by L. T. Ryan
“What is it?” she asked.
“It’s a note from Polanski that says Banner is as good as dead.”
“What?”
“Laptop.”
Clarissa and Beck huddled together. He inserted the USB drive. She had expected some sort of security they’d have to bypass. But there wasn’t any. The drive contained a single folder. Inside the folder were several scanned documents saved as images. Beck opened the first.
The document showed proof that Banner had signed off on McCormick’s plan.
Clarissa glanced over at Beck. He continued to stare at the image on the screen.
“Let’s see the next,” she said.
“What is it?” Banner said.
They ignored him while Beck pulled up the next photo. It contained a scribbled note, hard to decipher. Beck looked up and pointed at Audrey.
“Come here.”
The woman clung to her husband. Banner urged her to step forward. As she did, Beck took the laptop and spun it around.
“Is this your husband’s handwriting?”
Tears ran down Audrey’s cheek. She couldn’t deny it now. “Yes, but it looks, I don’t know, stressed.”
“What do you mean?”
“Hurried.”
“Like something done in a meeting that should have never taken place?” Beck stared past Audrey at Banner.
The man shook his head. “I don’t know what that paper says, because I didn’t write it.”
Audrey read the parts of the note she could make out. It wasn’t much, but the words “McCormick” and “terminate” were enough to indict Banner. Somehow he was involved.
Beck sent Audrey back to her husband and had Clarissa cover them while he continued looking through the documents.
“Some of these are old, and unrelated, but I know they’re true. She’s got you on more than this, Banner.”
“Think about this, Beck,” Banner said. “If what you’re holding was true, why would she send it to me? Wouldn’t she use it to fry me?”
“I suppose she would. Unless you had something on her, too. Nothing says you aren’t both involved in this.” Beck set the laptop down and retrieved Jordan’s SIG. “One of you knew Jordan’s plan and told the other. Both of you had something to gain, whatever it might be, so you formulated your own plan to kill McCormick. But you had to bring someone in to carry out the act. But that person had to have something involved as well, so you used one of his best assets.”
Clarissa said, “And who better than Sinclair? The guy’s been operating outside the law for so long he doesn’t know what’s legal anymore. And he’s got people in place everywhere. Including the House Office Buildings.” She didn’t know for sure, but wanted to see Banner’s reaction. He gave her nothing, though. “And with me there, the only outsider aware of McCormick’s plans, you had the perfect scapegoat.”
“You two are sick in the head. You know that?” Banner stepped forward.
Beck raised his pistol. “That’s far enough.”
“Despite those doctored papers, you’ve got no motive for me to do this. I can retire at any time. I’m not going to advance any further. No other agency would want me, and I don’t want them. I could care less if McCormick becomes president. No one’s gonna unscrew this country as far as I’m concerned, so let him have at it. Once I retire, we’re taking off for the islands anyway.” Banner squeezed his palms against the sides of his head. “Just tell me why I’d do this, Beck?”
“No, you tell me.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Tell me why you did it.”
“I didn’t.”
“Tell me why, Banner. Tell me or so help me, I’ll kill Audrey.”
“We’re back to this?”
Beck said nothing. His tension visibly eased over the next few seconds. Had the conviction behind Banner’s words won out? Or did the information contained on the thumb drive prove him to be guilty?
Two cell phones chirped. Beck reached his free hand into his pocket.
“That’s mine,” Banner said. “I should get it considering everything that’s gone on the past two days.”
Beck nodded. “Clarissa, keep your gun on Audrey. If he says anything out of line, shoot her.”
Though she had no intention of shooting the woman, she aimed her pistol in Audrey’s direction.
Both men answered the phones. Clarissa tried to keep up with each side conversation.
Banner’s conversation was simple and to the point. He said, “Oh, Jesus, you’re kidding me.” After a short pause, he added, “Let me know the details when you have them. We need to know who did it.” He bowed his head and let his arm fall.
“Hang it up,” Clarissa said.
Banner lifted his head far enough to make eye contact with her. He turned the phone toward her and used his free hand to end the call.
“Now drop it and kick it over here,” she said.
He followed her instructions. She stopped the phone with her foot, then lifted her leg and drove her shoe down onto the phone three times.
Banner’s face turned red, but he remained silent.
During this time, Clarissa missed most of Beck’s call. The look on his face revealed he had learned something new. Perhaps something damning to the man across the room. Beck hung up and slipped the phone back in his pocket.
“What’d you find out?” Beck said.
Banner’s lips and face were tight. He struggled to breathe. His ragged breaths pushed through flared nostrils in spurts. “Give me a minute.”
Beck looked at Clarissa. “My guy’s been working on Jordan since we left. He got some information out of him.”
“What?” she said.
“Jordan told Polanski about McCormick’s plan.”
“Why?”
“He was sleeping with her.”
“What? Why?”
“He’d heard there would be an opening soon. A position he could move into.” Beck paused and shifted his gaze to Banner. “My position.”
Banner looked away.
