by Jan Coffey
“Everything is here,” he said quietly as he glanced at the cop behind the wheel. “Barnhardt was Mako and the other guy spells out his involvement.”
“Yes, but this won’t stand up in court,’” Sarah challenged.
“Maybe it will and maybe it won’t,” he admitted. “But it will definitely start the ball rolling for impeachment.”
She lowered her voice. “The election is tomorrow. A voluntary resignation might be the fastest way to get him out of office.”
“You’d let him walk after all this?” he asked.
“We’d be taking away his power.” She shrugged. “But who knows, maybe the money trail will lead to him, anyway. Or perhaps we can find the man they call Kilo. He seems to be getting his orders right from the top. There’s nothing like first-person testimony.”
“That’s assuming they let him…or any of us…live.”
~~~~
Chapter 69
New Haven
Connecticut, 11:25 p.m.
“Thanks for the offer, but I really don’t want anything to eat or drink,” Amy told the female officer who had her sit and wait by one of the desks. Suddenly, she was so exhausted that she could hardly think straight. “I do need to use the phone, though.”
“Sorry, ma’am, but I can only let you use it when I get the okay.”
Amy tried to be patient, but she couldn’t, not after all she’d been through today. She wanted to call home and see if Kaitlyn and Zack were all right. She didn’t know who was looking after them. Back at the hospital, when she’d first introduced herself, Lieutenant Connelly had said that they were being cared for. But that was it. No more information.
At this hour, with the rally going after what had to be a law enforcement day from hell, the police station was practically deserted. Darius, Sarah, and Bruce were in one of the offices speaking to whoever was in charge. Everyone figured that Amy had nothing to do with anything.
Then why wouldn’t they let her call her family.
She leaned forward, cradling her head in her hands. Somewhere along the way, she’d forgotten about the headache, but it was back, pounding away with a vengeance.
“I’m making a fresh pot of coffee. If you change your mind, let me know,” the officer said, disappearing inside of what looked to be an employee lounge at the far end of the room.
Amy sat back in the chair, quite aware that she was the only person in the large open area, surrounded by clusters of desks and chairs. There were extra computers on desks in the center of the room. The door to the office where Darius and the others had entered was closed. She heard a noise from the hall. It sounded like someone falling down.
Or maybe…someone getting shot.
~~~~
Chapter 70
The White House
11:25 p.m.
“I don’t care how we do it, but we have to cut our losses,” Hawkins bellowed at Bob Fortier.
“You’re overreacting, Mr. President. This has to be a bluff. Let it ride. We must stay on course.”
“Five phone calls isn’t a bluff, you idiot.” Hawkins held up his spread hand so the other man could count his fingers. “Five of my Cabinet members have called me in the past ten minutes, wondering what the hell is going on. And if I am really tied to the hijacking in some way. The Attorney General hasn’t, yet. But I know what the fuck he’s doing. He’s getting a warrant for my arrest.”
“Mr. President.” Fortier put both hands up in his patronizing style that was really starting to get under Hawkins’s skin. “I think you and everyone else should just relax and get some sleep. There is nothing that can be traced back to you. An investigation like this takes months to conduct. And there are all kinds of legal loopholes. Meanwhile, tomorrow is the election. A lot of people have invested in you, all the way down the ladder to the local level.”
Hawkins barked at him. “You’re not hearing me. I don’t give a fuck about local or party politics.”
“No one—not John Penn or anyone else—can touch you. If this hits the news, we just laugh it off. Call it a slanderous hoax being foisted off on the public by an opponent desperate to win. They can prove anything. You’re going to be reelected, Mr. President, and then you’re—”
“Are you fucking deaf?” Hawkins shouted. “Right now, I don’t care about being reelected. I only care about one thing, and that is keeping my ass out of the fire. Understood?”
Wisely, Fortier didn’t argue.
“We have to turn this thing around tonight, so that we are the good guys,” Hawkins told him. “Blowing up the plane with the hijackers was a positive move. Killing that lunatic, Barnhardt, was another step in the right direction. Now, we have to stop that maniac Kilo before he totally gets out of control.”
“I agree that Nick Harmon can become somewhat overzealous, at times. That’s why he should always be kept on a short leash—the way Captain Barnhardt used him. Specific orders, short duration of time,” Fortier explained.
“Then reel him in. I don’t want him to burn down that whole damn city because of a couple of people who can’t hurt us.”
“I tried to do that. But he’s, well, unavailable.”
“What do you mean, unavailable?” Hawkins roared.
“Our men said Kilo is already inside the police station.”
~~~~
Chapter 71
New Haven, Connecticut
11:30 p.m.
Kilo tucked his pistol in his jacket and stepped over the dead body of the policeman. Down the hall, he could see the open space of an office area.
His NCIS badge had once again helped him to gain clearance past the front entrance. The unsuspecting dispatcher had been completely unaware that he’d just sealed his own death warrant.
Several desks filled the large space, but no one seemed to be around. Kilo looked at the three closed doors along the right wall. He wondered which one of those offices his prey were hiding in. As he moved into the room, a noise to his left drew his attention. Beyond a partially open door, he could hear water running. He drew his weapon and silently approached.
