by Stephen Frey
“Nothing. And did you hear about Chief Justice Bolger?” Troy went on quickly.
“No. What happened?”
“A truck slammed into his car early this morning as he was driving through DC. He’s dead. It’s being called an accident, and the driver checks out.” Troy hesitated. “But I don’t know. I’ve got a strange feeling about all this.”
“I hear you.”
“I need you, Jack. I’ve gotta get my son back.” Troy took a deep breath. “I’m sorry about everything that happened last night,” he said quietly. “I mean it.”
“I know. So am I.” Troy’s sincerity was unmistakable.
“One more thing, just so you know.”
“What?”
“Jennie and I broke up last night after the party.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks. She just couldn’t take me being away so much.”
“I get it.” It was for the best, Jack figured. The bad feelings between them had been palpable last night. “I’m on my way.” After he ended the call, he glanced over at Karen again. “I’ve got to—”
“I heard,” she interrupted, starting to pull herself out of the seat with a huge effort. “Let’s go.”
“I’m sorry.”
She pressed two fingers to his lips. “Stop it. I heard what Troy said. I just wish I could go after L.J. with you.”
CHAPTER 23
“HOW DO you know of me?”
“I knew a man who knew your father.”
“I need more than that.”
“You’re not getting it,” Baxter replied evenly. “You’re here to serve your president, Commander McCoy, not to ask questions.”
Baxter wasn’t in a great mood to begin with. Dorn was out on the stream getting his fishing in while he had his chief of staff inside doing the dirty work. And what Baxter interpreted as youthful arrogance from the woman wasn’t helping matters.
“Do you understand?”
As Baxter had been rigging up a four-weight rod outside his cabin thirty minutes ago, he’d been informed by one of the president’s aides that he’d be forgoing the fishing to have breakfast with Commander McCoy. Turned out Dorn was impressed with the young woman. The Secret Service was, too, particularly the agents who’d fallen victim to her eerily good ability to stalk prey—and, as she’d predicted, had awoken with epic headaches. At least they’d awoken.
Dorn was impatient to take action, as usual. Though the message from the aide said only to have breakfast with McCoy, because the aide couldn’t know any details, the president’s intent was clear. He wanted to take on Red Cell Seven immediately; he wanted Commander McCoy to lead the attack; and he wanted Baxter to make certain McCoy agreed to join the fight.
“I could walk out of here and go back to what I was doing before if you don’t tell me.”
It was sobering for Baxter to sit across from someone who he was confident could kill him three times over in the moments it would take a Secret Service agent to make it inside this intimate breakfast nook from the double doors that were behind Commander McCoy’s chair.
“And I could have you arrested for insubordination, sent to a south Florida facility the CIA maintains in the Everglades, and you’d never see the light of day again.”
“I’d escape in no time. You’d simply be signing death warrants for a few agents at that camp, because I’d have to kill them to get out. I’ve been to that facility several times. I wouldn’t advise sending me there if you want to keep me penned up for more than twenty-four hours.”
“Yeah, well—”
“It doesn’t impress me that it’s the president who called,” Skylar interrupted. “In the last two years, I’ve probably killed at least a hundred people, all from very close range. Not from across a battlefield, Mr. Baxter. Less than a week ago I killed a twelve-year-old boy because my country ordered me to. Can you even come close to grasping what I’m talking about, what that’s like?”
“No,” he murmured, “of course not.”
Baxter understood very well what she’d done and how it had made her feel. His time in the Office of Naval Intelligence hadn’t been spent cooped up inside an office. But he didn’t want her to know that. He wanted her to underestimate him. Training died hard.
“What’s going on here, Mr. Baxter?”
“There is a clear and present danger with one of this country’s most elite and secret intelligence cells. The cell has gone rogue. We need you to lead the effort to destroy it.”
She leaned back in her chair. “Really?” For the first time she seemed impressed.
“Yes.”
“How do you know it’s gone rogue?”
“Let’s make fully certain we both understand each other before we get to that level of detail.”
“Okay, why me for the job?”
“You come highly recommended.”
“From whom?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Mr. Baxter, I—”
“It doesn’t matter why we chose you, Commander McCoy. We have a serious security issue for the country and for the president, and we need to solve it immediately.” Baxter hesitated. “Haven’t you noticed all the agents running around here this morning? Can’t you hear that helicopter?”
She turned her head slightly and concentrated for a few moments. “That isn’t just one helicopter, sir. I count four.”
Baxter masked a grin as he spooned oatmeal from the bowl in front of him, making certain to include several raisins in the spoonful. He would have had no idea how many helicopters were circling around out there if someone had asked. But he had no doubt that the number she’d just given him was accurate. Commander McCoy had an unsettlingly impressive confidence about her. President Dorn had picked up on that, too. She was one of those people in life who actually hit the hype. They’d both recognized it immediately.
“I think you just answered the ‘why me’ question,” Baxter said. “Now, let’s get down to those details.”
“I need to know, sir.”
