Executive Bodyguard (The Enforcers)

by Debra Webb

  Justin had never been a particularly courageous man. A good man. An ambitious man. But not uncommonly brave. That he held his composure so well during the crisis felt…odd. Giving him grace, Dr. Hernandez had warned her that he was not the same man she’d last seen before he’d departed on that ill-fated journey to Brazil. She’d spoken to him once during his three-day business trip to Rio De Janeiro. The conversation had been clipped, his tone distant. Then she hadn’t heard from him again. He and the others, including one Secret Service agent, had boarded the company jet for the return trip, not to be heard from again. Until now.

  “President Winters, are you certain I can’t get you some more coffee or a soft drink?” Chief of Police Parnell asked again. “The same goes for anyone else,” he said to the room at large.

  When Caroline declined, Agent Copeland, as well as the rest of the security detail, followed suit. Rupert and Justin did the same. There were times when she felt certain those around her went without what they really wanted so as not to react differently from her.

  “Pizza would be good,” she suggested on second thought, knowing none of her people had bothered with lunch and the dinner hour was looming. “Can we get something delivered?”

  “Why, yes, ma’am.” The chief literally beamed. At last he had something to do. She could see the excitement in his eyes. “Any particular kind? Soft drinks too?”

  A mere forty-five minutes later, large pizzas with the works and cold soft drinks had been served all around. The pizza delivery boy had arrived with the goods as well as a disposable camera in hopes of getting his picture taken with the president. When security pressed the issue the chief admitted that the young man was his nephew. A collective sigh of relief flowed over the room and for no other reason than she felt the need to give the chief a break, Caroline agreed to the picture—much to Rupert’s dismay.

  When the group was occupied with devouring the warm pizza, Caroline used the moment of quiet to study Justin again. His movements, his mannerisms were the same. Deliberate, precise. If she had to pinpoint one characteristic that was purely Justin it would be his careful deliberation of his every word and deed. He rarely spoke or moved out of turn. That had not changed. Funny, she mused, how some things were different, like his voice and the lack of sparkle in his eyes, while other things stayed exactly the same. She imagined his voice was rusty from the months of disuse while in a coma.

  She wanted a full physical and mental evaluation ASAP.

  It wasn’t that she doubted the competence of the physician in Mexico City, but Justin’s personal physician knew his history. Knew him. He would more quickly pick up on anything that proved out of sync.

  “Are you holding up all right?” she asked him when he caught her staring at him. She shivered before she could catch herself, startled once more by the impact of his eyes. That cool distance cut right through her.

  “I’m fine now,” he said in that voice that sounded too deep and too gravelly. “And you?”

  Was she okay? On one level she was great. Justin was alive. She thanked God yet again for the miracle. But things were off somehow. She felt disconnected in ways she couldn’t quite label.

  “I’m all right.” She smiled warmly at him. “Shaken, but all right.”

  He returned her smile and it was the same lopsided expression he’d flashed her hundreds of times before. Her pulse reacted in a way that it hadn’t in a very long time. What made it feel different now?

  Maybe she was simply functioning on the adrenaline rush of outright panic and its inescapable drain. A lot had happened the past few days. The trouble with Redmond and her Cabinet. Learning that Justin was alive and then the near-crash, it was all catching up to her now.

  Sleep was the answer. She needed to rest her mind.

  Before she had time to analyze the situation further, a second security detail arrived, along with new pilots who would fly Caroline, Justin and Rupert to Andrews Air Force Base. The remainder of the group would follow on a civilian airliner.

  Incredibly her press secretary stormed into the conference room amid the fresh lot of Secret Service personnel.

  “Aaron?” She tried to read what was behind his grave expression as he approached but proved unsuccessful. “You needn’t have come all this way.”

  And he wouldn’t have, she knew, unless something was wrong.

  Aaron Miller, along with Greg Levitt, the agent no doubt in charge of the new arrivals, ushered Caroline and Rupert to a quiet corner of the room. “We have some new intelligence that you’re going to want to hear, Madam President.”