A counter with cabinets, a couple of coffee pots. A kitchen table with chairs. With each step, he saw a little more of the employee lounge area. The water in the sink was running, but no one was standing by it.
He shoved the door all the way open. It banged against the wall and bounced back. He looked in. No one was there. He backed out quickly.
“NHPD,” a woman’s voice called out behind him. “Drop your weapon and put your hands behind your head. Now!”
He started to turn around.
“Drop your weapon now!” the woman shouted.
He heard a door open across the room. He looked over his shoulder and saw a plainclothes cop rush into the room with his weapon drawn. McCann was right beside him. And there was the EB bitch that had given him so much grief all day.
Kilo looked back at the female cop. She didn’t want to shoot. He knew he could take both cops out before she even got off one round. He glanced at McCann. No threat there, either.
They’d already wasted too much time. He had to finish the job.
He spun and lifted his pistol with a speed that he knew was unmatched by anything these greenhorns ever faced. A gun fired. Kilo thought it was his, but suddenly he couldn’t find enough strength to fire a second shot. His pistol dropped to the floor. A second shot fired.
That one wasn’t his, either, he thought with surprise as the floor rose up to meet him.
~~~~
Chapter 72
Stonington, Connecticut
One month later,
Friday 8:10 a.m.
“The school bus will be here in fifteen minutes,” Amy warned her rambunctious children.
This morning, Kaitlyn couldn’t seem to decide between the white sneakers or the blue clogs.
Zack had been in the bathroom for more than five minutes, which meant there’d be some kind of disaster waiting for Amy in there. Yesterday, he’d created a mummy
out of her bathroom magazine basket with toilet paper. The day before that, he’d poured an entire bottle of bath bubbles into the toilet. She didn’t want to guess what would be waiting for her today.
As Amy finished packing the two lunches and put them in the school bags, she found herself thankful, as always, for the noise and the mess and the bickering. She also found herself dwelling on changes that were in store for them.
After the hijacking, she’d taken a week off. Upon going back to EB the following week, however, Amy had realized that she couldn’t do it. She was ready for change. New hours. A different job. Something. She had to get out of the shipyard and away from the reminders of what she’d gone through.
These feelings were helped along by the fact that it was inevitable for another wave of layoffs to take place. The security problems associated with the Hartford hijacking were a smear on the shipyard’s reputation that wouldn’t be erased too easily. She was planning on putting a new resume together next week.
Amy’s gaze drifted for a second to the folded newspaper sitting on the counter. Darius smiled back at her from his photo in the Accent page, and she felt the now familiar tug on her heart. Darius McCann’s handsome face was worthy of a thousand articles, and he was a story that never got old. America loved its heroes, and he’d become even bigger news than John Penn’s narrow defeat of Hawkins in the Presidential election.
As far as the press and the public knew, the hijacking had been the work of a group of home-grown terrorists, although the details were still sketchy. Barnhardt’s name had reached the press, but not the others. The rest of the culprits had died in the plane crash. The tabloid press was still fuming daily at the secrecy with which the “ongoing investigation” was being handled.
Interestingly enough, since the recovery of the submarine, there had not been one whisper about any possible involvement on the part of William Hawkins or anyone else in his administration.
Sarah Connelly had called Amy the week following the ordeal. With the election turning out as it had, she’d told Amy that there probably wouldn’t be any immediate action to remove the President, but that the Vice President would be assuming most of his duties, without fanfare for the final days of the term. Still, she and Bruce were working with an elite group at the Justice Department to build the criminal case against the President, his campaign manager, and a handful of their helpers and financial backers. Admiral Meisner had not been implicated, Sarah told her.
Criminal charges would be brought against Hawkins and the others once he left office in January. Of course, there was always the chance that John Penn would sign a pardon for his former rival, but Sarah doubted that would happen. Knowing what she knew, Amy couldn’t help but agree.
Meanwhile, stories had leaked to the press about Commander Darius McCann’s bravery. He’d granted very few interviews. He’d made a point of flying to Florida to visit his parents and make sure his mother was recovering well, but he had yet to show up on the talk shows. The navy wanted to show him off, but he wasn’t ready to step into the limelight.
Amy had also been approached by reporters wanting her to talk about her experience, but she’d refused all of them—even the movie people. She wanted no reminders and no attention. She wanted to forget that she had ever been there. Beside, she had someone much better than Tom Cruise in her life.
Due to the investigations, Darius had been needed in Washington while Amy and the kids were in Connecticut. But for the past month, he’d come every Saturday and Sunday to visit. There was something very right about the time they all spent together. The twins had accepted him right away. He was fun, and he showed genuine interest in them, in their activities, their interests, and in Amy.
At the same time, she continued to have the nagging fear that he’d soon realize she was no fun. She and the kids were a package deal. There had been no crazy weekends with just the two of them. Their romance had to wait until the twins were tucked in bed. And even after that, she couldn’t let him stay the night.
Still, the sex was…
Amy let out a shaky sigh, wishing it was already Saturday. Then again, in spite of what he’d said, there was no guarantee that he’d even come this weekend.
“I want to wear the clogs, but I don’t have any blue socks.”
