by David Pepper
Then a cylinder pressed hard against her right temple. It was cold, meaning the gun hadn’t fired; the blast must’ve been the sound of the gun shattering the window.
“Do not move or I pull the trigger,” a gruff voice said in a foreign accent.
Quivering, she took a deep breath, relieved to be alive.
* * *
• • •
Strapped tightly to the back seat of the SUV, Tori could see trickles of blood accumulating on the white towel curled around the back of her neck and over her shoulders. The flying glass had clearly inflicted dozens of small lacerations. But it was the jagged shards from when the driver had pulled her against the broken window that had done much deeper damage. While she could make out the precise sting of the largest cuts, the collective effect was worse: the back of her head, neck, shoulders, and upper back felt like they were on fire.
The rapid drumbeat of her heart pounded in her ears as sharp, raspy breaths pumped out from her lungs.
Her eyes teared up, blurring her vision.
She thought of the picture of Ned a few weeks back. Tied up in the back seat. Bleeding. Terrorized. She imagined she looked the same.
The tall buildings of downtown Cleveland towered in front of them. Like Ned, she was running out of time.
She closed her eyes.
Focus.
Jack had remained calm at even the worst moments. What was it he’d said? “Make it hard for them.” She needed to do that now. As scared as she was, she had to look strong.
She took a hard swallow to steady her breaths, then turned to her left.
“What are you doing?” Tori asked, narrowing her eyes to bring the woman next to her into focus.
“Excuse me?”
The way her legs were stretched out under the driver’s seat, she looked to be about Tori’s height, a rarity. Still, on a rugby field, she’d be an easy takedown. Too skinny, little muscle.
“You’re Katrina, right?” Tori asked, muzzling her fear with a frigid tone.
“Yes,” she said, facing her for the first time.
Katrina’s striking appearance threw Tori off. Emerald eyes. Long, glossy brown hair. A thin, pretty nose. Her eyes were puffy, and dark eye shadow traced down the sides of her cheek; she’d been crying. The gleam from the mild welling made them even more arresting.
Tori fixed on the damp eyes. Something had upset this cold-blooded killer.
Then Tori remembered Cassie and Jack’s conversation as they’d raced to Cleveland. Katrina’s parents had been murdered. She’d been lied to by her uncle. Cassie had just messaged her the truth.
“Katrina,” she said, “what are you doing?”
Katrina’s wavy hair bobbed as the car bounced through a few potholes before stopping at a red light, their third in the last five minutes. They were entering downtown.
“Making you disappear.”
Goose bumps rose along Tori’s long arms. She quickly flexed to subdue them.
“Oh, I assumed that. But what are you doing beyond that?” Her voice cracked slightly, so she took a deep breath to shore it up. “We know all about your uncle, and your parents, and the lies you’ve been told since they were murdered. I’d be devastated, too. But doing more harm, piling up more bodies, won’t fix any of that. And stealing elections won’t fix it, either.”
Katrina shuddered, her cheeks turning red.
“Don’t you dare.” She looked right at Tori. “You don’t know me or what I’ve been through. And you don’t understand what I’m doing now. I’m trying to make the world better.”
“By killing and torturing people?”
“No one knows better than your father. So many people have had no chance at success because of the larger forces at work in this country. Our plan will—”
“You cut my dad’s ear off! You almost killed him. Others have been murdered in cold blood. Look at my neck and all this blood. If your uncle has convinced you that all that violence is making the world better, he lied to you. Again.”
Katrina ground her jaw, her temples flaring. They stopped at another light, seconds of silence passing.
“I have bad news for you,” Tori said, piling on. “The story’s getting out. Too many people already know about your plan. Newspapers. TV stations. It’s over.”
Katrina smirked as the Mercedes veered right, cutting through a cavern of skyscrapers toward the lake.
“Which is why it was so helpful that you offered yourself up to us. I don’t plan on killing you right away. But we’ll hold you long enough to keep your friend from running his story.”
Tori shook her head. Her neck was numb now, while the tension in her muscles had eased. She was gaining confidence as Katrina appeared less certain of herself.
“My friend?” Tori asked.
“Yes. The reporter who’s been helping you.”
“Oh.” As scared as she was, she forced out a chuckle. “He’s the least of your worries. It’s gone way beyond him. The message you got? That’s another reporter. She also knows who you are, who your uncle is, and the whole plan, including how you got into the parties. Her station’s one of those big monopolies you’re so concerned about—and they know running the story crushes your plan and protects their business. They wouldn’t even know my name and could care less what my friend thinks. They’ll be running the story no matter what and no matter what you do to me.”
Katrina shifted in her seat, doubt creeping across her face.
It was working. Tori drew another deep breath, slowing her whirring mind so she could remember the states where early voting was under way. The more details she piled on, the more credible her case.
“Ohio, Michigan, Wisconsin, Florida. They know exactly where it’s happening, and exactly how you’re meddling: targeting the sporadic voters, mislabeling the undecideds, eliminating some from the file completely. They know all of it, and nothing you do to me will change that.”
