Quinn could feel a chill run up his arms. The police sketch, he thought. It was a question he wasn’t used to, so it caught him off guard.
“He’s an actor,” Orlando said. “Does a lot of commercials.”
“I’ve done a couple movies, too,” Quinn added, trying to sound appropriately defensive.
“But no one’s seen those,” she said. Then, to the officer, she added, “Straight to DVD.”
“No wonder you’re not my publicist,” Quinn said.
“That must be it,” the officer said. He took a step back. “I’m going to need to take a look in your trunk. Do you mind popping it for me?”
“No problem,” Nate said.
There was a dull thunk as Nate released the trunk. The officer walked around back and pushed it all the way open.
“Anything in there we need to worry about?” Quinn whispered through unmoving lips.
“Just the body of the owner,” Nate said.
“Funny,” Quinn shot back.
“I checked before I picked you guys up,” Nate said. “Standard stuff.”
A few seconds later, the officer closed the trunk and returned to the driver’s side window. “All right. You all have a good day,” he said.
“We’re so glad you made it, Mr. Lee,” Sylvia Stanton, principal of the R. J. Oliver School, said. “Doris in Santa Maria had a child who had a meltdown this morning, so they had to cancel. Since you were coming from so far, I was afraid you’d have the same problem.”
“We’re glad we’re here, too,” Tucker said.
Ms. Stanton was under the impression that Tucker was Harold Lee, director of a school several hours south in Ventura. The real Mr. Lee was indeed supposed to be transporting a group of children to the event, but his bus had been stopped not long after leaving Ventura by the squad of Tucker’s men that had split off and gone south in the dark hours of the morning. Mr. Lee would be thankful later, Tucker knew. At least he and his children would still be alive, as long as no one did anything stupid.
Tucker’s biggest concern had been the security check at the school. Mr. Rose’s tests at the Yellowhammer lab had shown the explosives’ delivery systems would pass through the government’s detectors without a problem, appearing to be exactly what they looked like: dozens of individual juice boxes. But passing tests in a lab wasn’t the same as carrying the containers through the actual screening machines. And all Tucker could think about as they went through the Secret Service check was the fact that for the first month those same tests Mr. Rose performed had all failed.
But they had passed through without a problem, and soon Tucker and his remaining men had their cargo—the children and the explosives—settled in the school’s cafeteria. That was when Ms. Stanton had offered to give him a tour of the facility.
“If it’s not too much trouble, I’d be honored,” he’d said.
There were classrooms, an indoor gym, the administration office, an outside play area, and even a swimming pool.
“Only three and a half feet at the deepest,” she’d told him.
But it wasn’t the pool or any of the rest of the school that interested him. It was the Secret Service members stationed throughout. Since he’d already passed through the security check and was on the inside, their focus was on other things besides him.
“My God, do you have to feed them all?” Tucker said as they walked out of the auditorium where the assembly would be taking place. Just under a dozen agents had been stationed around the room.
“I know what you mean,” Ms. Stanton half-whispered. “I’m told there are twenty others in the building alone, and more outside that I can’t see.”
Securing a perimeter that’s already been breached, Tucker thought. He had to force himself not to smile. “How long have they been here?”
“The advance team arrived on Monday. But they moved in en masse around six a.m. this morning. And let me tell you, they searched everywhere.”
“Hey, did they have any of those dogs?” he asked. “You know what I mean? The ones that sniff out drugs and explosives and those kinds of things? The kids would love to see that.”
“No dogs that I saw,” she said. “They did have electronic devices with them when they were searching the building. Perhaps those might do the same thing.”
Not only might, Tucker thought, but did. He said, “I don’t know. I guess.”
While they were standing in the lobby outside the auditorium, Petersen entered from the hallway back to the cafeteria on cue. In his arms was the trigger.
Tucker smiled as if pleasantly surprised. “Eric, could you come here for a moment?”
Petersen walked over.
“Ms. Stanton, I’d like you to meet one of my teachers. This is Eric Jones,” he said, using Petersen’s temporary alias. “Eric, this is Principal Stanton. She’s in charge here.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” Petersen said.
“Good to meet you, too,” Ms. Stanton said.
“Sorry, I’d shake your hand, but I’m a little tied up.”
“I can see that,” Ms. Stanton said, smiling at Iris. “She’s beautiful.”
Tucker could tell she meant it. He reached out and took the girl— the trigger—from Petersen. “This is Iris.”
Iris’s lower lip quivered. She leaned away from Tucker as he took hold of her, like she was weighing the merits of falling to the floor versus staying in his arms.
“Would you like to hold her?” Tucker said.
Ms. Stanton smiled. “Of course.”
Iris must have sensed the woman’s kindness, for she hugged Ms. Stanton tightly, laying her head on the woman’s shoulder.
“Hello, Iris,” Ms. Stanton said. “You are just so pretty.” She looked at Tucker. “Is she verbal?”
“Unfortunately, no,” he said. “She’ll make several sounds, but no words yet.”
“That’ll come, that’ll come,” Ms. Stanton said.
