“That’s because we won’t be,” Blunt said. “I’m only coming to support you, sir. And don’t get any other ideas about it.”
Michaels chuckled. “Great. I look forward to seeing you tonight. Oh, and one more thing.”
“What’s that, sir?”
“I’m sure you’ve heard that every agency in the city is looking for Titus Black.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that situation.”
“I know you were friends with his father, so you haven’t happened to have heard from him, have you?”
Blunt paced around his office. “Why would you think he’d try to reach out to me?”
“I don’t know. Just playing a hunch.”
“I haven’t spoken to him in quite a while,” Blunt said, selling the lie with all the sincerity he could muster.
“Well, please help us if you do. That bastard needs to pay for what he did.”
“If he did what they’re accusing him of,” Blunt corrected.
“Why would you think otherwise? He’s the reason my son is dead. That bastard never answered for that.”
“I believe he was exonerated by an investigation, wasn’t he?”
Michaels grunted. “Don’t be ridiculous, J.D. You’ve been in this city long enough to know that exoneration isn’t the same as a declaration of innocence.”
“Perhaps you’re right, but I’d suggest trying not to let that cloud your judgment.”
“How can I not? Michael Jr.’s absence is a daily reminder of how Titus Black failed me and this country.”
“I understand how you feel, sir. I trust we’ll be able to find him soon and get the answers we all want.”
Blunt hung up and slung his phone across the room. He had been friends with President Michaels for a long time, but he was still blaming the loss of his son on Black. And Michaels seemed intent on exacting some sort of revenge on Black.
Blunt was convinced more than ever that Senator Gaither knew precisely how to manipulate the situation to get away with his crime. And the Firestorm director was determined more than ever not to let that happen.
He slumped into his chair and stared out the window as the sun rose over the Potomac. He knew there wasn’t much time left for Titus Black to prove who was really behind the shooting and what it was all about.
CHAPTER 30
BLACK SPENT THE MORNING sifting through all the files that Shields had managed to decrypt, which weren’t many. They were mostly more emails between the Russian general, Ivan Kozlov, all discussing dates and times for pickups for certain “packages.”
“These would be enough to turn public sentiment,” Black said, “but we need more than that right now.”
“I’m starting to worry that there isn’t a smoking gun in here,” Shields said.
“Do you need another energy drink?” Black asked.
“Of course, but I’m not about to let you go outside and get one for me. And the fridge is bare.”
Black sighed and paced around the room. “What are we missing? There’s got to be something else here.”
By lunchtime, Black was starting to wonder if he should resign himself to his fate. He couldn’t live holed up in a safe house his whole life. Not that he would survive in such confined quarters anyway. He needed wide open spaces, the smell of pine trees while hiking up a mountainside, the crisp sound of frost crunching beneath his feet on a late fall morning. Hiding from the FBI and every other agency hunting for him sounded about the same as prison. It sounded like his personal version of hell.
“Cheer up,” Shields said. “We’re going to find something. I just know it.”
“I’m glad you have confidence in yourself,” Black said. “It’s a good trait to have.”
“You have it too.”
“Unfortunately, not in this case. I’m used to everyone letting me down, remember?”
“Your stepdad?”
Black nodded. “And the Air Force, which didn’t act fast enough to get my father when he was shot down while flying his A-10 over Afghanistan.”
“That’s why you didn’t hesitate to go after Captain Watkins, isn’t it? You wanted to do for him what no one did for you dad, didn’t you?”
“And I rescued him only to drag him back here and put him right in the center of the bullseye for someone within his own government,” Black said. “Some messiah I was for Watkins.”
“Sometimes you can do everything right and it still goes wrong. It’s not your fault what happened to him here.”
“But I could have prevented it. He was scared—and for good reason, too. I should’ve listened to him and taken his concerns more seriously. That’s why I think there’s got to be more to this than what we’re seeing on the surface.”
“Then let’s dig deeper. Talking about it isn’t going to help us rectify this situation.”
“Just play along with me for a second here,” Black said. “I’m spitballing, but I think we need to consider why Gaither and his cohorts would try to murder me.”
“It’s pretty simple—you know the truth.”
Black wagged his index finger at her. “I’m not so sure that’s the only reason.”
“With Watkins gone, you’re the only person who could implicate them at this point in this ring. There’s no other evidence.”
“But my evidence is only hearsay, according to the courts. It’d just be what I learned in a conversation I had with Watkins. And you and I both know that kind of shaky evidence could get tossed out easily by a judge, especially a judge who owes Senator Gaither a few favors.”
“You did have the flash drive. Maybe that’s what they were really after.”
Black shrugged. “Great. So, the answer to why Gaither’s men want me dead is on an encrypted file that not even our own NSA can crack.”
“Hasn’t cracked yet,” Shields corrected. “Gotta think positive here.”
“I’ll keep my fingers crossed, but I’m not counting on anybody coming through for us.”
