Not for the first time, Dade questioned what he was doing here.
He had enough problems of his own, he certainly didn’t need to take the senator’s on. Besides, even if they were able to warn the senator away from appearing tomorrow in the park, what’s to say Petrovich wouldn’t try again? Another time, a new location. There were too many unknowns and not enough concrete details.
And, to be honest, he only had Anya’s word that Petrovich was planning to target the senator at all. For all he knew she might well be working for him, might have accepted the contract after all, and this was just a way to get close to her new target.
He looked over at her now, trying to gauge the thoughts behind her expression. She watched the activity in the room, her eyes resting maybe a little longer on each intern than Dade’s. She was interested in what they were doing, watching their lips as they spoke, trying, he guessed, to make out conversations. If it was because she was calculating her next move or because she was truly interested in the senator, he couldn’t say.
It was a nice idea that she cared about the senator’s well-being. Bad girl gone straight. Killer turned savior. But he wasn’t sure he bought it completely. Warning the senator about the hit was a singularly selfless act. People on the run for their lives weren’t usually known for being selfless. He wondered at her real motives for being here.
Her eyes flicked to his. She’d felt him watching her. Not much escaped her notice, that he’d learned.
“How much longer you think they’ll keep us waiting?” he asked, trying to cover the fact that he’d been staring at her.
She shrugged. “He’s a busy man.”
Dade nodded. “So am I.”
She shot him a look, but didn’t answer, instead picking up a magazine at random from the table in front of them, flipping to a page near the front, staring at the type but no more reading it than Dade had been reading his.
They sat in silence another ten minutes before a man finally emerged from one of the back offices and strode purposefully toward them. He was dressed in charcoal grey suit with a classic white shirt and paisley tie beneath. His blond hair was slicked back from his forehead in a stylish manner straight out of some men’s magazine. Way too polished to be the just-one-of-the-people Braxton.
“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting,” the man said as he approached, extending his hand first to Anya, then Dade. “David Prescott.”
Dade shook the man’s hand. His grip was firm and quick … polite, confident, impersonal.
“Anna Smith,” Anya offered. “And this is Nick Dade.”
“We were hoping to speak with the senator,” Dade said.
“I’m sorry, but Senator Braxton isn’t available at the moment. Out campaigning hard. You know how that goes,” he finished, flashing a smile at Anya.
“And you are?” Dade asked the man.
“I’m the senator’s chief executive consultant.”
“Which means what?”
The man smiled. “It means I make sure Mr. Braxton wins the nomination.”
“We should speak to someone in security,” Anya said. “We have some information.”
Prescott nodded. “That’s what our receptionist told me. Please, come into my office. We can talk there.” He turned, leading them back down the small hallway at the back of the room he’d originally emerged from.
“Senator Braxton must have a lot of supporters,” Anya observed, gesturing to the row of closed office doors lining the hallway.
Prescott nodded. “He does.”
“Are all these offices filled with consultants such as yourself?”
“There are several people working on the senator’s campaign staff off and on,” he answered noncommittally, opening the last door on the left and gesturing Anya and Dade into his office.
It was small, with a large window facing south. As modestly furnished as the workroom, it held a small desk, and a pair of chairs facing the window. Bookshelves lined the walls, and a computer sat open on the desk’s surface.
Prescott gestured to the chairs. “Please, sit.”
They did, and Prescott took a seat behind the desk before asking, “So, what can I do for you?”
“We have information that makes us nervous for Senator Braxton’s welfare at tomorrow’s rally,” Anya said.
Prescott raised an eyebrow. “What kind of information?”
“We believe there may be an attempt on his life.”
If Prescott believed them, he showed no signs of distress, wearing just the same slightly interested look that Dade had a feeling the guy wore whether he was listening to opera or watching porn. It was classic politician-face. Smug, pleasant, never telling.
“May I ask what leads you to believe this?”
“No,” Dade broke in. “You may not.”
Dade was happy to see Prescott’s smile falter for a second before pasting itself back on his face.
“I see. Where did you get this information?”
Instead of answering, Anya said, “What kind of security do you have planned for tomorrow?”
Prescott clasped his hands in front of him. It was a move Dade knew well. It was designed to mask any sort of unconscious tells—gestures, fidgeting, nervous habits. Prescott had obviously been schooled in Lying 101.
“I can assure you that we have taken all possible security scenarios into account and provided adequate means to keep the senator safe.”
“Adequate for what?” Anya pressed.
Prescott’s smile was showing strain. “Adequate for any circumstance that should arise. I’m sorry, where did you say you obtained information of this threat?”
“We didn’t,” Dade answered.
“Well, unless you can tell me anything more specific…” Prescott trailed off, clearly inviting explanation.
Dade crossed his arms over his chest, looking to Anya. This was her idea, her gig. He still wasn’t even sure what they were doing there. This was exactly how he’d envisioned this interview going—in circles. Surely Anya hadn’t been naïve enough to think this guy would jump to cancel the rally on their vague say-so.