He glanced up just as he was about to consume the spoonful of oatmeal. “What?”
“I need to know who that man was, the man who knew my father.”
She wasn’t going any further until she had an answer. That was clear. “It wasn’t just some man who knew your father, Commander McCoy,” he answered as he slowly put the spoon back down into the bowl. “It was me. I knew your father, Kevin, directly from my days in the Office of Naval Intelligence.”
All of this information was still highly classified, but it didn’t really need to be anymore. And hopefully, knowing all of it would quickly get her over her doubts about what was going on here.
“Your father wasn’t just a crab boat captain, Commander. Occasionally, he and his crew worked with the United States government as well when they were out on the Bering Sea, specifically for ONI.”
“How?”
“They dropped off and picked up U.S. spies to and from our submarines. Spies who were going to or coming back from top-secret missions all over Asia. By using your father’s ship, the intelligence officers could keep a low profile as they left for missions or were on their way home. It was perfect. Your father was a brave man. He operated those missions in any kind of weather.”
“I already knew how brave he was,” Skylar said quietly.
“There’s something else you might want to know.”
“What’s that?”
“The name of your father’s ship.”
“It was the Alaskan Star,” she said. “I knew that from a long time ago, when I was a little girl. He took me out on it a few times. I loved that ship. Tell me something I don’t know, Mr. Baxter.”
She’d fallen right for it, and Baxter rather liked that. “Alaskan Star was its christened name, Commander McCoy. But that wasn’t its code
name at ONI.” Baxter stared back at her for several moments as she gazed at him, and what he saw in the intensity of her expression was fascinating. It was as if she knew what he was going to say and the emotion was already affecting her. “Your father was very specific about what he wanted the classified name of his vessel to be. Inside ONI, it was called the Kodiak Sky.” As he spoke the words her eyes went glassy. Just for an instant, but she’d been affected. “Now,” he continued, “let’s get to those details, Sky.”
She nodded. “Yes, sir.”
CHAPTER 24
“THIS WAS the perfect place for them to . . . um . . . to do what they did.” Jack glanced up and down the quiet Greenwich side street. He’d been about to say “take Little Jack,” but he’d changed his mind at the last second. That would have sounded too harsh. “It was easy to get out of town quickly from here.” He gestured in the direction away from the town center. “And they had plenty of places outside town to switch vehicles.”
Jack and Troy were standing on the exact spot where L.J. had been kidnapped several hours earlier. Cheryl had been able to describe the location through her tears, but relate only that the van was black. She couldn’t give them the make or any of the letters or numbers of the license plate.
She’d been borderline hysterical, but now she was resting after receiving a sedative administered by her personal physician. The doctor was told only that a close relative had died suddenly and that Cheryl was understandably upset. Because of Troy’s connection to Red Cell Seven, they still hadn’t contacted the police, much to Jack’s dismay. But he had to let Troy take the lead. After all, it was his son.
“A perfect time of day, too,” Troy said as he shaded his eyes from the bright noon sun. “It would have been deserted here at eight o’clock this morning. Just like Mom said. The few stores along this block probably don’t open until ten,” he said, checking the sign on the door of the small jewelry shop behind them. “Like this one.” Troy pointed over his shoulder, then in the direction of town. “Mom went to the Whole Foods over on Putnam. That place opens at seven. You know how she is about getting everything she’s fixing that day early on. But I bet nothing was open on this street. That’s why she parked over here. There were plenty of spaces at that time of the morning.” Troy gestured up and down the street. “There sure aren’t now.”
“This thing was well planned,” Jack said. “Maybe it was an inside job. You think people on the security force at the house were involved?”
“We should see if anyone resigns in the next few days or just did. It seems like a stretch to think that would happen, because you know how thoroughly Dad checked them out. But who knows?” Troy shook his head. “One thing I do know is that Mom shouldn’t have come in to Greenwich by herself with Little Jack.”
Jack considered telling Troy how Cheryl had asked Jennie to help her this morning, to come along with her and Little Jack on the trip into town. But Jennie had declined—and without a good reason.
Cheryl had told him all that right before he and Karen had left for JFK and the now-delayed honeymoon. And it caused him to wonder. Jennie was a sweet young woman, and it seemed crazy to think she could be involved with L.J.’s abduction.
“What’s up?” Troy asked.
“Nothing.”
Jack hated always being suspicious of everyone and everything, but it came with being a Jensen. However, it was way too premature to say anything about his suspicions. Troy had to be sad after their breakup, whether he admitted it or not. He hadn’t volunteered anything about it on the drive into town from the family home, and Jack hadn’t brought it up.
Now that L.J. had been kidnapped, Troy had to be on a razor-thin emotional edge. Jack was close to that edge himself, and L.J. was only his nephew.
Jack muttered to himself for suspecting Jennie. That was ridiculous. “Should we call the cops?”
“No, damn it. We can’t. I told you that before.”
