by Jan Coffey
She laughed. This was the second time in an hour that she was being encouraged to hop on the next plane. “No…I can’t. I just got back from Ireland. I have things to do before I go away again.”
“Ireland?” he asked. “The country?”
“You’ve heard of it.”
“Nasty place, by all accounts. How did you find it?”
“I liked the sights.”
“That’s all?” he asked, glaring at her.
“Okay. The men aren’t too bad.”
“I’ll show you ‘aren’t too bad’.” He kissed her greedily right there in public. She gasped in surprise when she felt his hand under her jacket, cupping her breast.
“You can get arrested in this country doing that in public,” she whispered against his lips. He was way too tempting. She looped an arm into his, pulling him toward the door.
“Is the car considered public?” he asked.
“Yes. Now, stop it.” She felt like a teenager when she was with him. Her Secret Service agents were standing by the door. She’d ditched them last night when she walked out of her father’s house and checked into a hotel. But they’d been waiting for her outside this morning.
“We have the car waiting,” one of them told her.
“I’m not going back to the house,” she told him.
“We’ll take you back to the hotel,” the other one told her.
She was going to argue with them, but Mick interfered. “Don’t be so difficult. They’re only doing their job.”
Amber didn’t think this was the right time to tell him she’d had a blowout with her father. He didn’t know anything about her personal life, other than what he’d read in some Irish newspaper or online. She thought it was best to keep it that way, for now.
The black SUV pulled up. They got into the back seat with the two agents sitting up front.
Mick looked around the car. He rapped his knuckles on the smoked glass window. “Is this bulletproof?” he asked one of the agents in front.
The man nodded.
“Good,” he whispered.
Amber smiled at his reaction, and he caught her.
“I might be from Belfast,” he joked. “But I’ve seen movies.”
“I see,” she replied. “Never been to D.C. before?”
“No.” His hand moved to the hem of her skirt and slid up the inside of her thigh. She pushed his hand away and with her look tried to make him understand that the two agents were right there, in the front seat. There were no glass dividers. Nothing.
“Then we’ll have to plan some sightseeing,” she said.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because that’s what tourists do when they come to Washington. They go and see the monuments and—”
“Are you daft? We have monuments in Ireland four thousand years old, and I don’t go to see them. What makes you think I’m going to play the tourist here?”
“Then why are you here?” she asked in a lower voice.
“I’m here to see you, of course…as if you didn’t know it.”
Her heart melted. She didn’t think he knew what he was doing to her. She rubbed her cheek affectionately against his shoulder, holding on to his arm. She couldn’t wait to get to the hotel.
He reached into his pocket and took out his wallet. She saw him reach in and take out some euros. He handed them to her.
“What is this?” she asked.
“I took it when we were in Dundalk.” His blue eyes met hers. “I took it to be sure I see you again—to return it.”
“And you expect me to buy that?”
“And are you buying?”
She didn’t care about the agents in the front seat. She took his face in her hands and kissed him.
CHAPTER 65
The accounts they were tapping into were in Dubai. As expected, ahead of the anticipated blackout, the Dubai bank shut down their banking services worldwide. During the eighty-three second switch-over to the backup system, a local wi-fi network was activated. The long range antennas on Grand Bahama did their job. They got in. That was when the room went crazy.
Alanna was glad that she was only an observer during this part of the operation. Everyone else was involved. David was in charge. Fingers flew over keyboards. The target accounts were emptied, transfers were made. Someone was keeping track of the time. Before the final countdown had started, Alanna had asked whether the Dubai bank could be held responsible for the breach in security. The answer was that there would be no evidence that anyone but the account holders had made the transfers. There would be no trace of a security melt down. Jay had engineered that entirely.
She was amazed that Steven wasn’t here to witness this. The group finished the transfers with two seconds to spare, and as the cheers rang out in the room, the boss finally walked in. Alanna thought he didn’t look like a man who had achieved his goal.
He shook hands with few and congratulated David before joining Alanna.
“Didn’t you get the end result that you expected?” she asked. “You made the reallocation of wealth look pretty easy.”
He didn’t smile.
“Oh, yes. Here…in this place…” He looked around the room. “I did. Everyone did an incredible job.”
Alanna decided to be serious. “This might be a setback, but whoever the contributors were to those accounts, they’ll continue to build them up.”
He nodded. “That’s true. But at least we created an obstacle. We have successfully disrupted the smooth commerce of terror for the moment. Perhaps created questions about credibility. Maybe we’ll have them pointing fingers at one another and venting their bile on each other’s head. Perhaps we will save a few lives.”
“And what happens now with Senator Hersey?” she asked.
“The arrangements pertaining to him were made long in advance of this moment.” He glanced down at his watch. “Over the next hour, a handful of major newspapers and television and radio stations will get an anonymous tip, putting them on the scent of Senator Hersey’s questionable and rather sizable accounts.”
“Once he’s questioned in the public eye, then he’s lost.”