Anya took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I wish we could tell you more, but we don’t have details. Just … knowledge of a threat.”
Prescott nodded. “And you can’t tell me where you heard this threat.”
Anya pursed her lips together, then slowly shook her head.
Prescott nodded. “All right. Well, I’ll tell you what? I’ll definitely let the senator’s security team know to have their eyes open tomorrow, how does that sound?”
It sounded like bullshit to Dade. Anya nodded, though Dade seriously doubted the guy would do more than make sure reception had their names on the do-not-allow-entry list.
Prescott stood, and offered a hand to Anya, effectively ending the interview. “Pleasure to meet you” he said automatically.
She nodded and smiled. “You, too.”
He moved around the desk to see them out, holding the door open for them.
But Anya paused on the threshold. “Um, Mr. Prescott, do you think I could use the restroom before we leave? We have a long drive back to the City.”
Prescott glanced down at his watch, an unconscious move, a quick slip in his politician demeanor. Never let them see how little they mean to you, never let them see how they’re wasting your time.
“Of course,” he answered. “It’s just down this hallway to the left. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a press release I need to prepare. I trust you can see yourselves out?”
Anya shot him a big smile. “Of course. And thank you again for taking the time to see us, Mr. Prescott.”
“Sorry I couldn’t be of more help,” he said, standing in the doorway to his office, watching Anya walk down the hallway the direction he’d indicated. Dade noticed that Prescott waited until she pushed through the restroom door before nodding Dade’s way and disappearing back into his office.
As soon as Prescott’s door clicked shut, the restroo
m door popped open again and Anya emerged.
“Have the car ready. I’ll be out in ten minutes,” she whispered to Dade, then quickly moved to one of the other closed office doors. She paused just a moment outside, listening, before she turned the knob and slipped inside.
Dade watched, mental wheels turning.
What the hell was she up to?
* * *
Anna blinked in the dark office space. Unlike Prescott’s room, this one held no window, just a desk, a pair of chairs in front, one leather office chair behind. File cabinets lined the walls, bookcases on either side. Nothing fancy, but all the essentials were there.
Including the laptop open on the desk.
She went straight to it, quickly jiggling the screen to life with the keypad. As she’d hoped, it was already logged in to the campaign’s internal network, giving her access to the same files the interns on the floor had. Which, she quickly realized, was not a whole lot. However, it gave her an opening to worm through to get to the information she really wanted—Senator Braxton’s security schematics.
As much as she’d been honest about wanting to stop the attempt on Braxton’s life, she had another motive in coming here—stopping the attempts on her own life. She’d had no illusions that their vague references to a threat would cause the senator’s campaign to cancel the rally. It was far too close to election time and far too important a city to ignore. Her real motive in coming here had been just this—to gain access to information about where security would be stationed at the rally, and more specifically, how she could get around it.
Shelli was in the wind. Petrovich didn’t even officially exist. The warehouse they’d held her at was clearly a temporary place, even if it hadn’t been burnt to a crisp by the forklift explosion. Anna was out of ways to track them down. But she knew for certain there was one place she could find them—at Senator Braxton’s rally tomorrow.
And that was where she planned to take them out.
Anna’s fingers flew across the keyboard, quickly gaining access to the security files, detailing how many secret service were expected to be at the senator’s side, where local police would be stationed to control the crowds, and what sort of profile would qualify for their seemingly random searches.
Anna committed it all to memory, quickly shutting down the window and digitally erasing any sign of her intrusion. She lowered the laptop screen back to sleep, then got up from the desk and slipped out of the room.
“Anna?”
She started and spun around, finding Prescott standing directly behind her in the hallway, a frown of concern etched on his brow. Had he seen her come out of the room?
“Uh, hi. I … I think I’m lost,” she said, pulling up her best bimbo voice. “Um, where did you say the restrooms were again?”
Prescott’s forehead smoothed, a smile replacing the momentary show of real emotion. “Back that way. Take a left.”
She nodded. “Right. Thanks,” she said, and slipped down the hall to the bathroom. She locked herself in a stall, waited a three count, then walked out into the hallway again. She noticed Prescott’s door was open, his eyes on the restroom door as she exited. She gave him a little wave, then quickly made her way back down the hall to reception and out the front door to Dade’s SUV, which was idling at the curb.
She said a silent thank you for Dade’s compliance, then slipped into the passenger seat.
“Go,” she said. “Before he starts asking questions.”
Dade did, pulling away from the curb, pointing the SUV back toward the freeway.
“You want to share what that was really about?” he asked.
His voice was calm, though Anna could feel an edge to it, lurking just below the words. Dade didn’t like being out of the loop.
“Security details.”
Dade’s eyes stayed straight ahead on the road. Though she could tell he was mentally putting pieces together. “For the rally.”
She nodded.
“Because you plan to be there.”
Again, she gestured in the affirmative.