  Rupert frowned. Caroline felt the same creases in her expression. “What kind of intelligence?” Rupert asked.

  “Madam President,” Levitt said, derailing anything she would have asked, “we received a threat on your life at the same time the plane started to give the pilot trouble.”

  The implications of that statement slammed into her hard. “You’re certain of that?” She had to ask, though she knew this discussion would not be happening otherwise.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Levitt assured her, “we are. Shortly after we learned that Air Force One had managed a safe landing, we received another threat.”

  “Whoever is behind this may know where we are,” Rupert said quickly, his voice taking on an urgency that unsettled Caroline more so than anything Levitt could have said.

  “What is your recommendation?” she asked the deliverer of the bad news. Copeland had started in their direction. He would have gotten a heads-up on this already. Since he hadn’t mentioned it to her, she assumed the news had come only moments before Levitt’s arrival.

  “We’re going to take you to a safe location for the moment, Madam President, then we’ll go from there.”

  Caroline shook her head. No. This was what the terrorists behind this act wanted. “I see no reason to treat this threat any differently than any other. We’ll go back to the White House as scheduled.”

  Levitt deferred to Copeland with a covert look that spoke volumes. A sinking feeling dragged at Caroline’s stomach.

  “Ma’am,” Copeland began somberly, “This isn’t just any threat. Whoever made this threat got to Air Force One. The Captain has already zeroed in on the problem. There was an electronic device planted to interfere with the plane’s fuel system. Whoever put it there never intended for the plane to actually go down, it was simply a warning. A timer on the device only permitted it to be operational for a few minutes. Just long enough for us to have to make an emergency landing.”

  “This threat has to be coming from the inside, ma’am,” Levitt continued. “No one else knew your precise agenda. No one else could have gotten to the plane.”

  Redmond was the first name that came to mind but Caroline held her tongue. That plummeting sensation that had started in her stomach was spiraling upward, turning her worry into outright fury. First the bizarre calls and the note, then the near-crash…now this.

  For the first time since she’d learned that Justin was alive she suddenly wondered about the calls and the note. Had someone at the hospital figured out who he was and decided to play some sick game? She rejected that theory. Whoever had made those calls had known the right number to call, hadn’t gone through the switchboard.

  Her gaze sought and found Justin where he sat with his eyes closed, resting, weary from it all. Could he have made those calls? Unknowingly, of course. The doctor had insisted he’d been in a coma the whole time. Had he acted out the calls for help while lost in that zone between sleeping and waking? He might not even know he’d made the calls. Whether or not the calls came from the hospital would be easy to verify. And yet the White House lines showed no unidentified incoming calls. Nothing. No indication whatsoever that she had received any such calls.

  Caroline looked to Rupert. “What’s your assessment of the situation, Mr. Downy?” It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her own instincts, but she wanted a second opinion.

  “Let’s not take any chances, Madam Presiden
t. You’d already committed to some time off,” Rupert offered frankly. “Aaron can handle the press conference. We’ll let the people know that Justin is alive and that you’re taking some time with him. Meanwhile we’ll work on getting to the bottom of…this situation.”

  No one wanted to say out loud the truth that sat like a stone on her chest. A mole had gotten close enough to have her agenda on short notice…to have access to her means of transportation.

  Caroline looked around the room with as much denial as disbelief. It could be anyone. Firming her resolve, her gaze landed back on Levitt. She trusted the people in this room. There had to be another explanation. She would give them three days to complete their assessment then she was getting back to her life…to her duties.

  “You have seventy-two hours,” she said, her tone leaving no room for discussion. “I’ll take a short hiatus in a safe location and manage any situation that arises from there. But no more. Seventy-two hours only. Then I’m returning to the White House whether you’ve found the traitor or not.” Another little voice inside her wanted to shout Redmond’s name. But she didn’t have to do that. Levitt and Copeland were both well aware of the animosity between their president and vice president. Redmond would be the first suspect on their list. “On Monday evening I have that graduation. I will be there.”

