Hired to Kill (The Nathan McBride Series Book 7)

by Andrew Peterson

  Nathan said, “It’s really great being here, Holly, even under the circumstances.”

  “I wish I could take tomorrow off to spend time with you guys. Actually, Ethan said I could, but I’m not comfortable being away from my desk right now.”

  “Hey, don’t worry about it,” Nathan said. “It would be really bad form. I’d never let you do it. The FBI’s chief of staff doesn’t take the day off after a US senator is assassinated. It’s—” He cut himself off, feeling another wave of emotion.

  They stopped walking, and Holly hugged him again. As before, the world lost focus, and the ache in his soul didn’t feel as deep.

  “I’m so sorry about all of this. How’s your mom doing?”

  “Not well, but it’s a good thing she has Lauren to look after. I need to call her again. She’s camped out in Lauren’s room. If it’s okay, we’d like to head over there right away, but I want to make sure Lauren’s feeling up to it first.”

  “No problem. She’s at George Washington University Hospital. It’s been quiet the rest of the day. There haven’t been any more attacks. Speculation is rampant on the news networks. Truth is, we don’t have much right now. We haven’t been able to ID the gunmen in either shooting. Unfortunately, the wounded gunman from the back alley bled out before the paramedics arrived.”

  “Jin?”

  “We think she shot him in both shoulders and took out a knee so he couldn’t get away or cause any harm. No other explanation seems to fit. The ballistics and shell-casing analysis will confirm our theory.”

  He nodded but didn’t say anything. He’d reached mental burnout. All he wanted to do was hold her a little longer.

  “Sorry, Nathan.”

  “It’s okay. Just don’t let go.”

  “Hey, listen, you guys, I can easily get a cab over to the Willard.”

  “Harv . . .” His tone said it all.

  “Okay, sorry I mentioned it.”

  “We don’t usually hug each other like this, but maybe we ought to.”

  Holly nodded into his shoulder; she must have needed it as much as he did.

  They let go and walked across a small parking lot to a Lincoln sedan.

  This wasn’t her car. She drove a white Ford Explorer. “Don’t tell me you came straight from the office.”

  “Okay, I won’t tell you.”

  “That’s what, a fourteen-hour day?”

  “We’re going full speed on the investigation. We need to ID the shooters. Everything hinges on it.”

  “Remember when we talked about burnout the first time we met?”

  “It’s hard to forget. You said I’d break down into tears without any good reason, but this isn’t one of those times.”

  Harv let Nathan take the front passenger seat by getting into the back without asking. He was four inches taller than his friend.

  “Any leads you can share?”

  “Based only on their physical appearance, we’re certain all six of them are of Middle Eastern descent.”

  “There were six gunmen?” Harv asked.

  “That we know of. Two in San Diego and four in Mabel’s.”

  Her phone bleeped to life.

  “You should take a look,” Nathan said. “I think under the circumstances, it’s okay.”

  “Thanks . . . It’s Ethan. I need to take it.”

  Director Lansing was a major figure in Washington, having kept his job through the change in administrations, a rare achievement.

  “Hi, Ethan . . . Yes, they’re with me right now . . . Okay . . . When? . . . We’ll be there as fast as we can . . . Okay . . . I won’t . . .” She ended the call and said, “Your sister just made contact.”

  CHAPTER 19

  “That’s good news,” Nathan said. “As opposed to not knowing if she’s alive or dead.”

  “I don’t have anything more than that. DNI Benson called Ethan with the news. He knows I’m picking you up.”

  “Benson knows you’re picking us up or Ethan?”

  “Probably both. We’ll need to delay your visit with Lauren.”

  She hadn’t posed it as a question.

  “Where are we going?” Nathan asked.

  “The White House.”

  “The White House . . .”

  She looked over her shoulder and accelerated into traffic. “We aren’t going inside. The DNI’s wrapping up a meeting with the president on the two shootings. We’re meeting him outside the West Wing’s entrance.”