Kaitlyn’s voice from the doorway drew Amy’s attention back to reality. She fought back a moment of guilt at allowing herself to daydream like this, but she couldn’t help but feel the heat on her face. She looked at the clock.
“Five minutes till the bus,” she said, hurriedly zipping up the lunch bags. “Honey, you don’t wear blue socks with blue shoes. White socks will look better.” She knocked on the bathroom door. “Zack, did you fall in?”
“But I want to try blue socks.”
“You don’t have blue socks. Why don’t you wear white ones today, and I’ll buy you blue socks over the weekend.” She turned in the direction of the bathroom again. “Zack, it’s time to go.”
Kaitlyn disappeared inside her bedroom. Amy glanced at the kitchen and all the dirty dishes and cringed. She’d made chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast.
She caught a glimpse of her daughter passing by the doorway. Kaitlyn was undressing. Amy rushed to the bedroom.
“Honey, what are you doing?”
“I’m changing my clothes.”
“Why?”
“’Cuz I’ve decided to wear my black boots.”
“Your black boots will go perfectly with the blue sweater and checkered skirt you have on.”
Kaitlyn crinkled her nose as she looked at herself in the mirror. “No, it doesn’t look good.” She continued to undress.
The bathroom door opened at that moment and Zack stepped out. Amy gasped.
“How do you like my hair?”
Zack had rubbed about a quart of mousse into his hair. He had it spiked up with the ends standing three inches from his scalp.
“Do you like it?” he asked again.
Amy cracked up. The whole situation was just too ridiculous. Over this past month, she’d lost her rhythm. They all had. But she’d certainly lightened up in general, and Amy didn’t think that was such a bad thing.
“I like it, but you might have used just a tad too much hair gel.”
He stepped back in the bathroom, looking in the mirror again. “I think you’re right, Mommy. Maybe I could fix it.”
“Just don’t get close to any open flames, Zack.”
There was a knock on the apartment door. She figured it had to be Barbara. Perhaps the older woman had forgotten something. Amy rushed to the door and opened it.
Darius was standing in the hallway.
“Crap.” Her heart slammed in her chest, then she slammed the door.
She’d come home at the end of her shift at 6:30 this morning and hadn’t bothered to take a shower or even look at herself in the mirror. Amy looked down at her bare feet and the old pair of jeans and tee shirt she was wearing.
Another knock. She opened the door.
“What did you say?”
“I said…uh, glad. I’m glad to see you.” She wrinkled her nose and went into his arms. He kissed her deeply. She ended it as she gestured for him to go inside the apartment with a toss of her head. “The beasties are getting ready for school.”
He looked amused. He also looked damn good in his khakis and a black sweater. He smelled good, too, she decided, breathing in his spicy cologne. His hair was still wet, and he had a close shave.
She kissed his neck, but she had to stop herself before she got carried away. “What are you doing here? We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.”
“I think Zack and Kaitlyn missed the school bus.” He pointed to the street.
“Shoot.” She looked at her watch. “Yes, they did. We’ve been having a little trouble this morning. Zack? Kaitlyn?” She started to walk toward the bedrooms. Darius followed her in.
She peered into the living room. It was reasonably neat. On weekends, she tried to p
resent the best of them to him, but Amy guessed a small dose of family reality wasn’t a bad thing. And this wasn’t too bad.
She knocked on the bathroom door again.
“Zack, you can’t stay in there all day.”
She had to change, too. Look in the mirror, at least. Do something to tame her wild hair.
Amy turned around. “I have to drive them to school.” Darius was right behind her.
“Can I drive the three of you? Then, maybe you’ll let me take you out for breakfast.”
The twins must have heard his voice because they both tumbled out to greet him. Feeling a rush of emotion, Amy took the chance to escape to her bedroom to hide it. It was terrifying how much he already meant to them. And to her.
She almost died at the sight of her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was flattened in places from the hardhat, while the rest of the curls stood out in every which way. Zack’s hair looked normal compared to hers. She had pancake batter on her shirt. Her face was pale from working third shift and not getting enough sleep. She looked at the clock. There wasn’t enough time to take a shower.
Amy grabbed a sweater out of her closet and pulled it over her head. She tried tying her hair back with a scrunchy, but the curls wouldn’t be contained. She gave up that struggle, put on some lipstick, grabbed a pair of socks, and walked out.
Kaitlyn had a clog on one foot and a black boot on the other, and she was asking Darius’s opinion as to which looked better. He was standing and looking very seriously at the little girl.
Kaitlyn beamed up at seeing her mother. “Darius says the white socks and the blue clogs look good.”
“That’s ‘Commander McCann’ to you,” Amy corrected. “And I think I told you the same thing, thank you.”
“White socks it is, then,” the seven-year-old smiled at Darius before going into her bedroom.
Amy turned to face Darius. “Where is Zack?”
“Back in the bathroom,” he smiled.
“I’m sorry. You haven’t seen us like this. This isn’t really the norm. It’s just that I got out of work a little early and tried to do a bit too much in the breakfast department this morning, and I think they’re already on a sugar high with the chocolate chip pancakes I fed them and—”