“Hold on.” Andrews said and opened a drawer. He took out some wireless earbuds and handed one to each of them. “Communications set for the interior and immediate exterior. There’s a blue and a red channel. The agents are set to blue. I’m blue and red. You all set your channels to red. Everything goes through me.”
“Damn efficient.” Dane took his as did the others.
When Cap and Shana left the security room two agents came in and sat at the desks to man the stations.
“What are you waiting for?” Andrews asked Dane.
“Where’s the President?”
“He’s in his room. Under guard.”
“Any chance he’ll stay there for a while?”
“He gave us until eight fifteen.” Andrews shook his head. “He’s determined to catch them one way or another. He’ll be heavily armored. I think he’s half looking forward to the confrontation and fancy’s catching them himself.” Andrews lifted his wrist to look at his watch. “You have twelve minutes to find the assassins before the President makes himself a target.”
Dane shoved out the door and went in search of the office and his tux. He found the room and dressed in record time even for him. He figured once he got to the ballroom where the guests were milling he’d have three minutes to find the Chambers. Great.
The first person he saw when he entered the main entry way was his friend, Governor Peter John Douglas. Apparently, he was playing host and greeting guests in a very short reception line as people entered. Dane joined him. His original assignment was supposed to be a post at the front door on the outside, but there were already almost a hundred people there, he’d guess, and an endless stream at the door and down the walkway.
Shit. He’d been told the guest list was one hundred and fifty but there looked like more than that, probably because there were at least another fifty federal agents posing as guests and a dozen posing as servers. Then there were the Secret Service agents who were standing at their posts not making any secret about who they were.
The Chambers would never get away with an assassination attempt with this security. Not unless they planned to take a hostage or kill massive numbers of people, for instance with a bomb. The simple explosive device they’d rigged back at the pie shop came to his mind. The collar on his tux felt like it was shrinking and he tugged at it. Trickles of sweat ran down his back under the layers of Kevlar, shirt, and tux jacket.
Keeping his eyes on auto scan without any obvious swivel of his head, Dane stepped in line next to Peter and nodded at the short older woman shaking the Governor’s hand.
“How long have you been at the door?” Dane asked under his breath.
“Good to have you join us. Mrs. Stempel, this is my old friend Dane Blaise.” He handed the bright-eyed old woman over to him and said under his breath. “Not long enough. I missed the first twenty minutes.”
“Oh my, aren’t you the handsome one. You bring to mind a fair-haired James Bond.” She winked at him and kept walking. Dane would have been suspicious of the lady, but she was far too short to be Emeline. That was one important and distinct feature the assassin would not be able to disguise.
“I’ve only seen photos. Glad you’re here to give a closer look. This whole setup makes me nervous,” Peter said.
Dane nodded. Most of the people came in and handed over their invitations to security and walked by.
“Where’s Andrews?”
“Everywhere. Where’s Shana? We need her eyes on the crowd too.”
“She’s dressing. Hiding the bruises and fat lip will take some doing.”
Peter turned to him. “Is she all right? Truly?”
Dane’s gut dipped and rattled. He didn’t like to think about Preston Chambers slapping her around. Not trusting his voice, he nodded. Peter put a hand on his shoulder.
“She’s a tough cookie, Dane.”
“No need to tell me that. She’s so tough she’s agreed to marry the most unmarry-able guy in the world.”
Peter smiled. “Don’t look now but here she comes. On your seven.”
“Is she carrying a tray of food? Because I’m famished.”
“No. Drinks.”
Dane snorted as he watched the next wave of people closely. He turned on his wireless earbud.
“I’m covering the front door with PJD. She-Devil and Captain Kangaroo should cover the crowd in the ballroom who got here early. We missed them.”
“Captain Kangaroo?” Peter said.
He got affirmations from Shana and Cap on the line and turned to Peter.
“You have no problem with She-Devil?”
Peter shook his head. “I’m going to circulate. And then I’m going to speak with the special guest of honor one last time.”
“To talk him out of showing up?”
“No chance of that, but I can buy you some time. Wish me luck.” Peter made a graceful exit from the entry foyer and jogged up the stairs with his usual swift elegance. The man hadn’t lost his touch.
They needed all the extra time they could get. The line of people entering had dwindled and now there were only stragglers. Dane would bet his Kevlar vest that Emeline and Preston were already here, operating in plain sight.
Taking a glass of champagne from the tray of a waiter who he recognized as one of Andrews’s agents, Dane decided it was time for him to circulate. Heading into the ballroom, he spotted Andrews at three o’clock about twenty feet away. Scanning the crowd for tall women, he began eliminating the female guests he passed on his way to Agent Andrews.
Then he paused, only for a beat. Shana’s voice came through his earbud.
“I’ve spotted Emeline.”
“You sure? Where are you?” Dane spoke softly. Adrenaline crashed into his system like a rushing river breaking through a dam.
“Positive. I’m near the French doors along the west wall.”
Changing direction, he kept walking, not too fast, but efficiently through the groups of guests, in her direction. Dane zoomed in and spotted Shana and noticed where she flicked her gaze. He followed the line and then, sure enough, spotted the tallish woman, her back to him.
