by Sandra Brown
“Come on,” was all he said. She followed his lead through the door to the third floor.
Because of the commotion in the south wing, nobody noticed them as they headed for the north wing. But when they rounded a corner, they saw two Secret Service agents standing guard outside room 300.
This is when we get shot, Barrie thought.
But Gray was cool. “Evening, gentlemen,” he said crisply, walking right up to them.
They recognized him immediately. “Mr. Bondurant?” one said.
“How are you?” Gray flashed his grim smile.
“I thought you had retired. When did you—”
“I’ll be glad to tell you all about it later. But we’ve got to move Mrs. Merritt immediately. There’s been a small accident in the other wing. I don’t think it’s serious. This is strictly a precautionary measure. The President doesn’t want to take any chances.”
He held up his hand as though for silence, and pressed his fingers against the portable earpiece he was wearing. “They’re ready downstairs,” he said. “Nurse?” He nodded Barrie toward the door of the room.
“Yes, sir.” She slipped past the two agents.
“Excuse me, sir, but nobody except Dr. Allan—”
The edge of Gray’s hand connected solidly with the guy’s larynx. Another swift blow, and he was down. The other had turned to detain Barrie. Gray gave him a karate chop on the back of the neck. He went down. Barrie held the door open while Gray dragged them inside.
It had taken no more than a few seconds. Gray hastily switched his phony earpiece for the Secret Service agent’s.
He listened for a moment, then bent down and spoke into the tiny microphone the unconscious agent was wearing under his lapel. “Some excitement in the other wing, that’s all.” He paused to cough and clear his throat. “Leaking water pipe.”
He listened again.
“No, we’re under control.”
He clicked off the transmitter. To Barrie he said, “There’s another agent on the roof.”
“Won’t he notice the voice change?”
“I hope not.”
Working quickly, Gray divested one of the agents of his two-way radio kit, so that he would be clued to the actions of the agent on the roof, and any others who might be in the area. Then he taped shut the agents’ mouths and trussed them like turkeys, binding their hands and feet behind their backs with duct tape. For the time being, they were out of commission. But how long would it be before someone noticed they weren’t at their post and came to check?
Barrie had no time to entertain that concern. Gray had already moved across the dim room where Vanessa lay motionless on a hospital bed. Her slight form created barely any valleys and hills beneath the covers.
Barrie moved to the opposite side of the bed. “Mrs. Merritt?”
“Vanessa? Can you hear us?” Gray said with more force, shaking her shoulder. “Vanessa?”
Her eyes fluttered open. When she saw Gray, there was a catch in her thready breath. “You’ve come?”
“I’m going to get you out of here.”
“Gray.” When her eyes drifted closed again, she was smiling faintly, assured that now she was safe. She was so sedated that she didn’t even flinch when he ripped the tape off her arm and slipped the IV catheter from her vein.
Barrie didn’t have to look very closely to see that Vanessa was seriously ill. Her eye sockets looked like dark craters in her skull. Her lips were colorless. Gray slid his arms beneath her, catching her behind her knees and shoulders, and lifted her from the bed. She looked like a child in his arms.
“Barrie,” he ordered, “take the pistol.”
He’d laid it on the bed when he picked up Vanessa. Barrie stared at the weapon, loath to touch it. The long silencer attached to the barrel made it look even more menacing. But Gray’s expression looked more dangerous and deadly than the gun, so she did as he’d instructed. The weapon felt heavy and awkward in her hand.
“Careful with it,” he said. “It’s ready to fire. The service elevator is at the end of the hall. We’ll use that to get to the ground floor.” He glanced toward the two unconscious agents. “If you’re legit, I’m sorry,” he muttered. “If you’re Spence’s men, fuck you.”
As they moved toward the door, Barrie asked, “What about security cameras?”
“I haven’t seen any, have you?”
She shook her head. “What if somebody tries to stop us?”
“Shoot them,” he said matter-of-factly. He motioned her with his head. “Check the hall.”
She opened the door and looked around. The corridor was empty, although from around the corner she heard laughing and chatter about the flooded storage room. Apparently the absence of the Secret Service agents had not yet been noticed.
“Clear,” she told Gray.
“Get the elevator.”
She stepped out into the hallway and punched the button on the wall. Lighted numbers on the panel indicated that it was on the first floor. Barrie was sure it had never taken it longer to rise those two floors. She kept her eye on the corner, but no one appeared.
At last the elevator arrived, and it was empty. She stepped into it and pushed the Open Door button. Gray carried Vanessa across the hall in two long strides. Barrie pushed the Close Door button.
Nothing happened.
Not for several interminable moments.
Finally the door slid closed and they began their descent.
Barrie stared at the crack where the two doors met. When they reached the first floor and those doors opened, and someone was standing there demanding to know just what the hell they thought they were doing, could she shoot that person?
She was thankful that her mettle wasn’t tested. There was no one waiting for the elevator when it reached the ground floor. She stepped out and checked the corridor. “A lot of people are in the commissary,” she told Gray. There were sounds of conversation coming from that area. “It must be break time.”
