“I take you to Command. We inform them of what’s happening, and get to the bottom of this.”
“By finding that Wilson guy?”
Maybe they would let her sit in the command post while the agents brought these potential thieves to justice. She’d like to know how it played out. If she could watch the action for herself it would be a great experience. So long as she was safe.
“Okay, I found a key,” Stringer—whoever that was—said from behind the door.
Skylar could hear the key in the lock and a click.
“One second and—” A crash rang through the space beyond the door. Echoed off the high ceilings.
Grady pulled the door open. Skylar moved to the side, out of the line of fire of anyone on the other side ready to shoot at them.
He rushed out to help his friend. She could hear the muffled sounds of fighting. She waited. Would he come back and tell her the coast was clear? The expression sitting duck came to mind. If this hadn’t been a life-in-danger situation, she might have thought it was amusing. Too bad there was nothing funny about this. She could actually use some humor in her life.
Skylar crept to the door, keeping her back against the wall. She peered out. A hall, then another to her left that ran perpendicular to the one outside this door. This place was a maze.
She heard someone grunt, then a whooshing sound like a quick exhale. The sounds of a fight.
She peered around the door. A takedown, two Secret Service agents against one hostile. Johnson was back.
Movement to her left brought her attention around. Two men, one dressed in HVAC-repairman overalls and the other an agent, crossed the end of the hall. Guns bared. She took an involuntary step back. Not anyone she was going to mess with.
But the HVAC guy she recognized from the briefing. What was his name?
Skylar crept past an elevator to the mouth of the hall and peered around. They were walking fast, not wanting to be caught out in the open of the hallway. What were they doing?
“Skylar!” Grady barked her name in a low tone.
She waved once, behind her back, for him to shush. That wasn’t likely to go down well with a man like him—the in-charge type. She tried to hear what the men were saying.
Too far away.
“Skylar.” He tugged on her elbow.
She turned back to him. “I saw—”
“It’s not safe for you to be exposed like that. You need to stay where there’s cover.” His eyes were hard, but she thought she detected concern as well as that do-what-I-say authority. “And don’t walk off so I don’t know where you are.”
Behind him, farther down the hall, Stringer—dressed in a uniform that matched Grady’s—hauled Johnson to his feet. The agent evidently thought that exchange between her and Grady was immensely funny.
She brushed past Grady and strode over to Stringer and Johnson. She faced-off with Johnson and set one hand on her hip. Yes, she looked ridiculous in this half-disguise, but she wanted answers.
“What does Wilson want to steal?”
Johnson’s eyes flashed. “You think I’m just gonna tell you?”
“You tell me…” She waved at the Secret Service agents. “You tell them, and they tell me. What’s the difference? Either way, I find out what’s so important it’s worth you trying to kill me to cover it up.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t eavesdrop on other people’s conversations.” Johnson smirked. “Didn’t your momma teach you that?”
“Actually, no,” Skylar said. “My mom didn’t teach me anything.” She felt Stringer’s and Grady’s attention on her but ignored it. “Now tell me what Wilson wants t
o steal.”
“You think this is legit? Like a real theft?” Johnson’s gaze had an edge to it. “It’s all part of the exercise.”
He was going to stick with that line? If it really was part of the exercise, that didn’t explain why they’d had real weapons. Or why they’d been so determined to kill her.
“You shot me.”
“Accidents happen all the time.” He smirked again. “You should be more careful. You never know when you could get hurt. Even dead.”
THREE
“I’m gonna take this one out to Command.”
Grady nodded to his friend. “We’ll be right behind you.”
Agent Stringer stepped through the usher’s closet to the entrance hall. Skylar glanced at Grady, a question in her eyes.
“You’re with me. We’re going out to Command, but Johnson’s pal is still loose in the White House. Keep your eyes open.”
She nodded. “I wish I knew who that Wilson guy was they were talking about. Or what they were planning on stealing.”
“Johnson will talk.”
“But what if he doesn’t?”
“He will.” Grady wasn’t going to argue it. If a theft was really about to be undertaken in the White House, the Secret Service would find out everything about it. Round up all responsible. That was how their world worked.
He crossed the room and peered out of the far door of the usher’s closet. Only a few steps to the entrance-hall door that led out to the north portico. Stringer had already headed out. Once they were outside, they would be seen by the agents in the command post. They would’ve set up cameras to get as many angles on the hostiles as they could from outside—whether surveillance was down or not.
Most of the hostiles were Secret Service agents from around the country, or they were with other federal agencies. As long as they didn’t personally know those stationed in the White House, they were eligible. And everyone was thoroughly vetted. Occasionally the director threw in a wild card—someone like Skylar who had earned her place on the exercise.
Grady walked out into the entrance hall, Skylar right behind him. Like it had all week, the place almost echoed with a lack of people. It was weird not seeing and hearing that constant bustle of work. Humanity. The lifeblood of the country pumping through the halls.
Defense Breach Page 2