by Alex Ander
Cruz never let go of Hardy’s arm, until they were out of the Situation Room and the door was closed behind them.
Chapter 6: First Lady
Special Agent Cruz pointed toward the Situation Room. “Obviously, I’ve never attended one those meetings before, but I’m pretty sure when the President wants you to leave the room…that’s not the time to voice your concerns.”
Hardy glanced at the door. She was right. He had let his emotions get the better of him. He was right to be upset over how the President’s advisors were handling the situation with Abigail; however, Hardy should have controlled his anger. He nodded at Cruz. “Thanks for getting me out of there.”
“So, what do we do now?” She held up her hands, palms up. “Do we stay here and wait for them to finish, or…”
Hardy was looking over her right shoulder, while she spoke. He spotted the President’s wife sitting in a chair in the lobby. He pointed toward her. “For starters, let’s go see how she’s doing.” He slipped past Cruz and moved into the lobby.
Leaving the open chair next to the President’s wife for Cruz, who side stepped him and sat in it, Hardy greeted the First Lady. “Mrs. Conklin, I’m sorry that this has happened to your daughter. How are you doing? Is there anything we can get you?”
Wearing a black knee-length skirt, low-heeled black pumps and a white blouse under a gray sweater, Mrs. Conklin lifted her head. Her eyes were red. Locks of her wavy shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair crossed in front of her left eye. She clutched a crumpled tissue in her right hand. With her other hand, she pushed back the distracting strands of hair. Dabbing her eyes with the tissue, she managed a thin smile. “Thank you, Aaron. I appreciate your concern, but I don’t need anything.”
Cruz laid her hand on the woman’s left forearm.
Mrs. Conklin quickly covered Cruz’s hand, patting it a couple of times. “You know, James and I were against her going on this trip by herself. Even though she’s the daughter of a President, she’s still just a teenager. And, teenagers grow up and need to express their…” the woman’s voice cracked and she touched the tissue to her eyes again before finishing her sentence, “independence.”
Cruz wrapped her right arm around Mrs. Conklin’s shoulders and the woman leaned into the FBI agent. Mrs. Conklin’s shoulders rose and fell slightly, while she wiped her eyes.
Hardy felt a lump in his throat and fought to hold back his own tears. He did not know what she was experiencing, since he did not have any children. He did know what it felt like to lose people close to him, however. He could imagine it must be ten times worse when the loved one was your child. Hardy went to one knee in front of the President’s wife. “Ma’am, I promise you I will find Abby and bring to justice those who took her.”
Mrs. Conklin straightened in her chair, hearing the determination in his words. She knew every law enforcement officer in the United States Government was doing everything in his or her power to recover her daughter. It was admirable that the agent in front of her thought he was going to be the one to accomplish the task. She cupped the left side of his face with her hand. “Thank you, Aaron. But, you shouldn’t make promises you might not be able to keep.”
Hardy removed her hand from his face and held it between his hands. He let his eyes bear down on her for a few moments before he spoke, his voice deep. “I never do, Ma’am.”
The First Lady smiled, drew him closer and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m going to hold you to that young man.”
Hardy smiled and nodded. He was going to speak, but stopped when the door to the Situation Room swung open and the Vice President, Secretary of Homeland Security and the Director of National Intelligence appeared, walking toward the trio in the lobby. Hardy cranked his head around and watched the men. He saw Secretary Gillespie, glaring and making a beeline for him. When the Secretary saw the First Lady come into view, he subtly changed his course and continued walking with the others, until they were through the lobby and out of sight. Hardy glanced at Cruz. The look on her face told him she had noticed the nonverbal exchange between the two men. Hardy let go of Mrs. Conklin’s hand and stood.
Jameson had been a step behind the three men. He approached, shifted his eyes from Cruz to Hardy and gestured that he wanted a moment with the First Lady.
