Rules of Engagement

by Ken Fite

  “Emma,” I said as both of our voices were getting louder and beginning to echo inside the room, “I’ve done nothing but serve this country, and I’ve given it everything I’ve had. I’ve saved the president’s life. Twice,” I said with emphasis. “I lost my job at DDC, I lost my wife, and I lost my father because of my service to this country. Everything I’ve ever cared about has been taken away from me,” I said. “This job is all I have left now. There’s nowhere else for me to go. There’s nothing else I want to do but serve the president, Emma. I’ll help him fight this. The American people will understand what we were doing here.”

  Jami remained silent. Ross looked down at the floor for several seconds before replying in a whisper. “That’s not how it will be portrayed,” she said. “You and I both know that. They’ll try to impeach him. They’ll say he sidestepped the process, took the law into his own hands. The beginning of the end, Blake.”

  I shook my head and tried to calm myself down as I thought about what Keller’s chief of staff was saying. “Then what do you suggest?” I asked in a soft, low voice, trying to find a third option, but not seeing one.

  Emma paused for a few moments, glancing at Jami, then back over to me. “The president would never fire you, Blake. That’s why you need to resign.”

  I was taken aback by the suggestion, but it didn’t stop there.

  “I’ve already called in a favor. I can have a private jet ready within an hour to take you out of the country.”

  “Out of the country?” I repeated. “You want me to disappear?”

  Ross nodded.

  I took a step closer. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’m not leaving my job and I’m not going anywhere, Emma.” Turning to Jami, I motioned to the door. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  “Thanks for your help,” said Jami as we walked through the doorway and passed by a Secret Service agent.

  “Think about it, Blake,” called Ross from behind. I ignored her and kept moving. I had to find Meg Taylor.

  THIRTY-SIX

  SIMON HARRIS RETURNED to his cubicle with an ice-cold soda in his hand that he had purchased in the Hoover Building’s third-floor break room just a few moments earlier. Checking his watch, Harris saw that it was four thirty in the morning. He wouldn’t be getting sleep anytime soon and needed to stay alert. He unlocked his computer, pulled the tab on top of the can of soda, and took a sip as his eyes glanced up at the computer monitor, and he saw that something had changed since he had gotten up from the desk that he was working from temporarily—Agent Davis’s loaner vehicle was now moving again.

  He carefully set the soda down, keeping his eyes glued to the monitor, and leaned in closer to the screen.

  Locking his workstation, Harris stood, left the cubicles where he, Lynne May, and the rest of his DDC colleagues were working, and headed down the hall toward where he thought Bill Landry’s office was located. Passing through the dark corridor, he found an office with Landry’s name posted outside it.

  The door was closed, so Simon knocked three times. There was no answer. “Mr. Landry?” he said, knocking again and waiting for an answer, but there was still no response. Simon turned to look back down the corridor and saw a couple of Bureau agents pass by, headed to one of their coworkers’ desks or maybe to the break room to get some caffeine to help get them through the next several hours of work.

  Simon reached for the door handle, turned it slowly, and pushed the door open. The office was empty.

  Taking a look farther down the opposite side of the corridor, three offices past Landry’s, he noticed a light on and started walking toward it. As he approached, he saw another nameplate posted outside the office, with MULVANEY on it. It was the FBI director’s office, and as he stepped closer, he saw that it was twice the size of Landry’s. Peter Mulvaney was wearing a white dress shirt, his sleeves rolled up, and his tie loosened. Glancing inside, Simon saw that the director’s suit jacket was folded over a chair across the room. Mulvaney was hovering over his phone, glancing over to his computer monitor, and pressed a button on his landline to get a dial tone so he could enter in the conference call number to join a meeting.

  Harris knocked on the door as the director looked over his shoulder. “Yes?” he asked, sounding rushed.

  “Director Mulvaney,” began Harris, who paused and looked back to his left towards Landry’s office, “I’m Simon Harris, part of the DDC team that’s working down the hall.” The sound of the dial tone awaiting a number to be punched in filled the room, and Mulvaney turned back to disconnect the call while Harris continued. “I’m looking for Lynne May. She was meeting with Bill Landry, but they’re not in his office.”