“Go the other way,” he said. “That can’t be the only exit. We’ll go out through another door and circle around.”
“I noticed French doors in the solarium.”
They threaded their way back through the first-floor corridors. The French doors in the solarium were locked, but the latch was on the inside. She hesitated. “It could be wired to a security system.”
“We’ll take our chances.”
She undid the latch and pushed open the door. The ensuing screech was earsplitting. Barrie turned in the direction from which it came and reflexively fired the pistol.
A tropical bird in a tall white cage sent up a terrible racket, although her shot had wounded only a Boston fern. The bird’s ruff was standing on end, his multicolored wings were extended and flapping, and he was still screeching. “Shit!” she said.
They left the building at a dead run, although hospital personnel were obviously accustomed to the bird’s temper tantrums because no one was pursuing them. Keeping to the shadowed perimeter, they skirted the well-tended yard until they reached the parking area.
“Hold it,” Gray said.
She stopped, turned. She was breathing heavily. He seemed barely winded as he listened to the voice in his earpiece. He clicked on his transmitter. “Something in the employee parking lot?” he said into the microphone.
The other Secret Service agent! Barrie had almost forgotten him.
Her eyes automatically swung up to the roof, but she couldn’t see him. Gray motioned her forward with his chin. She turned and began running again. Gray was right behind her, but she heard him say with feigned puzzlement, “No, she hasn’t been disturbed.” Then he shouted, “Damn! He’s on to us, Barrie.”
She ran full out the rest of the way to the pickup. When they reached it, she opened the rear door of the camper and clambered inside, then assisted Gray as he stepped in and laid Vanessa on the bench along the wall.
“Hold on!” he said as he leaped out the door and slammed it behind him. Mome
nts later, the pickup was gunned to life and they began to move. Seconds after that, a shrill alarm pierced the peaceful countryside surrounding Tabor House.
* * *
“Delicious pie, Amanda. Thank you.”
David smiled up at her as she picked up his empty dessert plate and placed it on a serving tray. “Thank you, David. I’m glad you enjoyed it. Would you care for more?”
“No, thanks.” He patted his belt. “Every calorie counts.”
Unsmiling, she asked if he would like more coffee. He accepted, watching her closely as she refilled his cup. Then she excused herself, taking the serving tray with her and leaving him and George alone in the Allans’ comfortable living room.
“Amanda never has warmed to me, has she?” David said.
“Want something in that?” George was at the liquor cabinet, adding a liberal amount of B&B to his coffee.
“No, thanks.”
The President had invited himself over for the evening. George’s two sons had reacted with predictable excitement. President Merritt had asked to see their homework and had written each a note to take to school the next day to share with their classmates.
After taking them away to bed, Amanda had offered to serve him and George pie and coffee in the living room. Her manner bordered on hostility, but David was used to her cold shoulder and, as he had for years, ignored it and pitied poor George for being married to such an icicle.
George returned to the sofa with his spiked coffee. David noticed that the doctor’s hands were shaking enough to rattle the delicate china. “Why so nervous, George? If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had a guilty conscience.”
In a desperate undertone, George asked, “Why’d you come here tonight?”
“Aren’t I welcome in the home of one of my closest and dearest friends?”
“I didn’t mean to imply that.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear it.” David gave his fresh coffee a languid stir. “Now that we’re alone, I’ll get down to business.”
“Which is…?”
“I’d like your opinion of the health care bill Congress has submitted. I value your viewpoint as a physician.”
Taken completely off guard, George stammered, “I… I’m only familiar with the major points.”
“Which should give you a basis for an opinion. What do you think of it?”
When the telephone rang, George practically leaped from the sofa to answer it. “Hello. Dr. Allan speaking.” He listened. “Yes, he’s here.”
He turned and extended the telephone to David. “It’s urgent,” he whispered.
“Put it on speakerphone.”
George gave him a puzzled look, but did as requested. “This is the President,” David said.
He listened as the caller informed him that the First Lady had been taken from Tabor House.
“What do you mean, taken?”
“Abducted, Mr. President. Kidnapped.”
David came slowly to his feet. “What?” he said tightly.
The hapless messenger repeated the message.
“Where was the goddamn Secret Service?” he barked.
“The agents were overpowered, Mr. President. Mrs. Merritt was carried from her room, placed in a vehicle, and driven away. The operation was well rehearsed and executed, sir. The hospital security force and Secret Service agents did their best to stop the abductors at the gate. However, they couldn’t risk shooting at the vehicle and wounding the First Lady. The pickup truck failed to stop despite the warning shots fired. It crashed through the barrier and, unfortunately, escaped.”
The loud conversation had drawn Amanda from another part of the house. David noticed that she didn’t appear unduly surprised by the news.
“Has anyone claimed responsibility? A terrorist group?”
“Gray Bondurant and Barrie Travis have been identified as the suspects, Mr. President.”
Upon hearing that, David’s breath left his body in a rush. “Christ Almighty!” He plowed his fingers through his hair. “Has Bondurant gone completely around the bend?”
“He boldly approached the Secret Service agents guarding Mrs. Merritt’s room, sir, and pretended to be acting on your behalf.”