  “You mean Benson?”

  “Sorry, yes. We’ll have to go through security. You guys don’t have any of those, you know, Crocodile Dundee knives on you, do you?”

  Harv said, “We left them in the car in San Diego—just in case we got summoned to the White House.”

  “If I’d known about this, I would’ve told you. Is there anything in your luggage?”

  “Nope,” said Nathan. “Just the normal stuff.”

  “Why do we need to meet with Benson?” Harv asked.

  “Apparently your sister’s refusing to cooperate until she talks to you first.”

  “Sounds like Jin, all right.” He hadn’t said it kindly.

  “You okay?”

  “Truthfully, I’m a little ticked off she didn’t make contact sooner. I’m not going to tell Lauren about this until I have a green light from Jin. It’s her decision when to tell Lauren, not mine or anyone else’s.”

  “Hopefully, you’ll be able to tell Lauren her mom’s alive tonight or first thing in the morning.”

  Harv said, “Depending on how the rest of our evening goes, it might be first thing in the morning. It’s already pretty late for a visit.”

  “Hang on back there,” said Holly. “I’m going to be speeding a little.”

  “A little,” Harv said flatly.

  “We need to be there when Jin calls Benson back,” she explained. “We should make it, barely.”

  “I guess Benson must’ve told Jin we were here,” Harv said.

  “Yes, the pilots called me just after you touched down, and I passed that on to Ethan, who then told Director Benson. Information travels fast around here.”

  He shook his head.

  “It’s not a bad thing, Nathan. It’s supposed to work that way. Unauthorized leaking is bad, not the sharing of intel between agencies. The intelligence community directors have an unofficial hotline of sorts. It’s a little different with the FBI. We report to both the Office of the Director of National Intelligence and the attorney general.”

  “Who has the last say?” Harv asked.

  Holly smiled. “Depends on who you talk to.”

  “Do you guys mind if I call my mom and let her know we made it out here okay and that we may not be stopping by tonight?”

  “Please do,” Holly said.

  “You call your mom,” Harv said, “and I’ll call 911 ahead of time to report our crash. And I thought I drove fast.”

  “Is he always like this?” she asked.

  “Pretty much,” he said.

  His mom said Lauren was asleep, but otherwise okay. Although she’d love to see him, she thought it best if he came by in the morning. She’d be spending the night in Lauren’s room in any case. She also assured him that there were police officers all over the place.

  Overall, pretty good news. One less thing to worry about. He spent another five minutes on the phone, mostly listening. His mom needed to . . . vent? No, that wasn’t the right word. She just needed to talk to her son.

  “For not getting a lot of practice, you’re a damned fine driver,” Harv told Holly when Nathan ended the call.

  “Thank you,” she said, turning right on Seventeenth Street.

  Nathan knew this area well. He’d been in his teens the first time he’d toured the hub of the executive branch with his dad.

  After being carefully identified, they had to pass through two additional manned gates before rolling up to the West Wing’s curb where three black limos sat waiting. Their Lincoln was approached again by
men with bulges under their coats. Nathan had no idea who was who. Was he looking at the DNI’s security people or the Secret Service? He suddenly felt underdressed; his 5.11 Tactical garb didn’t seem formal enough.

  “You feeling it, Harv?” he asked.

  “Yeah, this is friggin’ intense. These guys are some serious hombres. Let’s just say I’m not planning to make any sudden moves.”

  “You guys are overreacting. Everything’s fine.”

  “If you say so,” Harv said.

  Holly asked them to sit tight while she got out and exchanged some words with one of the men. She turned and nodded. They got out and walked toward the parked limousines.

  Introductions were made. Then one of the Secret Service agents opened the door to the last black limo and gestured for the three of them to get in. Nathan had a sudden visual of entering a viper’s nest but knew it wasn’t a fair comparison. The life these public servants lived was mired in secrecy but lacking in privacy. He wondered how they coped with the near-constant pressure from day to day.

