by Debra Webb
Rupert turned to the agent posted in the room. “Excuse us for a few minutes, Agent Copeland.”
Agent Copeland nodded once and left the expansive family room that occupied the full width of the right side of the ground floor. He wouldn’t go far. Perhaps into the foyer or across the hall to the kitchen or dining room allowing privacy without his being more than a few feet away. His orders would not allow him to be out of visual and audible range at the same time or to be more than thirty feet from her at any given moment. Since the Code Red had gone into effect, he or one of his relief agents had even taken to sleeping in the study that connected to her bedroom.
Taking a long weekend retreat here, away from the mounting tension at the White House, had been a necessity. Caroline sat down on the plaid sofa that had been a part of this country home for as long as she could remember, only the upholstery had changed from time to time. Justin had overseen the remodeling of the cabin and its well-worn furnishing only a couple of years ago. She closed her eyes and banished the bittersweet memory. That had been the way of it with her and Justin. Bittersweet. Just another thing that only she would understand…that she could share with no one. Well, except Dennis, who happened to be a friend she’d known almost as long as Justin. But there was no time to dwell on that now.
Settling her gaze on her trusted confidant, Caroline urged, “Tell me what you think I should do, Rupert.” She waited for what she knew would be his answer. There was no putting off the issue any longer.
He sat down directly across from her in an overstuffed side chair, upholstered in a nice navy to coordinate with the red, gold and deep-blue plaid of the sofa. “They’re not going to let this go.” He braced his forearms on his spread knees and clasped his hands together. She noticed for the first time how very old her dear friend looked just now. Had the past three months done that to him? It had certainly taken its toll on her.
“Redmond is adamant,” Rupert went on. “He has the whole Cabinet stirred up. Anything we do or say at this point will make us look bad. He has you on tape.”
Caroline winced. She’d had a private meeting with her vice president two weeks ago. She’d shared with him the phone calls and the letter—the letter that oddly had gone missing before she could show it to anyone else. A rundown of incoming and outgoing calls on all lines at the White House as well as her cell phone had shown no unidentified calls, lending credence to the idea that her claims were unfounded.
But she had not imagined the incidents. She had heard Justin’s voice…had read his handwritten note. But she couldn’t prove any of it.
Even more damning were the official appointments she’d forgotten lately. A frown furrowed her brow. She never forgot meetings. Never had to be ushered to an appointment at the last minute. It was hard to believe she had in recent weeks. But the calendar proved her oversights. Even the calendar in her personal digital assistant (PDA) had refuted her insistence that she had not known about the appointments.
She told herself that someone had made a mistake and slipped a new calendar into her PDA and on her desk. Even her personal assistant and staffers reluctantly admitted that they had known about the appointments. Everyone had known about them but her. It felt precisely like a conspiracy…an attempt to make her look incompetent. But that line of thinking was childish and self-serving. Her staff was highly professional. She’d handpicked most of those surrounding her. Why would anyone do something as foolish as setting her up to look incompetent? What would it accomplish?
Other than to make her appear unfit for the office she held.
“If you invoke the Twenty-Fifth Amendment yourself, then you will be in charge to some degree.”
Her head moved from side to side before his statement fully penetrated the haze of confusion clouding her brain. “That would mean—”
“That would mean,” he cut in gently, “that you recognize you need a break to pull yourself together. It would be temporary,” he added with an emphatic nod of his head. “You would hold the power to set a time limit on that leave of absence. I would recommend two weeks for a start. This would take the heat off while throwing a bone to the hounds nipping at your heels.”
She didn’t like this. She didn’t like it at all. “And what are the people who put me in this office supposed to think?” She rocketed to her feet, rubbed her damp palms against her slacks and started to pace. “They entrusted me with the highest office in the land, I can’t let them down. Not without just cause. I have not failed to fulfill the requirements of my post.”
Rupert propped his chin on his hands and considered her words for a time. “I agree. But the issue is not your demeanor at the moment or whether you’ve fulfilled the obligations of your post. It’s about your actions over the past weeks and months. The little things plucked from here and there. We have to face facts here. If we don’t do it, they will, and then the power will belong to the other side.”
Caroline threw her hands up. “When did Steve Redmond become the other side? The man I chose—asked personally—to be my running mate?” Even as she made the demands she knew Rupert was right. Within days of his taking office, her vice president’s personality had changed. He was no longer the kind, enthusiastic supporter she had thought him to be. He argued her every point, blatantly attempted to cast her in a bad light before both the House and the Senate. Considering what he had the courage to say in her presence she scarcely dared think what he said behind her back. Now, if the rumors were true, he’d set his aim on the public by leaking suggestions to the press that she was falling apart.
The man epitomized the term traitor.
He had betrayed her.
Just as Justin had.
Caroline pushed that last thought from her mind. She refused to replay those memories. The past was gone…dead. She shuddered but quickly caught herself and steeled her emotions.