  “Nice to meet you, Simon,” said Director Mulvaney. “I just spoke with them a little while ago. Bill may have taken Lynne down to the cafeteria. Give them a few minutes, okay? They should be back in a bit.”

  Mulvaney flashed a reassuring smile and pointed to the door. “Can you get that for me?”

  Simon returned the smile, reached in to pull the door closed, and headed back toward his cubicle. When he returned, Simon unlocked his screen and reached for the soda, but saw that something else had changed besides Davis’s vehicle moving. Two notifications flashed on his screen from the cellular tracking system that he had set as soon as Davis’s and Jordan’s phones had turned off. Both phones were now on.

  Deciding that he needed to tell someone what he knew, Simon pulled up the instant messenger program and began to ping Morgan Lennox, but decided he’d better have the conversation over the phone. Simon clicked on Lennox’s name, saw the phone number to his direct line displayed, and reached for the phone.

  “Lennox,” he said, answering on the first ring.

  “Morgan, it’s Simon.”

  Harris heard the man take a deep breath and let it out. “What do you want?” he asked, still annoyed.

  “Jami’s vehicle is on the move,” replied Harris. “It was parked near the White House for close to an hour. Her cell phone is back online now. So is Jordan’s. I was supposed to alert Mrs. May, but I can’t find her.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line. “What do you mean you can’t find her, Simon?”

  Harris rested both elbows on top of his desk, lowered his head, and closed his eyes as he thought through the last several minutes. “I don’t know,” he replied. “She hasn’t returned to the desk she’s working from. You were on the phone with us when Landry stopped by and said they needed to talk. I went to his office, and it was empty with the lights turned off. I found Director Mulvaney; he said not to worry about it.”

  There was more silence from Morgan’s side of the line before he finally decided to speak. “Simon,” he said, “she pinged me a while ago. Said she needed to talk, but she never called. I thought it was her calling me.”

  Simon jumped in his chair, startled by two hard knocks that came from overhead. He looked up and saw Bill Landry hovering over his desk. “Mr. Landry,” said Harris, pulling the phone away and keeping it out of Landry’s direct line of sight as he looked up at the man standing on the other side of the cubicle wall.

  “Any progress?” the Bureau man grunted.

  Simon pointed at his screen. “Agent Davis’s vehicle is on the move. And her cell phone’s back online, so is Jordan’s.” Harris looked up at Landry. “I stopped by your office earlier. I can’t find Mrs. May anywhere.”

  Landry nodded. “Lynne’s not feeling well, Simon. I told her that there was a privacy room located inside each of the restrooms, where she could sit down and rest her eyes for a while.” Landry paused for a beat. “Not sure how long she’ll be gone. Go ahead and send what you have to my screen. I’m taking over until she feels better. And I’ll give you access to the Bureau’s fleet-tracking system as well. I need you to monitor Chris Reed’s vehicle for me, too.” Simon stared blankly at Landry, who raised his eyebrows. “Got it?”

  Harris nodded slowly. “Got it,” he replied. “Sending th
e details over to your screen right now.”

  “Good. I’ll be in my office. If anything changes, I need to be aware of it. Hell of a time for her to feel sick.”

  Simon watched as Landry turned and stepped toward the dark corridor. He grabbed the receiver that he had set on his desk and brought it back to his ear. “Morgan? Still there?”

  Lennox replied that he was.

  Harris cradled the phone against his ear and used two hands to get back to work. “You get all that?”

  Morgan said that he did and walked Simon through the steps to send the tracking details from the DDC system to the Bureau’s so that Landry could grab it and see what Simon was viewing on his own screen.

  “Simon, I need you to do me a favor, mate. Dial zero, talk to security, and confirm for me that May didn’t leave the building. As a visitor, she would have had to sign out.” He paused before adding, “Something doesn’t feel right. I just want to make sure Landry didn’t escort her out of the building.”