“Look, just because you’ve been let down in the past doesn’t mean you should stop trusting people all the time everywhere, much less counting on them. I know in the world of espionage, trust is viewed as a negative characteristic, but it can turn out to be a positive one. Trust me.”
She winked at Black.
Black rolled his eyes. “That was a great pep talk, right up until the moment that you decided that lame joke was necessary.”
“Get over here and help me look at this from a fresh perspective,” she said. “I’ve been staring at the screen longer than you have. Maybe I’m missing something.”
Then Shields’s phone rang with a call from Blunt. She put the call on speaker.
“Please tell me the NSA came through,” she said.
“Mallory Kauffman, to be exact,” Blunt said. “Ever heard of her?”
“I’ve heard her name.”
“She’s the analyst Besserman assigned to help with this project. And it so happens that she and I have a mutual acquaintance. She just sent back the files she was able to crack. I made a copy and will try to see what I can find, but I know you’re the best one qualified for the job.”
“What did she say about what she found?” Shields asked.
“Nothing, just that it still seemed like the messages were written in some kind of code. She said she’d make another run at them later but had a more pressing matter on her plate.”
“We’ll call you if we find something,” she said.
“Good luck,” Blunt said before he hung up.
Energized by the prospect of looking at something different, Black pulled up a chair next Shields as the two agents sifted through the new emails that had previously been secure. But by the time 4:00 p.m. rolled around, they still hadn’t found anything substantive.
“This isn’t getting us anywhere,” Black said. “I have no idea why these files were even secured in the first place. There’s nothing here.”
“The only thing that looks odd to me are all these num
bers appear to be randomly dropped into their conversations,” Shields said. “Look at this one.”
Black jotted down the numbers, and his eyes widened. “This is today’s date.”
“And look what else appears in this message,” she said, pointing at the screen.
“Gaither was feeding information to Roman, who was passing it along to Kozlov,” Black said. “And then there’s Michaels’s name. They’re going to try and assassinate Michaels.”
“But why? What would Gaither have to gain from eliminating the president?”
Black shrugged. “I’m not sure, but it’s spelled out in black and white for us right here.”
“See if you can reach Blunt. Maybe he can alert the Secret Service about the threat.”
Black dialed Blunt’s number. The call went straight to voicemail. After a couple minutes, Black entered the number before Shields stopped him from calling again.
“Leave it alone,” she said. “Someone might be monitoring his phone. We don’t want to risk having our location exposed.”
“But we have to tell Secret Service. Somebody needs to know before they arrive at the Kennedy Center.”
“That’s not our job, especially when you’re being hunted.”
“You’re right,” Black said. “It’s not our job. It’s our duty. If some foreign government is on our soil and has a plot to assassinate our president, we need to do something about it.”
“What are you gonna do? Go down there?”
“That’s exactly what I plan on doing,” Black said.
“You’ll never get close enough to Michaels,” she said. “And if you do, who knows if he’ll even listen to you. He still blames you for what happened to his son.”
“It might be the only way out of my current situation. If I save President Michaels, it’ll prove where my loyalties lie. No one will believe that I was trying to kill Gaither, especially after we expose him for what he truly is: a traitor.”
“You’re right,” she said, “but I still don’t think you need to go charging into the lion’s den while that target is painted on your chest.”
“If I can get behind enemy lines in Russia, I can get behind enemy lines in my own country,” Black said.
“But you don’t even know how the Russians plan on killing Michaels tonight.”
“Right now, that’s the least of my concerns,” Black said. “I've got to figure out a way inside first. After that, I’ll worry about the rest.”
“For the record, I don’t like this,” Shields said.
“Well, I’m not doing this alone,” he said. “Without you, none of this is going to work. So, are you in?”
Shields nodded resolutely. “Of course. I’ll follow you and keep you off the security cameras with a little bit of my wizardry.”
“A little bit of your magic always helps,” he said as he grabbed his keys and darted toward the door.
CHAPTER 31
BLUNT LUMBERED UP THE STEPS to the president’s private box and steadied himself with his cane before easing into his chair. The auditorium was teeming with security, a sure sign that the president would appear soon.
While the crowd filed into their seats, Blunt leaned forward and scanned the sea of people below him. He spotted a handful of the city’s most well-known lobbyists as well as a few other high-ranking officials from both political parties, all eager to be seen at the prestigious Kennedy Center Honors ceremony. If there was one thing that could unite Washington, it was a celebration of the performing arts. Several dignitaries from other countries were filling up their boxes on the mezzanine level, giving the event a decidedly global flavor to it. And based on the award recipients, that made sense.
The most famous of all the actors and singers was Anna Tara, the latest starlet to dazzle Hollywood. Her movies had become some of the highest grossing dramas in the movie industry over the past several years, making her one of the most sought-after actresses. But her friendly disposition and warm personality made her a hit among fans, who she embraced no matter where she was or what she was doing.
