by Sandra Brown
“We were flown in by helicopter from a carrier in the Persian Gulf. A squadron of F-16s created a diversion and took heat so we could be dropped in. We walked three miles into the city. I can’t describe the stench. There was raw sewage and rot everywhere. The country’s entire national budget was appropriated for war; none to sanitation and quality of life.
“The place was a warren of ancient buildings and dead-end streets, but Intelligence had given us the prison’s exact location, and we knew how we were going to penetrate it. We had a blueprint of the building and a detailed description of its security from a former prisoner. The security wasn’t sophisticated or well organized, but the guards were part of the military and were heavily armed. We also knew the location of the cells where the hostages were being held. Needless to say, we had rehearsed and timed our every move.
“It went like clockwork. We took out the guards without them ever knowing what hit them. Once we reached the hostages, I was worried that they’d blow it, but they were quiet and obeyed our hand signals without question. A couple of them had injuries that had gone untreated. All of them were weak from malnutrition and sickness, but they could walk. We were halfway home.
“It was when we were on our way out that everything began to unravel. Several of the guards had dragged a young boy prisoner into a vacant cell and were taking turns with him. Since they weren’t supposed to be there, and that part of the prison was supposed to be closed off, we walked right into the middle of it. All hell broke loose. Gunfire erupted from both sides. The first one I took out was the boy.”
He fell silent. Neither Barrie nor Daily so much as blinked.
“He, uh… he couldn’t have been more than nine or ten years old.” He closed his eyes and massaged his eye sockets with his thumb and middle finger. “The backs of his legs were running red with blood. The floor was slick with it. I’m sure his bowel had ruptured. Those bastards had… Well, he was screaming. With that much blood loss, he wouldn’t have made it. He was in agony. So I shot him.”
Through the tears standing in her eyes, Barrie watched him reach for his coffee cup, but he didn’t drink from it. He folded his strong hands around it and held on.
“We rained hell down on those goddamn perverts, but of course we were blown. We had—God, I don’t know how many corridors still to get through. The hostages had lost their cool and were terrified.
“But we were determined not to die in that shit hole. Miraculously, we made it out of the prison, but by then the army had been alerted. We were surrounded by American-hating, gun-happy troops. Those crazy sons of bitches were shooting anything that moved—even their own men—in their bloodlust to kill us.
“We found some temporary cover. I radioed our air support to see if they could help us out. They did their part, but the choppers couldn’t get in any closer than the designated place. If they got shot down, we’d all die.
“One of my men reconnoitered and found an alley that looked clear. We ran to it, although we had no idea where it would lead. Right then, getting away from the prison was all we cared about.
“But as soon as we entered the alley we started taking sniper fire from the rooftops. My guys took out the shooters one by one, but for five minutes or so we were pinned down with very little cover. That’s when it happened.”
He raised his head and made eye contact with both Barrie and Daily before continuing.
“We’d spotted sniper fire coming from the open window of what looked like an apartment building. Someone suggested firing a missile into it, but David had urged me to prevent civilian casualties if at all possible. He wanted this to be a rescue mission, not an aggressive action that would create ill will in the world community.
“Pinned down as we were, our only choice was to draw the sniper’s fire and let one of our sharpshooters pop him. I volunteered to be the decoy. I made myself an open target. My guys blasted him. But during the exchange, one of my men turned his assault rifle on me.
“His name was Ray Garrett. He was a big, rawboned boy from Alabama. I grew up in Louisiana, so we had joked about being from the South. I had selected him, worked out strategies with him, ran the drills with him. But he was going to kill me. And would have, except that we made eye contact.
“He must have entertained an instant of doubt, and that saved my life. He hesitated a second too long to fire. That’s all it took for an enemy shooter to pick him off.”
Gray stared into space for a moment, then took a deep breath. “You know the rest, more or less. After six harrowing hours, we made it to the choppers. We even brought Garrett’s body out with us, and he was given a hero’s burial.”
“Maybe you were wrong,” Barrie ventured in a soft voice. “In the confusion—”
“There was no mistaking his intent. He was only ten feet away from me. No one else saw it, but I did.”
“Remember the President’s blunder?” Daily said. “When it was announced that the mission had cost one American life, Merritt eulogized you.”
“I’d forgotten that,” Barrie cut in. “The faux pas was forgotten during all the excitement of your victorious return, but I remember what an embarrassment it was for Dalton Neely. He’d called a press conference to announce the success of the mission and the safe return of the hostages. Then he read a brief statement from the President that commended you for making the ultimate sacrifice for your countrymen. He said there was never a better soldier and patriot than Gray Bondurant, never a better friend. There wasn’t a dry eye in the crowd.”
“When David heard there’d been a casualty, he assumed his assassin had succeeded in killing me. He made the statement before checking out the facts.”
“How’d they know that young man was corruptible?” Daily asked.
“I don’t believe he was,” Gray said, surprising them both. “Garrett couldn’t have been bribed with material gain. I’m sure that Spence, acting as the President’s mouthpiece, approached him and made me out to be a traitor, a spy, a threat to democracy, something like that.