  After agreeing, Harris disconnected, heard a dial tone and hit zero. “Security,” a voice said immediately.

  “This is Simon Harris, one of the visiting DDC analysts. Can you tell me if Lynne May stepped out?”

  “No, sir,” the man on the other end of the line said. “None of the visitors have signed out yet, Mr. Harris.”

  Simon thanked the man, disconnected the line, and pinged Morgan to tell him that May was still there. Morgan didn’t reply, but Simon decided that if he didn’t see May within the hour, he’d go check on her.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  JAMI AND I knocked on the door to Meg Taylor’s apartment. When she didn’t answer, I used a knife and started working on the lock. About a minute later, I heard it click, turned the handle, and pushed it open. We stepped inside and flicked the light switch on. With my weapon aimed at the floor, I signaled with my left hand for Jami to go and check out the room to our left as I headed to the one located on my right. Thirty seconds later, the apartment was clear, and we met in the kitchen area to figure out our next steps.

  “Where do you think she is?” asked Jami. “It’s almost five in the morning. You’d think she’d be here.”

  I shook my head and turned around, scanning the home as I looked for anything that seemed out of place. “Maybe at a boyfriend’s house.” I rubbed my hand over my face and felt my stubble starting to grow in, realizing I had been awake for close to twenty-four hours and was feeling tired as I continued to look around.

  Jami made a face. “Or maybe she’s out celebrating. Biggest story of her life hits the newsstands this morning.”

  I nodded and stepped past Jami, entering the room she had cleared. I came out and checked the other one again. “I see clothes on the bed,” I said and paused to think. “Maybe she was packing to go somewhere.”

  Jami shrugged. “So what do we do?”

  “Keep moving,” I said and started for the door. “I’ll call the White House and see if Keller’s made progress. You call Chris and Mark, make sure they’re close by. We need to plan how we’ll handle Nikolai Ivanov.”

  Before I got to the door, I noticed a yellow sticky note with a pen next to it on the kitchen counter. I picked it up and saw that there were large marks on the top sheet. Taylor had written something down quickly.

  “What is it?” asked Jami as I stepped into the kitchen and walked under one of the fluorescent lights.

  Tilting the notepad, I confirmed what I thought I had seen and showed it to Jami. “Help me find a pencil,” I said, setting the notepad down and opening the drawers in the kitchen until I found a dull number two. I used the pencil to gently apply a light coat of lead over the deep grooves that covered the notepad until the entire square was covered. I held it to my eyes and nodded to myself before I gave it to Jami to look at.

  Jami took the pencil from the counter and filled in the grooves that were now easier to see. “It’s an address.”

  “Northwest Washington,” I confirmed as she handed it back to me and I motioned for the door. “Let’s go.”

  We headed out to Jami’s SUV and I climbed into the driver’s seat. I plugged the address into the GPS, folded the note in half, and stuffed it into my pocket. I felt the ring as I shoved it in and turned to Jami. “Call the guys,” I said and pointed to the address on the navigation screen. “Have them meet us there.”

  Jami put her seatbelt on and started digging for her phone as I pulled the vehicle out onto P Street. I made a turn north on Wisconsin and looked over to Jami and saw her scrolling through her phone to call Chris. “It’s Jami,” she said as she looked out the passenger window. I got into the right-hand lane as the traffic light up ahead turned red. I slowed the SUV so I could check the traffic on the cross street to make sure it was clear before driving through the light. I flipped on the overhead police lights and crossed the intersection as Jami brought Reed up to speed with our visit to Keller and our search of Meg Taylor’s apartment. “Chris, we’re at Wisconsin and Q Street, heading north. We need you to meet us at…” Jami paused.

  I looked over and saw Jami lean forward, staring into the side mirror.

  “Blake! Look out!”

  I looked up and saw in the rearview mirror a vehicle with its headlights off headed straight for us.

  I twisted the steering wheel to the right, stepped on the gas, and pulled the SUV halfway onto the sidewalk to get out of its way. “Hold on!” I yelled as I stretched my arm across Jami and closed my eyes.