He let the two bond for a few moments longer, then said, “If I understand correctly, when the First Lady and her guests arrive out front, we’re each allowed to have a child with us.” He had only learned this after he arrived. He had planned on keeping the girl in the auditorium with the others, just safely out of the detonation range. This, though, would be so much better. He could always revert to the original plan if his idea was shot.
“Yes, that’s correct,” Ms. Stanton said.
Tucker smiled again. “Iris is the one who will be out front with us.”
“Excellent.” Ms. Stanton kissed Iris on the cheek. “We’ll just have to be careful none of the ladies try to take her home with them.”
Tucker grinned. The last piece of the plan was in place.
CHAPTER
40
THEY LEFT THE CAR ON MAIN STREET, THEN WALKED into the residential neighborhood northeast of the business district. It was already ten minutes after nine, the checkpoint having eaten up more time than they could afford.
“You going to tell us that plan yet?” Nate asked.
“Not yet,” Quinn said.
“You don’t have a plan, do you?”
Before he could reply, Orlando said, “Not a good one.”
Quinn frowned at her, knowing she had a pretty good idea of what he had in mind. “I’m open to other suggestions,” he said.
“Yeah. I know.”
“You guys are giving me a lot of confidence right now,” Nate said.
“It’ll be fine,” Quinn said.
The closer they got to the school, the more cars they found parked on the street. There were a lot of people, too. Most walking up the hill in the same direction they were. The curious out to see political royalty, something that had never occurred in this part of the country. Quinn, Orlando, and Nate blended in, becoming just three more members of the crowd.
The school was located just off Ridgeway Street on Owens Avenue. It backed against a small wilderness area that separated it from the Morro Bay Golf Course. Quinn wished they had time to
sneak in from the rear, but he knew they didn’t. In less than fifteen minutes, the limos would begin to arrive. And once that happened, there’d be carnage.
As far as two blocks away, people were taking up positions along the street, trying to get the best view they could. Sheriffs deputies and policemen were spread out along the road, keeping people on the sidewalk as much as possible.
Quinn took the lead, weaving through the crowd to get them as close as possible to the school. They made it to within thirty yards before the growing crowd forced them to stop.
They could see the school building now. It was older, low-slung, and very 1960s. It had a parking lot in front that was empty with the exception of two black Suburbans. Secret Service, no doubt. The crowd had been allowed to within ten feet of the lot’s entrance, but had been stopped from going any farther by several police officers.
“I count at least half a dozen Feds in the lot,” Orlando whispered in Quinn’s ear.
He nodded, then looked at his watch. “Goddammit,” he said. Eight minutes until the scheduled arrival.
Reluctantly he pulled his backpack off his shoulders and handed it to Nate.
“What are you doing?” Nate asked.
“Not now,” Quinn said.
“You’ll need me,” Orlando said. “At least to get started.”
Quinn nodded.
“Is there something I should know about?” Nate asked.
Quinn pulled him close so he could whisper in his ear. “Stay here. If we’re not successful, do what you can to help with the aftermath. Otherwise we’ll contact you.”
“Where are you going?”
“Where do you think we’re going?” Quinn asked. “To stop this.”
“And you don’t need me?”
“At the moment, no. There’s just no sense in all three of us going down.”
Nate’s brow furrowed, but he only said, “Okay. We’ll meet up after.” Quinn hoped Nate was right.
“We’re all set,” Tucker said into his phone. He was standing in the lobby with a few of the other attendants and the handful of children who had been selected to greet the targets out front when they arrived. The rest of the children, and, most important, the delivery devices, had been moved into the auditorium to await the arrival of the guests.
“The trigger?” Mr. Rose asked.
Tucker glanced at Petersen. He was a few feet away with Iris in his arms. “In place, ready to go.”
“Good.”
Tucker wasn’t sure where Mr. Rose was. After the helicopters landed, the old man had taken one of the waiting vehicles for himself and disappeared, leaving the execution of the plan in Tucker’s hands.
“What about the schedule?” Mr. Rose said.
“We’ve been told everything is running on time.”
At that moment, Ms. Stanton entered the lobby from the auditorium, looking both nervous and excited. Tucker smiled at her and gave her a nod. She smiled back and started walking toward him.
Into the phone he said, “The transfers?”
“Once the job is complete, you will get the rest of your money. Just like we discussed.”
“Fine,” Tucker said. “Gotta go. We’re getting close.”
“Don’t disappoint me,” Mr. Rose said.
Tucker disconnected the call just as Ms. Stanton reached him.
“I’m told there might be a few minutes’ delay at most,” she said.
“I would have expected more,” Tucker said, his tone light. “These things never come off on time.”
She put her hand near her mouth like she was about to tell him a secret. “I think it helps that we’re one of the first things on their agenda for today.”
“I think you’re probably right.”
They both laughed at the non-joke.
“So is Iris ready?” Ms. Stanton asked as she looked over at the girl.
“She’ll be plenty ready when they arrive.”
“Of course she will be.” Another smile, then, “I need to check on the others. So just hold your position until you’re given the word to go outside.”