  The big car’s interior felt cramped and comfortable at the same time. Two opposing sets of couches faced each other. A man and a woman sat inside. He recognized Benson from TV but didn’t know the woman.

  “Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Benson said, shaking hands with the three of them.

  “We’re glad to do it, Director Benson.”

  “First let me say I’m very sorry about your father. He was a true patriot in every sense of the word. How is your mom holding up?”

  “Not very well. They were married for sixty-two years.”

  “Please offer her my condolences.”

  “Thank you, I will.”

  “I’m comfortable using first names.” He introduced the woman as Ms. Kelley Ford, the ODNI’s principal deputy director, second in line to the throne. She smiled at the reference and shook hands with everyone.

  Ford started to look vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place her.

  “I stole Kelley from Langley. She was the third in command over there.”

  “I met you a long time ago,” she told Nathan.

  He had it. “The wall . . .”

  Ford nodded.

  She’d been standing in front of the CIA’s memorial wall, and they’d struck up a conversation about the absence of names under the stars. He remembered her amber-green eyes.

  “I was a data analyst back then for Latin American ops.” She glanced at Benson, then said, “I reviewed your files.”

  He didn’t say anything. Neither did Harv.

  “I was impressed with the content,” she added.

  “Thank you.” He didn’t know how else to respond. Fortunately he didn’t have to. Benson’s cell rang.

  “Yes . . . They’re here . . . Put her through.” Benson put the call on speaker.

  “Nathan, are you there?”

  The voice on the phone end was definitely his sister; her voice still carried that strange combination of three accents.

  “Yeah, Jin, it’s me.”

  “Am I on speaker?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me the exact time.”

  Benson held his phone out, and Nathan leaned forward for a closer look. “Nine fifty-one.”

  “What are the two code words we use in an emergency?”

  “Sierra Charlie.”

  “Please tell me who’s with you right now.”

  “I’m sitting in a limousine across from Director of National Intelligence Scott Benson and Principal Deputy Director Kelley Ford. Harvey and Holly are also with me. These people are the real deal, Jin.”

  “Where are you?”

  “At the curb outside the West Wing of the White House.”

  “Are we being recorded?”

  Benson nodded.

  “Yes.”

  “Is Lauren one hundred percent safe?” she asked.

  Another nod from Benson.

  “Yes.”

  Jin paused for a long moment. “Is she okay?”

  “Lauren’s currently sleeping, and my mother’s with her. She’s expected to make a full recovery.”

  The pause on the other end was a good thing. He pictured Jin closing her eyes in relief.

  “Would you trust DNI Benson with your life?”

  “Yes. I’ve done it before.”

  “I know who’s responsible for both attacks today, but I don’t know why.”

  “They’re connected, then?” Benson asked.

  “Yes, they’re connected.”

  Nathan let Benson continue even though he had lots of questions.

  “Was Stone the primary target?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you willing to come in and be debriefed?” the DNI asked, glancing at Nathan as he spoke.

  “Yes, but not yet.”

  “Have you told anyone else what you just told us?”

  “No.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want your word my life with Lauren will continue as it was.”

  “If that’s what you want, then you’ll have it. By all accounts, you saved countless lives. Your presence in DC is . . . unexpected, but we’re glad you were here.”

  Well played, Nathan thought. Wisely, Benson hadn’t chided her about being in Washington. When he’d talked with Jin before the trip, he’d advised her—in the strongest possible terms—to let her WITSEC handler know she planned to visit DC. Obviously, she hadn’t done that.

  “Will you tell us where you are?”

  “I’ll call back in twenty minutes with an address. The scene is secure but bring an ambulance. I had to work on the fifth gunman for a long time before he caved. He’s not in good shape. I’ll be gone by the time you arrive.”