“Confidence lost is rarely regained.”
She saw Galvin look at his watch again. He seemed restless, upset. “Is there something else?”
“I have to get back to my office. I’m waiting for a phone call,” he said vaguely, turning on his heel and walking out.
CHAPTER 66
Washington, D.C.
Paul Hersey showed up at his office an hour earlier than usual. None of his staff was in. That was fine with him. Most of them had burned the candle at both ends yesterday. He hadn’t been able to sleep at all last night. The argument he had with Amber kept playing again and again in his head.
He couldn’t understand how they’d gotten to the point where she’d walked out. There was no reason for her to know, in the first place. It was Matt’s fault for bringing up all the crap. And what was Matt thinking, believing all that bullshit about Steven Galvin going off the deep end and having everyone executed who had anything to do with Nathan’s death?
Matt Lane didn’t know Steven Galvin the way Paul did. Steven was the original gentle soul. The guy who wouldn’t slap at a mosquito even if it was sucking his blood. He was the behind-the-desk geek who’d gotten lucky and made a fortune off the start of Internet. When Paul thought about it, of course, his one regret was that he hadn’t talked Nathan out of joining the CIA. The young man had come to him, consulted with him. The problem was that Nathan was too much like his father. He couldn’t survive in that world of deception and murder.
He somehow had to explain all of this to Amber, and do a better job than he’d done last night. He didn’t want to lose his daughter. Not again. She knew how cutthroat this politics business was. What happened to Nathan wasn’t personal. Someone had to die. They lost agents in the field every year. Unfortunately, Nathan was the prime candidate on that specific date.
When the phone start
ed ringing, he realized he was still standing by his secretary’s desk. There was no one in the office to answer it. He decided to let the message system handle it. He’d barely unbuttoned his coat when his cell phone started ringing. He pulled it out of his breast pocket, just in case it was Amber calling.
It was Matt Lane—absolutely the last person he was in the mood to talk to right now.
“Are you near a TV?” he asked. Matt’s voice sounded borderline crazed.
“I’m at my office.”
“So, turn on the TV,” he said.
His office phone started ringing again.
“What the heck?” he went into his office.
No sooner had the message system picked up one call; the office phone was ringing again. He glanced back at the display on Susan’s desk. Every line was lit up.
He held the cell phone to his ear. “Just tell me what’s going on, Matt,” he said shortly.
“You won’t believe me unless you see it yourself.”
“I don’t have time for this.” Paul turned on the television. “What’s going on? Was the president shot or something?”
He didn’t have to wait for an answer. He saw it. The reporter on CNN had Paul’s picture on the left corner of the screen. A red bar reading Breaking News ran across the bottom of the screen. Paul turned up the volume.
“…from unidentified sources that one of the largest contributors to Senator Paul Hersey’s campaign has been a terrorist group associated with Al…”
“What the hell is this?” Paul snapped. “Is this a joke? Where are they getting crap like this?”
“I warned you, Paul,” Matt said at the other end. “It wasn’t the president who was gunned down. It was you. He got you. The campaign is over.”
CHAPTER 67
Technology had helped make him a fortune. For many in the world, it was the foundation of education, the basis for everyday sustenance. Water, air, food, Internet, cell phones.
At this particular moment, however, Steven Galvin found technology totally useless. Amber wasn’t answering her cell phone. Paul’s housekeeper didn’t know where she was, except that it looked as if she’d left with a suitcase. Galvin called the two airports in the D.C. area, having her paged. There had been lengthy holds, but no answer.
He couldn’t call the police. He couldn’t tell them that a faceless, nameless assassin was about to kill a U.S. senator’s daughter. He couldn’t tell them where or when. And by the way, Steven Galvin was the one who’d paid this assassin to make the hit.
They wouldn’t be able to stop the killer anyway.
In a moment of desperation, Steven had even tried Paul’s number. He didn’t know what he would say to his old friend. Perhaps that he was looking for Amber. Paul’s office phones were busy. Paul’s cell sent his call directly to voice mail. Galvin didn’t bother to leave a message.
There was a knock on his library door. He knew it could be any number of his people. This was the time when he should be with them, celebrating a project perfectly executed. Alanna and David and Jay would leave some time next week. Jay’s and David’s paths would cross with his again. They were both remaining on Steven’s payroll. Alanna’s case, however, was more complicated.
The soft knock came again. He knew who it was before opening the door.
“Can you use some company?” Alanna asked.
He left the door open and walked back across the room. He moved to the wall of windows behind his desk. He looked out at the overcast sky.
“I think you should see this,” she said to his back.
He didn’t have to turn around. He heard her turn on the television and switch to a news channel.
“Senator Paul Hersey…”
She switched the channel again.
“The five-term senator from Pennsylvania…”
She changed the station again.
“We haven’t been able to contact Senator…”
She muted the sound when Steven turned around. “Why aren’t you enjoying this?”