Katrina said nothing, facing forward again.
“It’s over.”
CHAPTER 127
CLEVELAND
She came out of the fancy terminal down there,” Billy Luna said, one hand pointing, the other on the wheel. “Number four.”
“Let’s get there quick.” After having sent a number of texts, Tori had gone dark. Not a good sign. But from a distance, no planes had taken off. This was going to be close.
We’d wasted ten minutes searching for where she’d turned off, then hit every other red light on the drive downtown. Now we were racing along a long two-lane road squeezed between the highway and the lake. We sped by an old submarine, then past the small public airport terminal. Billy cornered quickly into the next driveway after that, for terminal four.
“Shit,” he yelled out, slamming on the brakes, plunging my chest and shoulders violently into my seat belt. We stopped inches short of a tall metal gate blocking the driveway,
Billy reversed quickly to come within a foot of a small box with a speaker. There was a keypad as well as a large black button, but no instructions. Billy lowered his window and pushed the button.
A high-pitched man’s voice came through the speaker. “May I help you?”
I leaned toward Billy’s open window and hollered. “I’m with Windsor Castle LLC. We need to get to our Gulfstream right away. G-M1M. My boss, Katrina Rivers, left something back at the office, and she needs it before taking off.”
Enough detail to convince them I was legit.
“Nice equipment.” He giggled. “Both the plane and your boss. What’d you say the company was called?”
“Windsor Castle LLC. And we need to drive right to the plane.”
Seconds passed.
A loud click was followed by the clanging of a chain as the fence rolled to the right.
Billy floored it, and a gate fifty yards in front of us rolled open
as well. We hit the second entrance at twenty-five miles per hour.
Billy guffawed in celebration. “I can’t believe they’re letting us go right to—”
It started out as a low buzz, then grew loud, quickly, becoming a deep and violent roar—the unmistakable sound of a jet engine taking off. The intensity of it shook the car as we cleared the second gate and drove onto the edge of the tarmac, an array of prop planes and jets in front of us.
The gray Gulfstream shot above the private terminal’s tall hangar, screaming from right to left at a steep angle. Despite its speed, the number on its tail was easy to read: G-M1M.
The roar faded as the plane banked right and ascended over the lake, two gray contrails spiraling behind.
“Shit,” I mumbled, watching it disappear. If Tori was alive at all, she was undoubtedly inside.
“I’m sorry, Jack.”
We sat in silence. As Billy turned the car around, I rang Tori, only to get voice mail. I sent her several texts.
No response.
I swallowed hard to stifle the nausea rising from my stomach up into my throat. Although I faced forward, the terminal building and the lake and the sky all blurred, replaced by a sharper image of Tori’s blue eyes stunning me into silence in the booth back at Bad Apples.
“Hey, there’s the car.” Billy pointed to a row of cars in front of the hangar, a sleek black Mercedes SUV on the far left. He drove over and parked behind it.
A sticker on the rear windshield indicated it was some kind of elite rental service. The car was unlocked, its keys lying in the driver’s seat, so we were able to inspect both the inside and outside. The seats were bare, and the floorboards and black leather upholstery initially appeared spotless, although indentations on both ends of the back seat made it clear both Katrina and Tori had been sitting back there.
Searching the front seat, Billy yelped.
“Shit! There’s blood on the steering wheel.”
He flipped his right hand in the air, a thin coat of red fluid on his second and third fingers.
“Just a little?” My lip quivered as I forced a smile. “This girl wouldn’t go down without a fight.”
But his find led me to examine the back seat more closely. And that’s when I spotted them, initially masked by the dark leather. Speckles of blood were spattered across the top of the right side of the seat. Some tiny splotches, but some bigger drops, too.
Right where Tori’s neck would have been.
CHAPTER 128
CLEVELAND
Jack, it happened again.”
Cassie called as we were crossing and recrossing side streets halfway back to the Clinic, searching for my car. There were only a few places they could have nabbed her without being spotted.
“What happened?” I asked, staying mum on the drama we’d been through.
“They’re censoring me. It’s clearly coming from Corporate. Bridget Turner and Massa aren’t even comfortable with it.”
“But why would they cut your Aspen story? It’s the president’s scandal.”
“Oh, they’re running it all right. They’re gonna make a huge deal out of it. The corporate lobbying. The meeting of foreign governments. And the big donors.”
“There you go.”
“But they refuse to mention the meeting with the professor or the Russian.”
I shook my head, smirking. “Let me guess: too much monopoly talk?”
“They didn’t say that, but of course.”
“Awful.”
“I feel sick about it. What should I do?”
I stewed, reliving my turbulent journey since July Fourth.
“I know it’s frustrating, but it’s a hell of a story either way. Just go with what they’ll run. I’ve got the monopoly story covered. It’ll get it out.”