  We braced for impact, but the vehicle sped past us through the intersection and made a sharp turn several blocks down the road. I looked at Jami. We were both breathing hard, shaken by what happened.

  “Drunk?” asked Jami, and I shrugged.

  Looking into the driver’s side mirror, I checked the road again. Before I could pull out, I heard a cell phone ringing. I looked down and picked up my phone, but realized the sound was coming from my pocket. Jami and I exchanged a look as I dug for the phone.

  “Jordan,” I said and looked into the rearview mirror again as I waited for a response. Several seconds passed as I heard Jami tell Chris that she was going to have to call him back. She stared at me and asked who was on the phone, but I just ignored her. “This is Jordan,” I said into the phone Dimitri had given me.

  “Mr. Jordan,” came the voice, loud enough that I knew Jami could hear what was being said. “I believe you know the reason why I am calling.” He paused for several seconds as Jami continued to stare at me. “You have exactly one hour before daybreak to deliver my father to me. Have you made any progress?”

  I checked the side mirror and then faced forward again. “The president says he’s being held at Mount Weather, sixty miles west of DC.” I stretched out my arm and looked at my watch. “I need more time.”

  “You’ve had plenty of time, Mr. Jordan. You don’t need more time—you just need a little motivation.”

  There was a sound of the phone being moved, followed by heavy breathing. “Don’t listen to him, Blake,” came a familiar voice on the other end of the line. “Don’t do it. Take Jami and get the hell out of there.”

  Dimitri started laughing, distant at first, but it became louder as he moved the phone back to his face. “One hour, Jordan. If you want Redding back alive, you’ll bring my father to me. And if not—” I heard the young man take another deep breath and let it out slowly “—don’t make the old man pay for your crimes. Because when I’m done with him, I’m coming after Agent Davis.”

  I looked to my right. My eyes locked with Jami’s. They were wide as she stared blankly at me, hearing everything.

  “Then I’m coming for you.”

  I turned away from Jami and looked out the driver’s side window, thinking. “How do I find you?”

  “I will find you,” he replied. “Get my father back, Mr. Jordan. You do that, and I will give you the old man. And if you don’t…” I heard Charlie scream in pain. “One hour,” he repeated, and the line went dead.

  I pulled th
e phone away to confirm that the call was disconnected and turned to look at Jami.

  “Dimitri,” she began. “You said that if he doesn’t get his father back by daybreak, there’ll be another bombing.”

  “That’s what he said, Jami,” I replied and turned away as I stuffed Ivanov’s phone back into my pocket.

  She stared at me. “You’re lying.” We sat in silence for several seconds. “I heard what he said, Blake.”

  I set an arm against the door and rested my head in my hand. I looked over to her, took in a deep breath, and thought about what Dimitri had said. “He’s coming after you,” I admitted. “If I don’t get his father back to him by daybreak, he’s going to kill Charlie Redding. Then he’s going to hunt you down, Jami.” I paused for several seconds. “I shouldn’t have told you to go to Charlie’s. They followed you over there. Took him as insurance to make sure I follow through with what he wants. There’s no way out of this now.”

  Jami shook her head. Several more seconds passed before she spoke again. “What are we going to do?”

  Before I could respond, her cell started to ring, and I thought about our options as she answered the call.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  IT WAS CHRIS Reed calling Jami back. She gave him our location, and Reed said that he and Reynolds were only five minutes out and would meet up with us so we could regroup before heading out to the northwest Washington address together. I was familiar with the area and told Jami that I needed to call Morgan to see what he could find out about who lived there and ask what the best approach in would be.

  As I started to dial, Jami reached over and grabbed my arm. “We need to talk.” She paused. “About us.”

  “Not now,” I said.

  “If not now, when?”

  I shook my head. “Chris and Mark will be here any minute now, I have to call Morgan before we head out, and I still need to call the White House to see if Keller’s made any progress with Nikolai Ivanov, Jami.”