As Hardy and Cruz walked away, they heard Jameson behind them. “Words cannot express my deepest apology…” Heading back toward the Situation Room, they almost bumped into the Director of the Secret Service, who was coming through the open door to the lobby. She took a quick step backward and a few of the papers she was carrying fell to the floor.
“Excuse me, Director Burroughs.” Hardy bent over and scooped up the loose papers. He stood and handed them to her.
“Thank you.” Burroughs took the papers and slipped them inside a folder.
Feeling uneasy and not knowing what to say, Hardy took a small step backward and motioned for her to pass in front of him.
Burroughs stole a quick look toward the lobby before bringing her attention back to Hardy. “Thank you for the information about the ski run, Agent Hardy. That information was either overlooked or not known. I want you to know that I’ll be following up on that with my people.”
Hardy nodded his head slightly and watched Burroughs tilt her head toward the Situation Room and continue speaking.
“About what happened in there, don’t take it personally. Secretary Gillespie—and all of us in the Secret Service—have been on edge, since Abigail was taken.”
Hardy let a puff of air slip past his lips. “Well, I don’t think I made a very good first impression on him.”
A thin smile formed on Burroughs face. “I wouldn’t worry about it. I’ve been on the receiving end of a few verbal reprimands from him. He’s a good man and doesn’t seem to hold a grudge.” She leaned closer to Hardy. “Between the two of us, you were not alone in your thoughts on the political situation. You were the only one who had the guts to say it, however.” She chuckled before adding, “Or the stupidity to say it.”
Had it not been for the gravity of the situation, Hardy would have laughed at the woman’s sense of humor. Instead, he simply pursed his lips and nodded his head in agreement.
Burroughs looked over Hardy’s shoulder and saw Jameson ending his conversation with the First Lady and walking toward the three of them. “Listen, if you get any new information, I’d appreciate a call. I’ll do the same.”
“Of course,” replied Hardy, sensing a presence next to him. He spun his head and saw Jameson.
“It was good seeing you again, Janet.” Jameson’s eyes darted the full length of her body.
She gave him a warm and friendly smile, while her eyes never strayed from his face. “Likewise; I just wish it was under better circumstances.”
Jameson agreed. A few seconds passed. No one said anything. “Well, it was good seeing you again. Take care of yourself.” When he fixed his eyes on Hardy, Jameson’s demeanor changed and his words were terse. “Hardy, Cruz, with me.” He acknowledged Burroughs, “Please excuse us, Director,” and headed for the Situation Room.
Hardy and Cruz said their ‘goodbyes’ and followed their boss. Cruz leaned closer to Hardy and whispered to him. “What was that all about?” She was referring to the way Jameson and Burroughs had interacted with each other. “Is there something going on between them?”
“I don’t know.” Hardy had seen the exchange, but, entering the Situation Room, he was more concerned with what lay ahead for him and Cruz.
Chapter 7: Make the Call
The President’s Chief of Staff was leaving the Situation Room, when Hardy and Special Agent Cruz entered. Whittaker never made eye contact with Hardy. He stared straight and walked through the doorway.
“Have you seen my wife, Phil?” The President was gathering documents from the conference table.
“She’s in the lobby, Mr. President.”
Coming around the corner of the table, the President twisted his left wrist and checked the time on
his watch. “Good. I’ll be right back.” He wagged his finger at Jameson, Hardy and Cruz. “Don’t leave the room. We need to talk.” He exited and closed the door behind him.
Jameson waited until the door was shut before turning toward Hardy.
Hardy tried to get a head start on his apology. “Sir—”
Jameson held up his hand. “This isn’t your time to talk. It’s mine.” Jameson put his left hand on his hip, while massaging the back of his neck with his right hand. “Where do I begin?” He paused a moment to collect his thoughts. “First of all, you accuse a member of the President’s cabinet of using the abduction of the President’s daughter for political gain. Second, you tell the President…the President…he needs to do something about his daughter. You don’t think he knows that?”