“Garrett was an excellent Marine, but he wasn’t a whiz kid. When he aimed that rifle at me, he was carrying out a direct order from the Commander in Chief. Nothing less than that could have compelled him to betray me, not even the threat of death. I didn’t blame him. He was a pawn for David and Spence. They killed him as surely as that enemy sniper.”
“Did you confront Merritt about this?” Barrie asked.
“God knows I wanted to, but I couldn’t without revealing my hand and leaving myself more vulnerable.”
“But you got the hell out of Dodge.”
“I didn’t resign out of cowardice,” he replied testily.
Daily, who’d made the remark, raised both hands in surrender. “Don’t take offense. None was intended.”
“I resigned my job at the White House because I didn’t want to be in the service of David Merritt.”
“But you’re still an irritant to him. Suddenly Wyoming isn’t far enough removed from the White House.”
Gray nodded. “David knows I’m on to him. First about Garrett, now about Vanessa’s baby. I’m a problem that never quite got resolved, so he sent Spence to resolve it once and for all.”
“Because of me,” Barrie said forlornly.
“It would have happened sooner or later. I’d been waiting for it for a long time. David couldn’t very well eliminate me while I was in the limelight, being touted as a national hero. So he pretended to enjoy and share the accolades I received.
“Once public awareness had waned, he figured he could more easily dispose of me without drawing attention to it. With or without you, Barrie, it was only a matter of time.”
“Now that we know the problem, how’re we gonna solve it?” Daily asked. “I don’t have long to live, but I’d rather not finish out my days in federal prison for threatening to destroy the President.”
“Once the truth about the baby’s death gets out, this administration will die a natural death,” Gray assured him.
“I agree,” Barrie said. “That will take care of itself. My primary concern is for Vanessa. Right now, she’s the biggest threat to Merritt.”
“I don’t buy this ‘seclusion’ nonsense for a second. David’s got her sequestered somewhere.”
“For what purpose, Gray?” Daily asked.
“To intimidate her into keeping her mouth shut about how the baby died. I know how he thinks. To him, Vanessa got no worse than she deserved. He’ll try and convince her that she brought this on herself by cheating on him. Depending on what method of persuasion he’s using, she may or may not survive it.”
“ ‘Method of persuasion’?”
“I can’t bring myself even to think about it.”
“What’s with Armbruster? Has he rolled over and played dead?”
“I’d like to know that myself, Daily. But until I know more, I’d rather leave him out of it and work independently.”
“What are you going to do?” Barrie asked.
“I’ve got some ideas.”
Evidently he wasn’t going to reveal those ideas.
Daily said, “You’re welcome to make this house your base of operation.”
“Thanks, but I don’t want to put you in danger, too.”
Daily laughed. “What’ve I got to lose? Besides, this is a safe place. Nobody will be looking for you here.”
“So she said last night,” Gray said, nodding toward Barrie.
“She doesn’t let on that we’re friends,” Daily explained.
“Why?”
“That’s a private matter between Daily and me,” Barrie snapped.
Daily said, “But you can take my word for it, Gray. This is the safest place for you.”
“What about your job?” Gray asked Barrie.
“She was already in trouble at work,” Daily answered for her. “Feds went there asking questions about her.”
Gray frowned. “Not regular feds—Spence’s men, I’d bet. He would have covered all his bases. Barrie, how many people at the TV station know about the story?”
“I didn’t discuss it with anybody.”
“Friends?”
“No one except Daily.”
“Lovers?”
Detecting the mockery behind his question, she gave him a terse no.
“Good,” Gray said. “The fewer people who know about this, the better.”
Daily said, “After last night, I think she should lay low, at least until we know what’s going on with Mrs. Merritt.”
“Absolutely.” Gray turned to her. “Stay here with Daily and keep out of sight. Let me handle this. I promise, though, you’ll get first crack at the story.”
“You do? Why, thank you ever so much.” She shot each of them a withering look. “You two have been talking about me as though I’m not here. You even went so far as to make my plans for me. Well, thanks, but no thanks. Here’s how it’s going to be.”
* * *
“Sorry, miss, this area is off limits.”
“That was my house. I lived here. I’m Barrie Travis.”
As she’d known they would, the words worked like a magic wand. Within seconds, she was surrounded by reporters who’d been loitering about with their cameramen, waiting to get a statement from someone, anyone, official.
Interviews with neighbors and eyewitnesses had been exhaustive, but all had similar stories to tell. Every possible angle had been covered. There was nothing new to report. At this point, the authorities were reluctant to speculate on what had caused the explosion. The investigating ATF agents were particularly reticent. Nobody was talking.
Now, suddenly, the elusive Barrie Travis was. Microphones and video cameras were aimed at her. “As you can see, my home was totally destroyed. I was left with only this,” she said, spreading her arms. “But the greatest loss to me was my dog, Cronkite, who died in the blast.”
“Where have you been since the explosion?”
“Why haven’t you come forward before now?”
“Do you know what caused it?”
She held up her hand to stop the barrage. “As to the cause, I’ll leave those answers to the authorities.”