But he’d recognize the long line of that neck anywhere. People didn’t think about their body structure as dead giveaways, but they ought to. He’d studied the photos, but not the facial features as much as the lines of the bodies and any identifying quirks or measures. Dane scanned the woman and noted the muscular legs, rounded calves. Bingo. The photos they had weren’t full body shots, but he’d had a chance to observe the couple at the airport that day. He’d made the most of the opportunity.
“Keep her in your sights. Is her partner nearby?” Dane studied the men in her circle from close to her and then concentrically outward. On the third ring of her circular perimeter, he spotted his man.
“Got him.”
“You sure?” Shana said.
Then Andrews’s voice came on. “Keep watching but don’t do anything and don’t get too close. I’m moving my men into place now.
Dane circled around the opposite side of the two assassins while Shana stayed in place. He kept them all in his sights.
“I’m approaching from the west through the doors,” Cap’s voice came on.
“Hold your positions.” Andrews’s voice sounded like someone had his balls in a vise and he was having trouble breathing. Dane supposed his balls may as well be in a vise given the situation he was in, the responsibility he’d been charged with.
While Dane circled around behind Preston Chambers, Dane kept Shana and Emeline in his sights. So when Emeline turned toward Shana, he watched as his heart surged into his throat.
He closed in as fast as he could, listening to Andrews swearing in his ear. They could all hear Emeline when she spoke to Shana.
“I see you made it to our party.” She wasn’t surprised. That scared Dane more than anything else. Something was wrong with this picture and he was not waiting to find out what, to hell with Andrews shouting to his people to surround t
he room and wait.
“The President is coming downstairs now,” Andrews said. That was the last thing Dane needed to hear. He shut down his earpiece and moved in on Preston Chambers from behind, grabbing him so that he twisted an arm around his back as he shoved his Glock into the base of the man’s spine. He was shorter than Dane and smaller, but he was strong. He squirmed until Dane pinched his wrist on a pressure point that he knew would cause excruciating pain. He heard the man groan through his teeth.
They’d planned to take the couple as surreptitiously as possible into a nearby unoccupied room—the office off the front corridor where he’d changed. Andrews demanded that they cause as little commotion as possible. They’d invited lots of press to this party to give them access as promised in payment for their cooperation about the airport incident.
Dane would go along with this directive, but only so far. The minute anyone’s life was endangered, all bets were off.
Andrews had agreed.
It was getting perilously close to that point because Dane feared the couple’s plan in fact counted on chaos. He whispered in Preston’s ear.
“Walk with me or I shoot this gun and you’re either a paraplegic or you’re dead.”
*****
Shana moved in on Emeline and as she got close, it was as if the woman sensed her presence. Emeline turned and recognized Shana instantly. But she didn’t panic as Shana thought she would. She smiled and said, “I see you made it to our party.”
At that moment, Shana watched Dane take hold of Preston Chambers with a gun pressed against his spine.
Nodding her head in the direction of Preston, Shana said, “The party is over.”
Shana watched Emeline turn to see her lover and his face seized in pain as Dane walked with him in a quiet semicircle toward the door. She watched the woman size the situation up and waited for Andrews to give the go-ahead. Shana’s pulse grew loud enough to drown out the party noises. She steadied herself, tunneling in on the woman.
Dane kept moving Preston toward the door.
The beat before it happened, Shana knew. She saw Emeline lose her cool, lose control and panic. Emeline took something from her bag, some kind of plastic. Then Shana recognized the porcelain kitchen knife from Sassy’s shop.
There was no way Shana would allow herself to lose control the way Emeline had. Shana would not panic, but she burst forward the last steps to get herself in position, temples pounding, sweat popping on her forehead. Andrews yelled in her ear and agents closed in around her. Dane was less than two feet away and Emeline was quick footed as she lunged, her arm arcing up over her head with ballerina grace.
Shana saw the deadly move unfold, aware of several agents scrambling in her periphery. No one was close enough. She wasn’t close enough. She watched Preston Chambers duck as Emeline’s knife slashed toward Dane’s neck while he turned.
The scene seemed to be taking place in slow motion in her mind. Slow enough for her to pull her gun from her bag as she watched Preston duck, tugging himself from Dane’s grasp. Slow enough for her to take aim as she slid her finger on the trigger, slow enough for her to squint one eye and target Emeline’s temple from three feet away. She pulled the trigger.
Shana fired the gun at the same instant Emeline’s knife slashed forward arcing toward its target with terrible accuracy and force.
Dane had pulled back when he saw the knife coming, but not fast enough. Shana’s bullet hit Emeline’s temple in the same moment, frozen in Shana’s mind, as Emeline cut Dane’s flesh with her knife.
Blood spattered everywhere.
Chapter 19
Dane heard a scream at the same time he felt the unmistakable searing pain of a knife cutting through his flesh.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. He didn’t know if he’d said words aloud. In his head, with the loud buzzing, his thoughts screamed his worry over Shana. He tried to look for her, tried to see her, but the buzzing turned his head fuzzy and light flashed, then faded like the pop of an old-fashioned camera bulb. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t stand, couldn’t tell his legs to move, couldn’t tell his hands to twist Emeline Chambers’ neck to end her miserable destructive life.