Rupert stood, tucked his hands into his trouser pockets and jingled his change. Despite present circumstances she almost smiled, remembering the dozens and dozens of other times he’d done that very thing. “I have a bad feeling that he was always on the other side. We were either too blind to see it or simply didn’t want to. He was an excellent choice as a running mate. Drew in the older male votes when your being female would never have garnered votes from those old codgers.”
Maybe Rupert was right. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to see Redmond for what he was. Well, it was definitely too late now. She perched back onto the edge of the couch. Most likely her trusted friend was right about the other as well. Maybe she did need a break from everything. If a simple vacation had been sufficient she wouldn’t be in this predicament now. Nothing had changed the feelings of dread and anxiety she suffered, not even medication. Dennis, Dr. Patrick, one of her oldest and dearest friends, had prescribed a mild sedative for temporary use. It hadn’t helped. Not really. Nor did it change the way she felt. No one would ever convince her that she hadn’t heard her dead husband’s voice on the phone or read his handwriting in the form of a faxed note.
And yet, looking back, was she really sure of what she’d heard and seen? Could her mind be playing tricks on her? The search team had deemed the crash unsurvivable. Her husband, along with four others counting the pilot, were dead.
Had the long years of overachieving and hard work going all the way back to high school finally caught up with her? Or was it merely guilt? Did a part of her desperately want the opportunity to change the last words she’d spoken to her husband?
She moved to where Rupert stood and held out her hands. He placed his in them without hesitation. The warmth and concern she saw in his eyes firmed her resolve.
“I know you’re right. Better to be in charge of the situation than the other way around. As it happens, I’m still in charge and I intend to work this situation to my advantage. What’s our first step?”
Rupert smiled and nodded once. “You dictate a letter indicating that you…” His voice trailed off for a moment and he cleared his throat. “A letter indicat
ing that you feel the need to relinquish power for a period of two weeks, and say that at the end of that time you will determine if an additional commitment is needed.”
She swallowed back the bile rising in her throat and moistened her lips. She’d worked so hard to get to this point, had so many plans for the nation. How could this happen? How could she allow it to happen?
Rupert obviously read the hesitancy in her eyes. “Women came out to vote for you in masses, Caroline. It was those votes that pushed you over the top. I’ll wager there isn’t a female in the country who won’t understand what you’ve been through and sympathize completely.”
He was right again. She knew he was. But that didn’t make the decision any easier.
She drew in a deep, bolstering breath and nodded her agreement. “Call in my immediate staff. Let’s get this done.”
As Rupert went to do as she’d asked, Caroline uttered a silent, urgent prayer. Dear God, let this be the right thing for our great nation.
O’RILEY WATCHED intently as Dr. Fitzgerald unraveled the final layer of gauze bandage from the Enforcer’s face. Congressman Winslow stood at O’Riley’s side, his gaze, too, riveted on the unveiling.
The Enforcer’s name was Cain. He was their first genetically engineered creation. A near-perfect human. His body’s incredible ability to heal itself from almost anything practically overnight had enabled the necessary—extensive—cosmetic surgery.
“You’re sure using Cain is not a mistake?” Winslow asked under his breath.
O’Riley wished there was a simple answer to that question. Cain was a truly incredible man. Strong, highly intelligent, a photographic memory and trained like no other agent or operative on the planet. Enforcers possessed cutting-edge skills in every manner of defense, were fluent in more than a dozen languages and had elevated sensory perceptions that bordered on psychic ability. But none of those reasons had set Cain apart from the others. All Enforcers possessed those skills.
Cain had two things that the others didn’t. The exact physical build and coloring required for the mission. And, the uncanny, almost eerie ability to mimic anything he heard. He was the only Enforcer with that particular skill. The others could learn to imitate speech, but not like Cain. His imitation was no imitation. It was real. Hell, the man could even fool a voice analyzer.
“He’s the only one for the job,” O’Riley replied to his nervous leader. “No one else has the right build or the mimicking ability to be ready on this kind of short notice.” Not to mention his unequalled photographic memory.
Even with that knowledge, O’Riley understood Winslow’s hesitation. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t considered the one problem related to utilizing Cain. He had—at length. Cain, being their first, also bore the one mistake made by the creative minds behind the Enforcers.
He lacked any measurable level of human emotion. O’Riley had to admit that Cain had learned to compensate for the disadvantage, still, he more often proceeded on the basis of single-minded determination and primal instinct than on reason and assessment.
They had no time to properly prepare anyone else, even if one of the others had met the physical requirements.
The only complex step that had been necessary to ensure Cain’s readiness was the plastic surgery to get the facial features right. Just the right scarring had taken care of other telltale indicators that he might be an impostor. Giving him a new set of fingerprints had been a fairly simple laser procedure that still boggled O’Riley’s mind. Enough scarring was purposely left to facilitate their game plan. Medical had even come up with an injection that would fool any DNA tests that might unknowingly be performed. The injection would only last for seven days before another would be required. Still, like everything else at Center, it was ingenious.
“Just remember,” Winslow said as the final strip of gauze was unwound, “his selection was your decision.”