He walked closer to the television and stared at Paul’s picture on the screen. This should have been enough. He should have ended it at this. He didn’t know what madness had made him add Amber’s name to the list of those who must suffer. Of those who must die.
“There’s something else, isn’t there?” she asked softly. “Something else you’re waiting for.”
He sat down on a nearby chair. Kei would have never forgiven him for what he had planned. He picked up the phone and dialed Amber’s number again. As before, it went directly to her cell phone message. This time he decided on leaving a message.
“Please call me, Amber. Please. This is Steven. It’s urgent. Call me.”
She put the remote on the table and sat on the chair next to him.
“Who’s Amber?”
“Paul’s daughter,” he told her.
“Are you worried about how she’d be affected by all this news?”
He buried his face in his hands. He couldn’t admit to the truth. Kei wouldn’t have wanted this. Alanna would never forgive him. He realized the two women’s judgment had somehow gotten woven together into a single conscience. He couldn’t face them.
“Yes…” he lied. “I’m worried about her.”
CHAPTER 68
Washington, D.C.
Amber was starved. She’d had no dinner last night, no breakfast this morning. She knew once they got to the hotel room, they wouldn’t come up for air for hours. Of course, this is what Mick would call a “good problem.”
She asked the agent driving the car to drop them off at a breakfast place a block away from their hotel. She was staying at the Ritz-Carlton in Georgetown. She loved the quaint, historic neighborhoods here…much better than the hectic pace of downtown D.C.
The agents dropped them at the door.
“Sit anywhere you want,” the hostess told them as they walked in.
Amber headed for one of booths by the window. Mick pulled his baseball cap off his head as he grabbed her elbow and directed her to a busy corner near the kitchen door. She let him have his way.
Mick hadn’t mentioned anything about being hungry, but he ordered about three times more food than she did. As a result, she licked her plate clean before he was halfway through his breakfast.
She ordered a cappuccino, keeping him company as he ate.
“You won’t tell me your last name, which is perfectly okay,” she teased him as he poured half a bottle of syrup onto the pancake left on his plate. “At least, tell me how old you are.”
“Nineteen.”
Her jaw almost hit the table. “Oh, my God. I’m robbing a cradle. You’re five years younger than I am. I’m…I’m…Mrs. Robinson.”
“Who’s Mrs. Robinson?”
“Did you see The Graduate?” she asked.
“Is it a movie?” he asked between mouthfuls of food.
“Yes, but never mind. It’s definitely before your time. You probably haven’t seen it. “Mrs. Robinson” was a song, too, by Simon and Garfunkel.”
“I’ve heard of them,” he said.
She was relieved. She still couldn’t believe, though, that she was having an affair with a nineteen-year-old. “Aren’t you too young to be traveling without your parents?” she asked.
“They’re both dead.”
She looked at him, checking to make sure he wasn’t pulling her leg. She couldn’t tell. He hadn’t slowed down. “Are you serious?”
He nodded. “My mother passed away when I was a year old. My father died when I was seven.”
“That’s so sad,” she told him, reaching out and touching his hand. She was the product of a broken family. But despite the problems she’d had over the years with both of her parents, they were still part of her life. “Who raised you then?”
“An uncle and his wife.”
“They must be very special people,” she said.
“She’s great; he’s okay.”
Amber took another sip of her coffee,
watching him. He was almost done with the food. “So were you telling the truth when you said you were a college student?”
“Yes…unfortunately.”
“Why unfortunately?” she asked.
“Because I don’t belong there.”
She watched him stab at the last bite of food with his fork but then drop it back on the plate.
“Why do you say that?” she asked gently.
“No one in my family ever went to the university.”
“That shouldn’t matter, should it?” she asked. “We don’t have to follow in our parents’ footsteps.”
“You are.”
Amber felt annoyed by that comment. “You don’t know my parents. Why do you say that?”
He shrugged. “Your father is a senator. He’s handsome, talks well with the reporters. He looks good in front of people. You have the same qualities. Someday, you could be a senator if you wanted, I’m thinking.”
She thought about the argument she’d had with her father. She would never make the choices that he had made.
“I think I’ll pass,” she told him. “So, do you want to order another course, or are you ready?”
“Depends on where we’re going from here,” he asked, his gaze moving down the front of her sweater.
Amber told herself she didn’t care if he was nineteen. “How does my hotel sound?”
“Fine with me.”
She tried to pay for their breakfast, but he wouldn’t listen to her and paid instead.
At the door he paused, pulling his baseball hat on. “So, are the fellows going to pick us up here?”
“No. I told them we’d be fine. We’re practically across the street from the hotel.”
“Let’s take a cab.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She slipped her arm into his. “Come on. We can walk.”
“No, I’m dog-tired, lass.”
His reluctance made her more determined. They stepped out on the street.
“And I don’t care what you said about not wanting to do any sightseeing,” she told him. “You and I are going to fit in a couple of places tomorrow…at least the Smithsonian Aerospace Museum. It’s awesome.”