Hardy opened his mouth to respond.
Jameson’s right index finger shot up toward Hardy, to which Hardy shut his mouth. “Lastly, when the President says he wants you to leave the room—and very politely I might add considering how you had spoken to him—that is not the time to argue. Leave the room.” Jameson crossed his arms in front of his chest, leaned back against the edge of the conference table and crossed his ankles. He let his head fall backward. He was tired. He had worked more than nine hours and he had been on his way home, when he heard the news of Abigail’s abduction. Removing his eyeglasses, he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Thank God Cruz had the good sense to drag you away from the table before you dug yourself a deeper hole.” Putting his eyeglasses on, he addressed Cruz. “Thank you, Agent Cruz, for acting when you did.”
Cruz peeked at Hardy before nodding her head.
“Hardy, I understand you’re not a politician, but a soldier. And, as such, you’re prone to action. Playing the chess games that go on behind the scenes is not your specialty, I know. But, you’re going to have to learn how to conduct yourself during these meetings and when you interact with high-level government officials.” Jameson slipped his hands inside the pockets of his trousers. “I’ll be honest with you. When the President wanted you to come to work for him, I was against it. Your unorthodox methods in the field only served to reinforce my opinion…however…you’ve also done a tremendous amount of good for your country in the last six months. And…I’ve come to respect you, and your devotion to your country.”
Hardy interjected a ‘thank you, sir.’
“I’m not going to be able to continue running interference for you. You need to learn how Washington operates and you need to learn it, yesterday. Do you understand me?”
“I do, sir. It won’t happen again.”
Jameson stared at his agent before leaning forward and rising to his full height. “Just one more thing,” he said. “In your pursuit to become more politically savvy…and this is going to sound like I’m contradicting myself…make sure you don’t lose your passion and fiery attitude. Those characteristics, among others, are what make you…you. You must learn to control your emotions, only letting them out when they can serve you and not hurt you.”
The door to the Situation Room opened and the President walked in and closed the door.
Jameson lifted his hands in front of his chest and made a grasping motion. “Control them and don’t let them control you.” He addressed the President. “You wanted to see us, sir.”
The President grabbed the nearest chair and wheeled it to the opposite end of where he usually sits. Sitting, he invited the others to do the same. Jameson walked behind the President and sat to the left of the President, while Hardy and Cruz rolled a couple chairs closer, sitting to the President’s right.
The President started to speak to Hardy, but stopped and turned to Jameson. “I trust you’ve talked with him.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Jameson.
The President focused his attention on Hardy. “For the record, I’m the President of the United States and I cannot and will not accept insubordination from any of my agents. If you ever disrespect me that way again, there will be consequences. Is that clear?”
“I understand, sir.”
The President nodded his head and let the smallest smile cross his lips. “Off the record, I wish I were twenty years younger and had your attitude and spirit to be able to say to some of my cabinet members what you said to them. They’re members of my cabinet, however, and I must respect them, just as I demand their respect.” He leaned back in his chair. “Is there anything you’d like to say before we begin?”
“I do have something to say, sir.”
Jameson bristled.
Cruz whirled her head toward Hardy. After all that’s happened, you’re going to say more.
“Forgive me for not asking this sooner. How are you doing, personally, sir? I’m sure this has put a terrible strain on you.”
Jameson’s body relaxed and Cruz let out the breath of air she had been holding.
The President smiled, inwardly. Since this ordeal had started, no one had inquired about his well-being. The first person to do so was one who had been reprimanded by him and Director Jameson. I never do, Ma’am, were the words that came into the President’s mind. His wife had just told him Hardy’s response to the First Lady telling Hardy he ‘shouldn’t make promises he might not be able to keep.’ The President liked and respected Hardy. “To be honest, I haven’t really had time to process it. I’ve been too busy wearing my ‘presidential’ hat.” He paused. “I’m sure it will hit me when I get some quiet time and see things through the lens of being a father. Thank you for asking.”