Blunt had seen a couple of her films and was impressed. He was also interested where she came from since she seemed to emerge out of nowhere to become a hot commodity in a business where most people are forced to pay their dues before winning any major roles. What he found was that she didn’t just stumble into her stardom. For several years, she had been paying her dues in the fledgling Ukranian movie market, making films under her given name, Anastasia Tarasenko. She assumed a more westernized version of her name at the behest of her agent when she first auditioned for a role in a movie produced in Hollywood. And everything was launched from there.
Out of the corner of his eye, Blunt noticed someone easing into the seat to his right.
“Ms. Thornhill,” Blunt said as he turned and offered his hand.
She smiled as she settled into her chair. “I must be in the wrong box.”
“I know,” Blunt said. “How you got stuck with the commoners is something I’d take up with management here.”
She chuckled and waved dismissively. “I don’t know if anyone has told you this, but I’m a sucker for flattery.”
Blunt shrugged. “It’s Washington. Isn’t everyone?”
“Good point. We do love our egos stroked here, don’t we?”
“Speaking of which, have you seen the president? I wanted to thank him for getting me into his private box, but I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him.”
“That’s because he’s only going to be in here for a few minutes. He wanted to participate in handing out the awards this year.”
“Really?” Blunt said, furrowing his brow. “That doesn’t sound like him.”
“I think he wanted to meet Anna Tara from what I hear.”
“Well, I think we’d all jump at the chance to shake her hand and have a picture taken with her. She’s such a breath of fresh air among most of the Hollywood types.”
“Absolutely,” Thornhill said. “The president is going to hand out her award tonight with Vasyl Petrenko.”
“Why would he share the stage with the Ukranian president? That’s an odd move sure to ruffle the Russian’s feathers.”
“Designed to ruffle feathers,” she corrected. “Michaels knows what he’s doing.”
“And I’m not sure that’s the brightest idea.”
“If you feel strongly about it, perhaps you should return to the senate and do something.”
Blunt sighed and shook his head. “My days at the Capitol building are long gone. I prefer to do most of my work out of the limelight.”
“Well, I certainly rue the fact that I never got to work with you,” she said. “I’ve heard great things about your statesmanship.”
“Whoever told you such things didn’t tell you the full story.”
“Enlighten me.”
“There’s not much to it,” Blunt said. “The truth is I discovered that being amenable to other’s ideas that I didn’t fully agree with just so I could get part of my agenda passed only watered down my influence. In my latter years, I found a much more direct approach worked better, enabling me to achieve more than I ever thought possible.”
“That sounds like a ringing endorsement.”
Blunt winked and nodded. “Just be sure that you’re ready to leave your position when you do start behaving in such a manner. You won’t be long for this city if you speak truthfully.”
Before their conversation went any further, a strange hush fell over the auditorium as everyone started to pick up their phones. The eerie silence was followed by gasps and then a murmur that spread across the room like a wave. While many of the people in attendance just read the news with mouths agape, many political officials left their seats to answer calls or make them.
“I wonder what that’s all about,” Thornhill said.
“Perhaps you should look at your phone,” Blunt said.
“I didn’t bring it. I’ve found it ruins good conversation.”
�
�Or it could be incited by your phone.”
“I guess it all depends on your point of view,” Thornhill said.
Blunt swiped on his phone’s screen, revealing an alert from The Washington Post app. He feigned surprise, if only for Thornhill’s benefit.
“What’s it say?” she asked.
“See,” Blunt said, shaking his phone. “This already has you interested—and I haven’t even told you what I read.”
“Okay, fine. Tell me what it says. The suspense is killing me.”
“Wikileaks just released a cache of documents detailing how Senator Gaither helped support a human trafficking ring with the help of some nefarious Air Force base commanders.”
“Are you serious?”
“I wish I weren’t,” Blunt said. “If Gaither hasn’t resigned by the end of the night, I’ll be shocked.”
“He’s still in the hospital, isn’t he?”
Blunt shrugged. “Does it matter? Seems like maybe there’s more to that attempted assassination story than we thought.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe the shooter was gunning for Captain Watkins and trying to make it appear as though Gaither was the target.”
Thornhill’s eyebrows shot upward. “That’s a serious accusation, Mr. Blunt. Or is that based off more than just conjecture?”
“I’ll let the suspense kill you slowly,” he said with a wink.
The house lights blinked, signaling the event was about to begin.
“Have you seen the president?” Thornhill asked.
Blunt shook his head. “I’ve been looking for him ever since I walked in. There was something I wanted to tell him.”
“Me, too,” she said. “But apparently we’re just guests in his box and not important enough to sit near him.”
“It does look that way, doesn’t it?”
Blunt’s phone buzzed with a message from Shields. He picked up his cell and scanned the text.
Black is headed to the Kennedy Ctr to warn the prez … his life is in danger. Can you warn him first?
Behind Enemy Lines Page 14