O’Riley grunted. Wasn’t it always? Just like the other time they had used Cain in a situation where a partner would not be available to temper his actions, this was necessary. His mission was simple. Get close to the principal and keep her safe at all costs while maintaining his cover.
The doctor stepped away, fully revealing Cain sitting on the end of the treatment table.
Winslow’s breath caught sharply. “Merciful God in heaven,” he murmured.
O’Riley smiled.
Perfect.
“Amazing job, Fitzgerald,” he said to the beaming doctor. “No way will anyone ever suspect that this is not Justin Winters.”
Chapter Two
Caroline stared long and hard at the letter her secretary had transcribed. Tension thickened around her as her gaze slid lower to linger on the signature line. If she signed this document there was no turning back. Section Four of the Twenty-Fifth Amendment would be invoked, relieving her of authority and placing the safekeeping of this nation in the hands of the vice president.
It was only temporary, she reminded herself. Two weeks. Fourteen days. Then, unless she confessed to some continued lack in her ability or someone could prove her incompetence and manipulate a majority vote of the Cabinet, she would resume the office.
But was it the right thing to do?
The citizens counted on her to do the right thing. To make decisions as to their best interests. She thought about her father and knew without doubt that he would never have relinquished power in this manner. Certain death would have been all that could have kept him from executing his duties. She’d always considered herself cut from that same cloth. How could she feel so uncertain now? So, out of place in her own skin?
The voice…the letter came back to her in a mad rush, filling her ears with the sound of Justin’s voice, blurring her eyes with the sting of emotion as she envisioned the bold strokes of his handwriting. How could she have imagined such things? Surely she was stronger than that. It wasn’t as if she and Justin had—
“Caroline.”
Rupert’s voice tugged her from the painful thoughts. She looked up as he crossed the room. He’d insisted that everyone give her some privacy while she gathered her thoughts and executed this final executive order.
“Yes.” He only called her by her first name when no one was around to hear the familiarity between them or when he needed her full attention and it did not appear forthcoming. Rupert stood staunchly on formality and he darn sure didn’t want anyone thinking he’d only gotten the job because he’d been a close friend of her father’s. She smiled as her gaze met his, but the expression quickly slipped. Something was wrong. Her pulse reacted instantly to the combination of worry and excitement in his eyes. She rose from her chair, leaving the letter on the desk…forgotten. “What’s happened?”
“Caroline.” He took her by the shoulders. “They’ve found him.”
For a second that turned into five she couldn’t fathom what he meant by the simple statement. They’d found whom? Then she knew.
“Where?” The single word whooshed out on the last of the oxygen in her lungs.
“I don’t know all the details yet.” Emotion glistened in his eyes. “I just know that Justin is alive. He’s in a hospital in Mexico City. We’ve got Air Force One standing by to take you there now. The vice president has been apprised of the situation. We should leave now.”
Justin was alive.
Her heart leapt. Thank God.
Caroline strode from the room, Rupert at her side. Her security detail fell into step with her. She didn’t question the second chance she’d abruptly been given. Didn’t slow to analyze or even ask about the few details that Rupert might or might not know. Justin was alive. That’s all that mattered.
She climbed into the waiting armored SUV and the rest of the entourage moved into place without hesitation. Similar vehicles assembled in front of as well as to the rear of the one in which she and Rupert rode. All but two members of her security detail would be in tow. All other staffers, other than her personal secretary, remained behind.
The
familiar comfort of the cabin that had been in her family for more than half a century faded out of sight as they moved down the long gravel drive.
The letter typewritten on the distinguished presidential letterhead that revealed her professed vulnerability lay unsigned and forgotten on her desk. She should have destroyed it before she rushed away. But she wouldn’t think of that until much later.
By then it would be too late.
Unspecified Location
“HOW COULD YOU have allowed this to happen?” He glared at the other man allowing him to see as well as hear how deeply displeased he was. Fury whipped through him, making him want to tear the man’s head off with his bare hands. This sort of mistake was intolerable.
“There were no survivors,” the pathetic excuse of a man argued plaintively. “We searched the crash area. The pilot was dead. The aircraft—”
“But you didn’t track down the other bodies.”
He shook his head in defeat. “We thought they’d burned up or were scattered over the countryside. The condition of the aircraft—”
“Yet you didn’t bother to verify that possibility.”
The man shook his head once more. “There just wasn’t any way they could have survived,” he offered thinly.
“And yet Justin Winters did.” And he knew. Winters had double-crossed them. He had evidence of what they were up to. That evidence could not reach the enemy’s hands. Though most likely any tangible evidence had been destroyed in the crash, Winters could very well tell what he’d seen and heard. That would be a somewhat softer blow, but the impact would still be far too great for comfort.
A final decision had to be made now.
If she learned the truth, then it would only be a matter of hours or minutes before the Collective was informed.
He couldn’t let that happen.
“Justin Winters is not to leave that country alive.” He fixed his underling with a gaze that left no room for question. “I want anyone who has had contact with him to this point dead. Today. Do you understand?”