“We’ll get back to that.” He turned toward Clarissa. “So, he thought he could score a few more points with her by telling her about the plan. He thought, with the way this was going down, he would save McCormick and they’d pin the shooter. The reason he was so unsure of you is because he didn’t know who’d planted you, McCormick or us, and what your purpose there was. He’d entrenched himself so deeply in the plan he couldn’t back out. To do so would have landed him in jail for twenty years minimum as a co-conspirator.”
“Julie Polanski is dead.”
Chapter 45
Clarissa and Beck turned toward Banner. The man steadied himself against the wall and brought a hand to his face. He leaned forward, letting out a sob.
Around them, shadows danced across the floor. Clarissa grew concerned that Banner’s kids were going to walk in. When nothing happened, she attributed it to a passing car or a breeze strong enough to sway tree branches.
“What happened?” Beck said.
“Her neighbor heard a shot. Ran over. The front door was open. Julie was seated next to it. Gun in her hand. Blood and brains on the wall behind her.”
“Did anyone else see anything?”
Banner shook his head. “We don’t know. Oh, Jesus.” He paused to gather himself. “I should have put a stop to this as soon as they brought it up.”
Audrey distanced herself from her husband by taking two steps back.
“Who brought what up?” Beck asked, his tone flat and calm, as though he were a psychologist talking to a patient. He had to keep Banner talking.
“They came to me with this crazy plan. At first I told them they were crazy, and not only that, McCormick was crazy for doing that to himself. But with their idea, it’d eliminate McCormick and give me a chance.”
“Who came to you with the plan? Polanski and Jordan?”
Banner looked up, shook his head.
“Give you a chance for what?”
“Did McCormick promise you the Chief of Staff position if he was elected president?” Beck asked.
Banner continued to babble, lamenting the death of Julie Polanski.
“What did McCormick promise you?” Beck asked.
Banner shook his head. “Not McCormick. Jesus, put it together, man.”
Shadows crossed the floor again. Clarissa took a step back. She heard a slight jingling sound. Then the grandfather clock’s glass shattered and a bullet struck the pendulum, causing a tinny ring.
Two more shots were fired. The sound that followed was unmistakable. The shooters had hit Banner in the back of the head, and Audrey in the side of hers. They collapsed amid pink clouds of blood and brain, which descended upon their still bodies.
Beck grabbed Clarissa and pulled her into the kitchen. The room was closed off to their left and right, but the opposite end of the room faced outside and a window provided a view in. He pulled her toward the sink and they both fell to the floor, facing the room where Banner and his wife lay dead or dying.
“What the hell just happened?” she said.
“Looks like Julie wasn’t the only one who had to be taken care of.”
“Sinclair.”
“He’s either behind it, or he’s next.” Beck scrambled to his feet, turned and rose. “I don’t see anything out here, and it doesn’t sound like they’ve entered the home.”
“We should check,” she said. “They might know we’re in here and are setting us up.”
They exited the kitchen and took their time walking past the still bodies on the floor. Clarissa avoided Audrey’s lifeless stare. As they stepped into the next room, she spotted the holes in a window. If they were being set up, it’d be the worst frame-job ever. The shots obviously came from the outside. Of course, because of everything that had happened, Clarissa and Beck would be handed over to the government and none of the evidence would matter.
With Clarissa covering him, Beck opened the back door and stepped outside. The large backyard held no secrets. A six-foot privacy fence surrounded the property.
Sirens approached from the distance.
“We need to go,” she said.
“They might be waiting for us out there,” he said.
“Doesn’t matter, Beck. The cops are going to be here any minute now.”
He nodded, reached for her hand and together they ran toward the fence. He let go of her when they reached it so they could climb over. Every muscle in her body tightened as she exposed herself to the shooters.
But nothing happened.
She dropped to the ground and looked around. The wide grassy lot was empty. No house. No shooters. Of course, it might not be that easy. She knew that.
Beck gestured to the right and they ran that way. They wouldn’t be able to get the rental. Eventually, someone on Banner’s street would point out that it didn’t belong. The police would track it back to Beck eventually, even though Clarissa doubted that he’d used his name when securing the vehicle. At that point, their faces would be all over the evening news, and the twenty-four hour networks, too. They had to find Sinclair and put an end to this.
Beck pulled up his phone’s map application. “We’re in a different neighborhood. They don’t share the same ingress and egress. None of the streets connect.”
“They’ll look back here, though. We’ve got to get moving.”
He took a last glance at his phone, then began running. Clarissa followed. They worked their way through the neighborhood until they reached a major road. The sun was low enough that it hung behind the trees across the street. That did nothing to suppress the stifling heat and humidity. Her shirt was soaked with sweat. It’d only get worse, she presumed.
“There.” Beck pointed at a city bus lumbering toward them. He then spotted the bus stop and they jogged toward it.
No one else waited, and at first glance, the bus had few passengers. The bus’s destination sign read Reagan Airport. They couldn’t get through security, but they could get a car, and the airport could be a useful place to meet with someone trusted.