  “Ms. Marchand, the gunman from the alley didn’t survive. He bled to death. We need the last man alive. Are you confident he’s not in immediate danger of dying?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you give us a general area where we’ll be going?”

  “Friendship Heights.”

  “Are you okay communicating directly with me from now on? Do you want your brother present?”

  “No, that won’t be necessary.”

  “Jin,” Nathan said, “you don’t need to—”

  The call ended.

  “Re-lo-cate,” he said slowly.

  “Played like a veteran,” Benson said.

  “Can’t say I blame her.”

  “Nor I. We’ve reviewed her file, at least everything we have. It’s what we don’t have that concerns us.”

  “Scott, may I speak freely?” Nathan asked.

  “Yes, but hang on for just a sec. Holly, please get a special-response team moving toward Friendship Heights and arrange an ambulance for Jin’s prisoner. Whoever gets there first is to stage until your people arrive. No one enters the house until the FBI’s SRT is on scene. I’m not sure whose jurisdiction that is . . . might be Metro PD.”

  “I’ll find out and get things rolling.” Pulling her cell, Holly stepped out of the limo.

  “Sorry, Nathan, please continue.”

  “I totally understand where you’re coming from, but my sister has no agenda. She just wants to live out the rest of her life being the best mom she can to her daughter. She’s not a sleeper agent, waiting to be activated. In fact, North Korea would love to get her back, put her on public trial for treason, and then execute her slowly. Now, I just told my sister she can trust you. Am I mistaken about that?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Good, because she’s not holding out for any other reason than to protect her daughter. My niece, by the way.”

  “Understood. We’ll proceed on her terms. It seems we have little choice. I don’t need to say this, but I will: the trust you mentioned has become a triangle. Her, us, and now you.”

  “You’re loud and clear. I just put myself on the line for her.”

  Benson smiled. “I wouldn’t put it quite that strongly. Let’s just say we’ll b
e . . . unhappy if she plays any games with us.”

  “Not her style.”

  “Let’s hope not.”

  “May I ask a question?” Nathan asked.

  “By all means.”

  “How did she get through to you?”

  Benson’s broad smile returned. “She used your name of course.”

  “And that’s all it took?”

  “Well, you do share the name with your father, and you’re not exactly an unknown commodity in my circles.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “Don’t worry. It’s a compliment. Rebecca Cantrell is one of your biggest advocates. Don’t ever repeat this, but I consider her my best IC director. We go back quite a few years.”

  “We’d like to be included in . . . things to come.”

  “I hear you, but it’s not my call. My office has no direct law enforcement powers. You’ll need Ethan’s approval. Given your history, I don’t see it as a major issue. You’ll have my endorsement as well.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Harvey, you’ve been awfully quiet,” said Benson.

  “Jin said the two shootings are related. I’m wondering what that relationship is.”

  “Rest assured, we’re going to find out. Since there’s a direct connection between your father and the Beaumont family, we’ll be digging hard. I’m certain we’ll know a lot more once the FBI’s SRT reaches our mystery address in Friendship Heights. I’ll keep you two in the loop. Kelley’s going to give you her direct number. I can’t tell you everything that’s going on, but I will tell you that President Trump’s personally monitoring the investigation into your father’s assassination.” Benson motioned with his head toward the West Wing’s entrance. “I’ve got to head back inside. Give me Vincent’s wife’s name again?”

  “Charlene. Retired Marine staff sergeant.”

  “Listen, we’re going to find and prosecute the people responsible. Until then, you and Harv are in standby mode. Please be patient.”

  “We’ll be ready.”

  “Over the next few hours, we’re going to selectively leak information to the press. Primarily, that all seven gunmen were killed during the attacks, and we don’t have IDs on any of them. Let’s hope your sister doesn’t contact the press.”

  “She won’t.”

  With that, everyone climbed out of the limo. Nathan thanked Benson for being inclusive and open, then assured him that he and Harv were team players.