“It’s the moment we’ve been waiting for,” Tucker assured her.
The crowd parted with reluctance as Quinn and Orlando elbowed their way to the front. When there was only one row between them and the loose line of cops holding everyone back, Quinn leaned down and whispered in Orlando’s ear, “Five seconds. That’s all I’ll need.”
She turned and kissed him on the cheek. “I love you,” she said.
Quinn moved into position, going to the right against the stone half-wall that lined the parking lot. Once he was there, he looked back and gave Orlando a quick nod.
She waited a moment, then turned sideways and began trying to squeeze around the woman who was in front of her.
“Hey, watch it,” the lady said. “I’ve been waiting here for hours, so back off.”
Orlando ignored her, and continued to push until she’d worked her way to the front.
“I said I was here first,” the woman said. “Move back.”
“You move back,” Orlando said.
“Officer,” the woman said, her voice rising. “She pushed me out of my place.”
The officer nearest them looked over. “There’s plenty of room for everyone, ma’am,” he said.
“Yeah,” Orlando said. “So just shut up and chill.”
“She’s been there all morning,” a man who was probably the woman’s husband or boyfriend said. “Now move back.”
“I’m here now, so I think I’ll stay. Thanks.”
“I don’t know who the hell you think you are,” the woman said. She was almost yelling now. “But that’s my spot and you’re going to move.”
“Everyone calm down, all right?” the officer said.
“I’m not going anywhere, bitch,” Orlando said.
The woman gaped at her.
“You do not call my wife ‘bitch.’” Husband, then. Not boyfriend. He moved in close, doing the male intimidation thing.
“What are you going to do? Hit me?” Orlando said, then laughed.
“Hey,” the officer said. “Everyone, calm down.”
But the crowd in the immediate area was already craning their necks to see what was going on, then repeating what they’d heard to the others around them.
“I’m calm,” Orlando said. “Tell her to calm the hell down.”
“Officer, I haven’t done anything wrong. This … woman tried to—”
“I didn’t try to do anything.”
Quinn saw what he’d been waiting for. The officers on either side of the one who was trying unsuccessfully to control the situation had started to look over to see what was going on.
“Lady, you’d better leave before something bad happens,” the husband said.
“Did you hear that?” Orlando said. “He threatened me. Hey, did you hear that? I can press charges for that, you know.”
That did it. All three of them began yelling over the top of one another.
Quinn watched the cop nearest him, the last before the wall. He was looking toward Orlando and the others, leaning ever so slightly in their direction. Then, as the yelling became even more intense, he turned to the people in front of him and said, “Stay here.”
The moment he stepped away to help calm the crowd, Quinn moved to the front.
“He told us to stay here,” someone said.
“I’m with the press,” Quinn said, knowing that would stop them for a few moments.
He made it all the way to the end of the half-wall, and was just turning into the parking lot entrance when a voice shouted behind him, “Hey! Stop!”
He raised his hands in the air, but he kept going.
“Stop or I’ll shoot!”
But Quinn knew that wasn’t true. Just beyond him several kids had been moved out of one of the buildings onto the sidewalk at the other side of the parking lot. Any shot would have had a very good chance of hitting them.
Not only the k
ids, though. There were a dozen Secret Service agents also in the line of fire. Most of them were now drawing their own weapons and heading in Quinn’s direction.
“Sir, you need to stop right where you are.” This time it was one of the agents who spoke.
“It’s time,” Ms. Stanton said.
Tucker took a deep breath, then removed the electronic activator from his pocket. It had been built into the handset of his cell phone so it would pass unnoticed.
“You’re sure we’re far enough away?” Petersen asked, glancing back toward the auditorium where the explosive devices were waiting.
“Plenty,” Tucker said.
Petersen turned Iris so that her leg was accessible.
“Naaaa,” Iris said, actually scowling at Tucker.
“Just hold still,” he told her.
“Naaaa.”
He touched the series of buttons that engaged the activator. On the display screen a simple bar graph appeared. It was yellow and hovered near the bottom of the screen, but the closer it got to the triggering device embedded in Iris’s leg, the higher the bar rose.
Iris tried to push his hand away.
“Naaaa!” she yelled.
Tucker glanced up and saw that Ms. Stanton was looking in his direction.
“Just a little tired,” he said. “After the drive and everything.”
“Maybe she should wait inside with the others,” Ms. Stanton said.
“She’ll be fine,” Tucker assured her. “I have a juice here for her. That should calm her down.”
Ms. Stanton didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push any further.
“Hold this,” Tucker said to Petersen. He handed him the device. “Just don’t touch any of the buttons.”
Petersen shifted Iris so that he was holding her with only one arm, then took the activator from Tucker. Tucker reached into his pocket and pulled out a juice packet that looked exactly like its more deadly cousins inside, only it was the real thing. He’d grabbed it for just such an emergency. He freed the straw, stuck it in the hole, then held the whole thing out to Iris.
She looked at it, at first acting like she didn’t want it.
Shadow of Betrayal Page 36