“Do you think it was an accident?”
She looked quizzically at the reporter, as if his question were absurd. “Of course it was an accident. What else could it be? When the investigation is complete, I’m sure there’ll be a logical explanation.”
Gray had said that Spencer Martin would have made certain of that.
“Now, please, if you’ll excuse me…”
They trailed her to her car, which was still parked where it had been when the explosion occurred. A few diehards even followed her to WVUE, but she dodged them in the parking lot, refusing any further comments. The rent-a-cop at the door barred them from following her inside.
An hour earlier, she had rejected Gray’s and Daily’s advice to keep out of sight. “I’m not about to go underground,” she told them heatedly. “First of all because I don’t think it would do any good. If Spencer Martin’s intelligence system is as pervasive as you say, I’d be found anyway.
“Second, my job is reporting news. Ironically, I’ve made news. I’d be crazy not to make the most of my present notoriety.
“Third, the more visible I am, the less likely it is that another fatal ‘accident’ will happen to me. Just as you said about yourself earlier, Gray, Merritt won’t make a move as long as I’m in the limelight.”
“Way to go, Bondurant,” Daily had said sourly.
“Whatever else he is, Merritt is no fool,” Barrie had continued. “He can’t make a second attempt on my life without it looking awfully fishy to even the most naive mind. No, gentlemen,” she’d declared, “as long as I’m seen, I’m safe.”
Now word spread like wildfire that she was in the building. Howie made it to her cubicle faster than usual and shooed everybody else away. His opening line was, “Jesus, Barrie, we thought you might be charcoal.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
“I’m trying to be nice.”
Maybe he was, because he looked truly crestfallen over her remark. “How would you like an exclusive for the evening news tonight?” she asked. “An interview with me, just as I am.” She’d had to dress in the same clothes she’d worn the night before. “Looking pitiful and pathetic. I might even be able to eke out a tear or two for a close-up.”
His little eyes lit up. “That’d be great!”
“Tomorrow, I’ll do a follow-up story, something to do with near brushes with death, confronting one’s mortality—something along those lines. I’ll try and get sound bites from clerics and psychologists who deal with trauma victims. Maybe by the end of the week, the investigators will have determined the cause of the explosion.”
“That soon?”
“I doubt it’ll be a lengthy investigation,” she said with a wryness that escaped him. “Anyway, once I get their ruling, I’ll do a story on how they piece together the evidence to re-create the scene and find the cause.”
“Jeez, you’re hot. No pun intended.” Taking a precautionary look over his shoulder, he whispered, “Any chance that it was intentional? Did somebody get wind of the exclusive you’re working on? Could your story and the explosion be connected?”
“You’ve seen too many Sylvester Stallone movies, Howie. There couldn’t possibly be a connection. That big story of mine?” she said with a deprecating laugh. “It was nothing compared to having my house explode in front of my eyes. So you and Jenkins can relax. I’ve looked death in the face. Believe me, that changes your perspective like that!” She snapped her fingers. “From now on, you’ll see a very different Barrie Travis around here.”
Gray had said she made a poor liar. She hoped he was wrong.
“Well, I’m mighty glad to hear that,” Howie said, expanding his chest. “I knew if I stayed after you long enough, I’d whip your cute little butt into shape.”
Behind her ingratiating smile, Barrie was grinding her teeth.<
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Chapter Eighteen
The President was working out his frustration in his private gym inside the White House. He viewed the Stairmaster and other equipment as enemies that must be conquered. Sweat dripped from his nose, earlobes, chin, and fingertips. Well-toned muscles bulged as he pushed them to their limit.
The errand boy he’d dispatched to check out the situation in Wyoming had contacted him earlier that morning via computer. His report wasn’t what Merritt wanted to hear. It appeared that Spence had never been to Gray Bondurant’s place. When asked what Bondurant had to say about it, the gofer had dropped the second bomb—there had been no trace of Bondurant either.
Despite the report, Merritt was certain that Spence had been there. He’d just been careful to cover his tracks. He was also certain that Gray wouldn’t have vanished without a compelling reason. From that, he deduced that Gray had snuffed Spence before Spence had a chance to snuff him.
If that deduction was correct, Gray was wise to them. The ramifications of that were so vast, so dismal, that Merritt had sought the seclusion of the gym. He needed time alone to think, to plot.
Gray wouldn’t be afraid to joust with the presidency. Deterrents that would cause fear and trembling in anyone else who challenged the White House wouldn’t faze him. Nor would he eventually give up and go away. When Gray thought he was right, he would stop at nothing to defend his point. His convictions were as solid as Gibraltar. That inflexibility was one reason why Merritt hated him.
When he took the oath of office, he had great plans for the three of them. He himself was gifted with enough charisma and political savvy to convince Congress and the nation of anything. Spence was the ruthless strong-arm of the trio. He didn’t require justification, he merely performed, efficiently and expediently. Gray was an expert strategist. He viewed each situation from every possible angle and always chose the best approach to take. Together, they could have been the most powerful three men in the world.
If only Gray hadn’t had a lech for Vanessa and developed a conscience.