“At some point we have to.” Jack had to respect Troy’s perspective on this—for now. But if they didn’t turn up anything soon, what other choice did they have? “At least you know you’ve got some very capable resources to call on if we dig up anything.”
“I can’t use RC7 assets for this,” Troy answered.
“If we figure out that Little Jack’s abduction has anything to do with Red Cell Seven, you’d damn well better call on your people to help, especially if you’re not going to call the cops.” Jack hesitated. “You will, right?”
“Did you get the feeling you were being followed at any time last week?” Troy asked, avoiding Jack’s question.
“No. Did you?”
“I thought I did once, but the guy disappeared before I could confront him.”
“You think that had something to do with what happened here?”
“Maybe. Hey, did Mom really tell you she thought she saw Dad this morning?”
“Yeah. But she also said she’s thought she’s seen him twenty other times in the last nine months.” Jack pointed up at one side of the jewelry store, above the sign. “Look.”
Troy followed the direction of Jack’s nod. Right away, he understood. “Security camera, and it’s probably on twenty-four/seven.”
“Yup, let’s go.”
“How can I help you gentlemen?” the man behind the glass counter asked in a slight German accent as Jack and Troy hustled inside the shop. The shelves beneath the glass were filled with glittering rings and necklaces. “Something for your lovely wife,” he suggested, tapping the shiny wedding band on Jack’s left hand. “As you can see, I have a fine selection.”
BILL JENSEN and Shane Maddux sat together in the living room of the cabin, eyes glued to the TV screen. The announcement was only a few seconds away. President Dorn was wasting no time.
As they watched, Dorn walked somberly along the White House corridor toward a podium with the presidential seal affixed to it. After greeting the assembled press corps and the invited guests with a subdued “hello” and a nostalgic smile, he took several minutes to extol the long list of accomplishments of the dead Supreme Court chief justice and then thanked Warren Bolger posthumously for his long and admirable service to the country.
“Here it comes,” Maddux said as the president paused to gather himself. “He sure as hell didn’t wait long.”
“No, he didn’t,” Bill murmured. “Let’s see who he picks.”
“Today,” Dorn began again, “I am nominating Associate Justice Henry Espinosa to take Warren Bolger’s place as chief justice of the United States Supreme Court.” The crowd clapped politely as Espinosa walked to the podium to shake the president’s hand. “I am confident that the nomination will be approved by Congress very swiftly, based on the outstanding record Justice Espinosa has put together in a very short time on the high court. I know others on the court could execute this function admirably as well, and it was a close call for me. But I am confident that I have made the right choice.” He winked and gave everyone a winning smile. “In fact, I am supremely confident.”
“You called it, Bill,” Maddux spoke up as the crowd laughed at the pun and applauded again, louder this time. “You said it would be Espinosa.”
“Espinosa is President Dorn’s guy. I just hope this doesn’t mean what I think it does.” Bill had described the secret procedure to Maddux before Dorn had taken the podium. He’d explained how, theoretically, the chief justice could potentially manipulate his way around the protection the Order provided Red Cell Seven if he didn’t follow the prescribed procedure. “I’m worried, Shane.”
“You really think Dorn could have been involved in Warren Bolger’s death?”
“I think Stewart Baxter does his bidding exactly. Baxter comes off as a very polished man, but years ago he was involved with the Office of Naval Intelligence. I could never confirm that he was actually a member of ONI, but he definitely worked with those guys. He could ha
ve people pull off something like that. People like us.”
“And make it look like an accident.”
“Absolutely.”
“I checked around, and the guy who was driving the truck that killed Bolger seems clean.”
“Baxter’s a very slippery, very resourceful guy. You know that, Shane, better than most.” Bill pointed at the screen. “He looks scared.”
“Who?”
“Espinosa. In fact, he looks terrified. He looks like—”
Maddux held up a hand. “Someone’s coming up the driveway. It should be Ward, but go back in your bedroom until I call you.”
Bill stood up and headed away obediently. He’d almost asked Shane about Rita’s fate several times. But he’d been afraid that he’d get some very bad news. Maddux wouldn’t screw around with that answer.
Bill sighed deeply as he closed the bedroom door behind himself. Suddenly he was feeling very old and vulnerable.
“Bill,” Maddux called after a few minutes. “Come on out. It’s Ward.”
“I’ve turned up an interesting development,” Ward said as he shook hands with Bill and they all sat down. “If it had only been one report, I wouldn’t have worried about it.” He pointed at the big golden retriever and then at the floor by the chair he’d sat in. Drexel quickly obeyed and sat beside him. “People get on planes, but three of these guys all traveling at the same time and all coming to the same place? That seems like too much of a coincidence. That’s why I’m here.”
“What are you talking about?” Bill asked.
“I got three separate reports yesterday about several individuals of significant interest all heading for Washington, DC. All three of them are high-octane assassins. I’m talking best in the business.” Ward pulled out a cigarette and lighted it. “I think we’ve got a serious situation on our hands.”
“Who’s the target?” Bill asked. “David Dorn?”