Dade took a deep breath, letting it out slowly through his nose. “Look, I’m obviously involved in this up to my eyeballs. I’m seeing it through to the end. But I don’t like being kept in the dark.”
Anna nodded. “Okay. I understand.” And she did. She glanced across the console at Dade. But how much could she trust him?
He’d dispensed with the handcuffs, returned her weapon to her. But had it been out of trust or because he knew she had nowhere to run, only one shot left in her gun? How much of that had been a show to gain her trust and how much was sincere? She didn’t know. But at the moment, she didn’t have much of a choice. It was trust Dade or work against him. And it was going to be a hell of a lot easier if he was on her side.
If even just for the moment.
She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Okay. Look, Petrovich isn’t going to give up. In his mind, if I’m not with him, I’m against him. I can either spend my life running from him, or I can face him. He’ll be at that rally to kill the senator. I need to be there, too. I need to get to Petrovich before he gets to Braxton. I need to end this.”
Dade didn’t say anything, kept his eyes straight ahead on the road. Finally he asked, “So what’s your plan?”
“Think like Petrovich. Plan the assassination the way he would.”
“Only it’s not Braxton you plan to assassinate.”
She bit her lip. In all honesty, she wasn’t sure she could pull the trigger on Petrovich, even if the opportunity presented itself. She wasn’t sure she had it in her to kill anymore.
But she nodded anyway.
Dade kept his attention on the road in front of him. His eyes were fixed straight ahead, the line in his jaw tense. She wished she knew what he was thinking, but the thoughts behind his eyes were carefully veiled.
Finally he spoke. “Fine. We’ll go to the rally. I’ll help you.”
CHAPTER 18
They settled into silence, each lost in their own thoughts about the following day as farmlands stretched one into another on the drive back to the city.
Anna watched the sun begin to sink into the horizon, creating a mosaic of soft pinks, violent oranges, and deep purple hues shot through with delicate wisps of clouds. She wondered if Braxton was on that same road somewhere. Heading toward San Francisco to get a good night’s sleep in some motel before the rally tomorrow. She wondered if Prescott would tell him about their visit, or if Braxton would take the stage tomorrow blissfully unaware of intentions lurking somewhere in the crowd. Silently, she wondered which was better.
“We need gas,” Dade said, breaking into her thoughts as he pulled off the freeway. Farmland flanked the road on either side here, a small service station and an all-night diner planted at the end of the off-ramp the only buildings in sight. Dade pulled down the ramp to the one main road crossing the freeway and into the service station, coming to a stop at the first pump.
As he went inside to pay, Anna got out and stretched her legs. She clipped Lenny’s leash on and walked him as far as the patch of grass at the road holding a sign touting the lowest gas prices in the county. He walked in a circle, sniffed at the grass, backtracked again to the sign, then finally squatted down and did the deed. Anna turned a plastic garbage bag inside out, and used it to scoop his mess, depositing it in a trash can next to the pump.
“Excuse me?”
Anna spun around to find a man in a baseball cap and sunglasses standing behind her.
Too close behind her.
She instinctively took a step away. “Yes?”
“Do you know where Dayton Farms is?”
A lost farmworker. Nothing nefarious.
Anna forced out the breath she’d instinctively held in at the sight of him.
“Sorry. No, I don’t.”
The man smiled, showing off a mouthful of crooked teeth. “Bummer. I’m supposed to be helping with inventory tonight. Been driving in circles for t
he last hour.”
“Sorry,” she said again, shrugging her shoulders. “Wish I could help.”
He nodded. “Well, thanks, anyway. Have a nice evening.”
“You, too,” she said automatically as the man turned around and walked toward a rusted green pickup truck parked next to the second gas pump.
He slid into the driver’s seat of the truck and leaned over to the glove box. Probably pulling out a map, she decided. He paused a few minutes, then Anna saw the lights on his truck turn on, the engine roar to life, and he pulled out of the station, heading toward the freeway.
“Ready?” Dade asked. He was screwing the gas cap back on.
She nodded, bundling Lenny back into the car.
While the road had been dotted with cars on their way to Sacramento, at this time of night most of the traffic was running the opposite direction, commuters who worked in the city driving toward the outlying suburbs where their dollar stretched into bigger homes and better school districts. There were precious few cars traveling beside their SUV, only the occasional pair of headlights piercing the growing dusk to pass them. Dade stuck to the right lane, letting the faster cars go around, keeping to a maximum of five miles over the speed limit.
Anna watched a pair of headlights approach in the rearview mirror. The driver signaled left, pulled around them, and passed.
A few minutes later another pair approached. She watched them grow bigger, the light filling the SUV’s cab. It took a moment before she realized they were filling it too brightly. Growing too big.
“Dade?” Anna warned, her eyes glued to the mirror.
Only he didn’t get a chance to respond before the headlights surged forward, kissing the SUV’s back bumper.
Play Nice Page 18