“Well, he wasn’t!” David shouted, outraged by the suggestion. “He’s to be treated like any other criminal. Is that understood?”
“Absolutely, Mr. President. The FBI’s been notified. Local law enforcement has already located the vehicle. It was left parked at a truck stop several miles from the hospital. There was no sign of the First Lady or her kidnappers. Apparently they switched vehicles, sir.”
More collected now, David said, “I’m returning to the White House immediately. I can be reached in the car.”
“Certainly, Mr. President.”
When the call was disconnected, David rounded on George. “How could you let this happen?”
“It wasn’t my fault!” the doctor cried. “I wasn’t even there. There must have been a breach in security.”
“To say the very least,” David shouted. “It seems that every time I place Vanessa under your care, something dreadful happens.”
From the doorway, Amanda said, “If anyone is to blame for this, it’s you, David.”
“Amanda!” George exclaimed.
David wanted to strangle the snooty bitch for speaking to him like that, but he had to admire the guts it took. “Forget it, George,” he said brusquely. “I’ve got to get back to the White House immediately. Are you coming with me?”
“Certainly.”
They went down the front walkway, flanked by Secret Service agents who obviously had been alerted to the latest emergency. The limo awaited at the curb, one car behind it, one in front, four motorcycle policemen leading the motorcade.
Speeding through the streets toward Pennsylvania Avenue, David checked to see that the tinted glass behind the driver was raised, then turned to George and began laughing.
“I told you he would do it. Didn’t I tell you that Gray was noble enough, crazy enough, to stage a dramatic rescue?”
George Allan stared into space. “Yes, David. That’s what you told me.”
“I knew he’d try to get her out of there. And when Spence’s men reported that the old man, Welsh, was being used as a decoy tonight, I figured the escape was on.”
“It seems you were correct on all counts.”
“Did you do your part, George?”
“Yes. Just before I left her tonight.”
“And it’ll work?”
“It’ll work. She’ll die from a toxic level of lithium.”
This would, of course, be determined in the postmortem, but neither the doctor nor the president would ever be suspected because they were having pie and coffee together when Vanessa fell into the hands of Gray Bondurant and his accomplice, Barrie Travis. They would be charged with kidnapping and murder.
As an intimate friend, Gray would know that Vanessa’s medication had to be carefully monitored and administered. Too small a dosage of lithium and her mood disorder couldn’t be controlled. Too much could cause seizures, coma, or death, especially when combined with the sedatives she was being given at the hospital to ensure the rest that she needed.
“They’ll want to know where Gray obtained the drug,” George observed.
“A man of his resourcefulness?” David said, dismissing that as a problem. “A good prosecutor will have no trouble convincing a jury that he’s clever enough to have obtained and destroyed all evidence of it.”
“I’m unclear on their motive,” George said. “If they went to all that trouble to rescue Vanessa, why would they kill her?”
George was so dense, sometimes David wondered how he’d ever earned a medical degree. He also had an irritating tendency to make simple things difficult.
“Gray was Vanessa’s spurned lover. He wore his heart on his sleeve for the whole damn country to see. At first he was content to leave Washington and nurse his wounded pride in seclusion. But his antagon
ism festered. Finally, his ego couldn’t be assuaged until Vanessa was dead.”
“And Barrie Travis?”
“Is in love with Gray. She was happy to eliminate her competition. After the Shinlin incident, they’re public enemy number one and number two. People will be ready to believe them capable of this heinous crime.”
The President leaned his head back and smiled. “It’s such a brilliant plan, George. So damn perfect. Spence always said it’s better not to destroy your enemies but to let them destroy themselves. Too bad he isn’t here to see this. He would have loved it.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Senator Armbruster was waiting for Barrie and Gray at the prearranged spot. The rotors on the helicopter were already whirling.
“Thank God you made it,” he said as Gray bounded out of the car. “How is she?”
“Alive.”
The senator had handpicked a team of medical personnel, ready to administer whatever emergency treatment Vanessa might require on the flight back to Washington. As she was lifted from the car and laid on a gurney, the doctor in charge began issuing orders to those assisting him.
“Sweetheart, what have they done to you?” Armbruster clasped his daughter’s cold hand as he ran alongside the gurney toward the helicopter.
Gray detained the doctor long enough to shout, “It was awfully easy to get her out of there. Too easy. The damage might already be done.”
Nodding that he understood, the doctor didn’t wait to hear more. He jumped into the chopper, and within seconds it was airborne, leaving Barrie and Gray in the windy crosscurrents on the empty shopping mall parking lot.
Barrie had recorded the transfer on video. Although the quality wouldn’t be up to normal broadcast standards, it would be invaluable. They watched as the helicopter banked and headed back toward D.C.
“What’d you mean by that?” she asked Gray as she replaced the camera in her satchel. “What you said to the doctor.”
“I’ve got a feeling that the folks at Tabor House knew we were coming.”
She looked at him sharply.
“Think about it,” he said. “Except for a token show of force there at the end, we essentially walked in and walked out with the First Lady of the United States.” His face set and tense, he stared after the chopper. “We might have been too late to save her life.”