Seated at the back of the bus, Clarissa and Beck talked things through. Banner’s last words indicated that McCormick was not involved in the plans that Banner and Polanski made. It also seemed that Jordan was kept out of the loop. He thought he’d end up a hero. Instead, the vice president would be killed on his watch.
“How could I not see this?” Beck said. “It has to be Hogan.”
Clarissa recalled the man who had been in for part of their initial meeting. Banner introduced him as no one special. A guy on various committees and subcommittees. He was more than that.
“Hogan was the reason. He was the man the president was going to tap for the nomination. Once he found out what was going on, I guess through Banner or Polanski, he put his weight behind the assassination. For Polanski’s part, she’d get promoted.”
Clarissa said, “And Banner would be his Chief of Staff.”
Staring straight ahead, color drained from his face, Beck nodded and said nothing.
“What about Sinclair, though?” Clarissa said. “What does he get out of this?”
Beck shrugged. “You know him better than I do. You tell me.”
Clarissa turned toward the window. Streetlights flickered on. The sun hovered inches over the roofline of a strip mall, ducking behind the lone two-story building as the bus drove past.
“He never talked to me about things he wanted. He often treated me like a daughter, but only in how he looked out for me. That’s what makes this so unbelievable. He’s already tried to have me killed at least twice. I mean, I can look at the incident at the apartment and say that he did intend to kill Amy and you. But at the house? No doubt that Randy was sent to take care of me there.”
“So we know what Banner and Polanski had to do with this. We can see why Hogan would be involved. In his mind, he might’ve believed he had no choice. The response to McCormick would soar after surviving an assassination attempt.”
“But has Hogan mentioned anything about entering the race?”
Beck nodded. “Briefly, and from what I understand, he has the backing of President Rhodes.”
Five minutes later the bus pulled to the curb of Reagan National Airport’s departures terminal. Clarissa and Beck joined the few remaining passengers and exited onto the sidewalk. Without luggage, they looked out of place. It was the end of the week, though, and anyone looking might figure they were departing on a weekend getaway. Besides, the only scrutiny they would receive would be the first few steps. After they passed the ticketing counters, no one could figure them for who they were. They’d look like passengers who’d arrived early and preferred to wait near the main lobby rather than at their gate.
Travelers waited in snaking lines in front of the check-in counters. The airport cops walked or rode by, paying little attention to Clarissa and Beck. If they were going to be taken legally, the word would have been put out by now. She wondered when and if that would happen. At what point would Sinclair say he couldn’t complete the job, and that they should involve federal and local law enforcement?
After passing through the first line of defense, Clarissa spotted a clothing store. She pointed it out to Beck. He handed her two hundred dollars and told her he had a call to make while she picked out a new outfit.
She drew the wrong kind of attention from the woman behind the counter. It wasn’t until she passed a full-length mirror that she noticed her face matched the stains on her jeans. She smiled at the woman who now followed her around the store. The lady offered no help, only judgment.
Clarissa found a new pair of jeans, undergarments, and a couple t-shirts. Everything was overpriced, but she had the cash, and the change of clothes was necessary. She purchased without trying them on, fearing that the store employee would foll
ow her into the dressing room to prevent Clarissa from stealing something.
Exiting the clothing store, she scanned the long hallway, looking for Beck. He was nowhere to be seen. She figured he’d found a private place to make his call. The sensitive nature of the information he’d discuss required it.
She found a restroom and located an empty stall. There she changed. As she exited the stall, she bundled up her old clothing and tossed them in the trash, then washed her hands, arms and face with warm water.
Beck was nowhere to be found when she left the restroom, so she headed toward the main lobby and found an empty seat. Every person that passed had to be considered a threat until they proved otherwise. Under normal circumstances, the weapon she carried would put her at ease. But in the airport, it caused her to tense enough to make her feel nauseous. Little she could do about it, though, so she focused on her breathing and tried to keep her muscles loose.
After fifteen minutes of waiting, she reached for the cell phone Beck had given her earlier. Using it would make it useless moving forward, but she had no choice. However, as she pulled it out, she realized the contact list was empty. Beck hadn’t given her any of the other numbers.
Had she been abandoned?
Or worse, set up to take the fall?
Chapter 46
Clarissa’s heart pounded against her chest as she got up and moved toward the doors they had come in through. The crowd coming toward her was almost too much to process. Dozens of faces looked at her, past her, as they shuffled forward like the undead, boarding passes in hand and nothing to do but wait for their flights. She fought through the crowd on her way to the exit.
Nothing could be taken for granted. If the man she’d spent the last two days running with had turned against her, then she had nowhere else to go. She had no family. The only people she considered friends had been abandoned for her job with Sinclair. They’d take her in now, but she had no idea where they were or how to find them.
A man appeared at the exit. The face looked familiar. He stopped and fixed his stare on her. Through the jumble of bodies between them, she saw his hand go to his side, pulling his shirt out from his pants. He walked toward her.