*****
Shana screamed as she watched Dane fall to the floor, his blood spurting. She would not panic, she would not let go of her control. She leapt over Emeline’s body. Still holding her gun, she threw Preston aside, aware of the melee in the room around her, shouts and rushing people. Someone else would take care of Preston.
She went for Dane. Collapsing to her knees next to him, she tore and wadded a piece of her dress and covered the wound on his neck. There was a lot of blood. Some of it had to be from Emeline, please God. She shut her eyes for a beat and forced herself to check the wound, to see if an artery had been severed. The way he went down, almost instantly, looked like she could have severed some nerves. No, don’t think like that.
She looked up and around and shouted, “I need an ambulance, a doctor. Now.”
It seemed like forever, but later she realized it had only been a minute, less than two, before EMTs rushed to her side and lifted Dane into the stretcher. He remained unconscious and still, not even a flicker of his eyelids. Shana ran with the gurney out the front door to the lawn as they pulled it into the ambulance. When she tried climbing in, she was pulled back by someone.
She screamed and lashed out, kicked and clawed at the restraining arms. When the door was shut and the ambulance careened off with its sirens blasting, she collapsed. Cap had held her back.
“Why didn’t you let me go?” She turned to him and realized then that she’d been sobbing. He held her.
“Because there was nothing you could do and they needed to work on him.” She felt his unspoken words as if they were lead anvils weighing on her chest. She felt his arms around her and became aware of all the other people, the federal agents, the party guests. The governor stood a few feet away from her, watching her with a serious expression, the kind eyes telling her he wanted to cry too.
She stopped crying and swiped the tears from her face as best as she could. She realized she didn’t have her bag, or her gun.
“My gun—”
“Andrews picked it up. We need to go to State Police—”
In a calm and steady voice, Shana said, “No way in hell am I going anywhere except to the hospital right now.”
Cap paused a beat then nodded. “I’ll take you. Andrews can cool his heels.”
A voice sounded from behind them.
“I’ll join you at the hospital at some point.” It was Andrews. The Governor stood with him.
She had no smile for Peter though she wanted to. If she were better, more under control, she would smile, but as it was, she felt like her heart was disintegrating in her chest and she hoped to be able to walk to the car with Cap without collapsing.
“Let’s go.” Her voice was raspy, as if her voice box had lost its power, like an electric guitar with no electricity.
Cap moved her forward. She wanted to go, felt an urgent need to be with Dane right now. But she dreaded going to the hospital. Dreaded what she would find.
*****
They went in through the emergency room doors amid chaos. The first thing Shana noticed was the trail of blood on the floor. She covered her mouth with her hands. With an arm around her, Cap kept her steady and marched them through to the nurses’ station where they found someone to talk to.
Cap asked the question for her, showing his badge. She realized that because she wasn’t Dane’s wife yet, she had no standing to insist on seeing him. None except sheer will and her let them try and stop me attitude.
“Dane Blaise is being prepped for surgery now. Neck wound. Serious blood loss though the major artery wasn’t sliced.”
Gritting her teeth against wincing or vomiting, Shana stiffened every muscle in her body with her effort to stay calm.
“Does he need blood? I have blood.” She sounded like an idiot, but anxiety bubbled as high as it co
uld go without spilling over.
“We have the blood supply under control. They’re giving him blood now.” The doctor’s kind eyes lingered on her and she remembered what she looked like.
“Do you need treatment?” The doctor reached out and touched her fat lip and tilted her head to look at her temple where she knew there was a cut and a lump.
“Let’s get you looked at. While you’re waiting. It’ll be at least an hour before they’re finished. I can treat you in this room right here.” The doctor pointed to a door ten feet away off the short corridor leading to the swinging surgery doors. He was quiet and gentle, his words soothing and calming.
Cap only had to nod his head to convince her.
“Promise to let me know immediately if anything happens,” she said.
“I will. I’ll be right here.”
*****
She hadn’t needed the doctor to tell her she had a concussion, but she was surprised at his adamant instructions on what she needed to do to treat it properly. Shana didn’t tell him she’d already broken most of the recommendations. She’d been overexposed to stimulation, lights, noise, and activity and had had no rest if she didn’t count the time while she was unconscious.
At least when she walked from the examining room she felt refreshed and was bandaged where she needed to be, including her hand. Plus, she’d swallowed a few super Tylenols or whatever they were called. Her head still pounded, but not as loud. She found Cap leaning against the wall a few feet from her.
The only one thing the doctor couldn’t do for her was remove the lump of anxiety in her throat. She looked at Cap and he shook his head.
“No news yet. Must still be in surgery. He’ll be fine.” Cap put out an arm and she went to his side and let him hold her while they stood waiting.
*****
Dane opened his eyes almost before he was awake. How else to explain the vision of loveliness at the center of the bright light above him. He was either in heaven—and that was damned unlikely—or he was dreaming.
Beachcomber Danger Page 14