My phone buzzed with another call. The Vindicator line. I put Cassie on hold and bounced over.
“Jack, it’s Mary.”
“I’m on another call, Mary. Can I call you ba—”
“Jack, I got a call from Cleveland police. It’s about that girl Tori you were working with.”
* * *
• • •
With an empty Cleveland Browns stadium looming to our right and a long blue warehouse on our left, we sped to the end of the pier, then veered left. Two black-and-white squad cars and an all-black SUV, lights flashing, awaited us at the pier’s other corner.
Once Billy stopped the car, I jumped out and sprinted to a burly cop with a crew cut standing in front of the SUV.
“Where is she, Officer?”
“A driver found her tied up inside that door over th—”
“Where is she?”
“Hey, buddy, chill, will ya? She’s right over here.”
He ushered me to the back of the SUV. As we got close, the back passenger’s right door burst open.
“Jack!” Tori leapt up from the back seat, throwing her arms around me in a tight hug, her sinewy bicepses and forearms bracing my neck and back. As firm as her grip was, her entire body was shaking.
“Thank God you’re alive. And not on that plane.”
“You’re telling me. And that’s where I was headed until the last second.”
She loosened her embrace.
“How’d you get them to let you go?”
She took a small step back, smiling as her misted blue eyes beamed.
“I told her Republic was a heartless, horrible place and could care less if either you or I were dead or alive. They’d run the story regardless.”
I chuckled. “You never change, do you?”
Her eyes seemed to ask a question.
“From the moment we first met, you’ve done nothing but tell the absolute, unvarnished, and entire truth. That’s the only reason we’re about to save this election. And it just saved your life.”
CHAPTER 129
WASHINGTON, D.C.
It’s been too long, Jack. I’m sorry about what happened with Republic.”
I sat up straight in the ornate chair, shoulders back, chest out.
“Thank you, Madam President. I prefer newspapers anyway.”
“Me, too. Although I hate seeing them all get bought up and downsized by those corporate raiders.”
She knew me too well.
“Trust me, I feel the same way.”
Days after Cleveland, Cassie and I were seated in the White House’s Vermeil Room, in the same chairs where she’d taped her interview a month ago. We’d briefed the presidential press shop on our stories, and they’d agreed to have the president do a joint interview on background.
She looked over at Cassie, who was as gussied up as I’d ever seen. “Boy, your producers did a number on our last chat, didn’t they.”
“I’m sorry about that. It wasn’t fair to you.”
“Or you.”
Cassie flashed a half smile. This president still knew how to charm.
For most of our hour, I pushed hard. But, as always, she had an answer for everything, including Kazarov.
“Whenever I met with Professor Mercurio about his research, his benefactor was there. I found it odd as well. At times uncomfortable. But the purpose of the meetings was always to talk about the professor’s ideas. I’ve been very enthusiastic about his work, as you both know better than anyone.”
I leaned forward. “Did it not strike you as inappropriate to have a Russian oligarch in your meetings?”
She clasped her hands. “The man was funding important research at Princeton. He had never given me a penny. He never asked for anything, and I never asked him for anything. He just listened and posed questions along the way.”
My polite smile wavered. A couple years back, the Russian mogul had told me his modus operandi was to collect dirt on everyone, then use it to get what he wanted. So the president li
kely had had no choice but to meet with him. But the career prosecutor had carefully choreographed their meetings so she could account for them later. And with Kazarov now dead, there was no way to prove this or the true nature of their conversations.
As if reading my mind, the president lowered her eyes and sighed. “I just learned that he succumbed to the cancer he had fought so valiantly. I can only hope that someone else will step in to support the professor’s important research.”
I pulled us back on topic. “Madam President, did Mr. Kazarov ever imply that Congress would change hands so you could enact your reforms?”
She chose her words carefully.
“He was an optimist. He often asked hypothetical questions based on that assumption. I’m more of a realist—less hopeful that I’ll have an opportunity to enact those policies. But I answered his hypotheticals nonetheless.”
Tracks covered yet again.
After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, she leaned forward, narrowing her turquoise eyes.
“Jack, you do know I’m correct on the policy, right? If we don’t do something about the monopolies eating away at our economy, we won’t only stifle our economy, we may lose our democracy.”
It was a jarring pivot, as if she were asking for my help.
I chuckled nervously, raising both hands. “You don’t have to convince me. I got fired trying to explain your plan to Republic’s viewers.”
Her left eyebrow arched as she grinned. “See? That proves my point perfectly.”
“But that also makes clear that the big boys aren’t ever going to let you make your case, let alone enact your ideas.”
She stiffened.
“They’ll keep trying to stop me—”
She paused, her right eyelid fluttering.
“—but politics is a crazy game. You never know what’s going to happen.”
An awkward silence followed as I studied her face. Had I just seen a harmless blink or a loaded wink?
She turned to Cassie. “Now, I understand you have questions about my little getaway in the mountains.”