The President leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. “Now, on to the reason I wanted to see you. Do you really think your idea will work?” He was referring to Hardy’s proposal during the meeting.
Hardy was direct. “All I’ll need is fifteen minutes, sir.”
“What about the Russians? Do you think they’ll play ball?”
“I’ve built a good working relationship with one of their top agents. I think she’ll be able to convince the Premier to go along.”
The President placed his elbows on the table, touched his fingertips together and stared, contemplating Hardy’s plan. A half a minute later, he shifted his gaze toward Hardy. “Make the call.” He pointed toward the opposite end of the table. “Use the secure phone down there.” He regarded Jameson. “Phil, I want you to coordinate the details of the transfer. Don’t give more information than necessary. I don’t want anyone putting the pieces together.”
“Understood, sir,” said Jameson.
The President glimpsed Cruz before his eyes settled on Jameson. “This conversation goes no further than this room…in fact, this conversation never happened. Are we good?”
Both Jameson and Cruz indicated their agreement and all talking ceased, when they heard Hardy speak.
“Natasha, it’s Hardy.”
“Hey, Hardy,” said Natasha Volkov. “It’s good to hear from you—Merry Christmas.”
“I have to skip the formalities, Natasha. I’ve got a situation here and I need a favor.”
“I certainly owe you a few of those after all you’ve done for me and my country.” Natasha, an agent of the Federal Security Service of the Russian Federation (FSB), worked with Hardy on two occasions; the most recent coming at the end of November. The two of them had gotten to know each other well. Hardy had saved her life twice during the July mission in Moscow. “What’s the favor?”
Chapter 8: Escape
9:56 p.m. (Mountain Time)
“Are you sure this is a good idea? What if they walk in and catch you? These people kidnapped you…the President’s daughter. I think they’re serious.”
Abigail broke away from her task. “Where was that attitude back on the mountain when you got the bright idea to ski into the restricted area?” She focused her attention on the handcuffs. She had inserted a thin piece of metal into the keyhole and was fiddling with the locking mechanism.
An hour ago, Abigail slowly regained consciousness with Layla beside her, already a
wake. The sparse light shining through the small window on the door across the room allowed Abigail and Layla to see the immediate area. They were being kept in a storage room and were surrounded by cardboard boxes and a couple wooden crates. The room was cool and smelled musty. Items were scattered on the floor; some were sticking out of the boxes. They appeared to be very old. The girls were lying on a narrow bed in the corner. The bed was barely wide enough for both of them to lie on it, if they were side by side. A pair of handcuffs with a long chain was attached to the headboard of the bed, intertwined among the vertical slats. Abigail’s right hand and Layla’s left hand were secured in the handcuffs. Each girl was wearing a long-sleeved sweater dress that came down to her knees. A long pair of heavy boot socks, the only other article of clothing they wore, rose above their knees. Abigail had felt around the bed frame and found the piece of thin metal. One end had separated and she had bent the metal back and forth, until it broke free. For the past fifteen minutes, she had been trying to unlock the handcuffs.
“This is a little different, Abby.” Layla eyed the door window “You can’t compare kidnappers to getting in trouble with your dad.” She glanced at the door again. “What if these people just want money? Your dad is the President. He can give them as much as they want. Once they get the money, they’ll let us go.”
Maintaining her focus on the job, she shook her head. “Are you willing to take the chance these people are honorable? They might take the money and kill us.” Abigail adjusted her body on the bed, trying to get a better angle on the handcuff attached to her wrist. She stuck her left forefinger into her mouth and sucked on it. Having cut her finger while breaking off the piece of metal, she had been bleeding on her clothes and the bedding. She did not care about either of those things. Sucking on her finger to stop the bleeding was a force of habit. She inserted the metal into the handcuff. “Now, stop moving around. I almost had it before you jerked on the chain.”