  Rupert groaned. “Madam President, we need to—”

  “My mind is made up,” she cut him off. “I’m not going to play dead for these people. We should keep this out of the media,” she said with that thought. “No one needs to know. The engine malfunctioned today. End of story. Let’s not give these bastards the satisfaction of seeing their work on the national news.”

  Aaron nodded. “Done. I’ll issue that statement as well as the news about Justin at the same time, Madam President.”

  Caroline watched Justin for a moment while Rupert and the two agents carried on with the discussion. He was so very still. And yet there was an energy about him. Something she’d never noticed before. Odd.

  What other changes, she suddenly wondered, had his up close encounter with death inspired?

  Three days of quiet with little or no distraction. She imagined that she would know the answer to that question very soon. The real question was, was she ready for the answer? She wondered vaguely why running a country at times felt easier than the balancing act of marriage.

  Safe House

  Classified Location

  AS THE SUV rolled up the long drive, Cain surveyed the dark setting. It was almost midnight now. They’d landed at Andrews Air Force Base and then taken ground transportation from there. The president’s senior advisor and press secretary had loaded into a decoy vehicle to draw the press away from the base. The diversion had worked like a charm. Minutes after the last of the paparazzi had left, the vehicle he and Caroline occupied had moved through the gate.

  The security detail was lighter than Cain had expected. Only six men, but, according to Caroline, they were the best. He wasn’t worried, though he hadn’t allowed her to see his level of comfort.

  As they neared their destination now, he watched her through the darkness. The dim lights from the dash of the vehicle spared little illumination in the back seat but Cain had excellent night vision. Like a cat, he mused.

  She was more attractive than the pictures and videos he’d seen. Perhaps it was the vulnerability he sensed in her now that softened her usual tough edge. Caroline Winters was an independent woman, one who was intimidated by little if anything at all. Yet something had managed to get under her skin. Cain suspected it was far more than the current threat to her life, which had been staged for this very purpose.

  Center needed her out of the limelight, hidden away until the real threat could be assessed. Whoever intended to remove her from office would be far more subtle than today’s showy display.

  Cain’s mission was to protect her at all costs while Center ferreted out the force behind the intelligence they had recently uncovered. The only way to be completely sure of her safety and, at the same time, leave her open for approach was to do exactly as they had.

  The Lazarus Mission.

  The resurrection of her dead husband had been the only way to get someone close to her without anyone suspecting just who would be protecting her. Complete secrecy was essential. When the mission was complete her husband would disappear once more. Only this time he would stay dead.

  A small two-story home came into view beyond the headlights. Picket fence, lots of flowering shrubs. It looked like a modern cottage set deep in the woods in a world all its own.

  Only there were a few added precautions for security’s sake. An eight-foot hot-wired fence enclosed the ten acres surrounding the small, harmless-looking house. Trip sensors were scattered over the grounds extending for a thousand feet around the house. Every imaginable precaution had been taken inside the home as well. Bulletproof glass in the windows. Full brick exterior. The materials the home had been constructed of were fire-resistant. The only way anyone would get to her inside this house was to drop a bomb on it.

  And since the air space around it was closely monitored, that wasn’t going to happen without advance warning.

  She would be safe here.

  Cain’s presence would simply ensure that the other humans around her stayed on the right side. He would protect her from anyone with whom she came into contact.

  If the traitor had burrowed in amid her own staffers, he or she would find a way to show up here.

  Cain would be ready.

  He’d never failed in a mission.

  CAROLINE HAD HEARD of this place. The ultimate in “safe houses.” It had been created to protect political refugees who held information the United States wanted. Their safety could be guaranteed while they lived in luxurious—however out-of-the-way—comfort.

  “Everything you and Mr. Winters will need has been provided, Madam President,” Agent Levitt said. “There are eight men on site already. We’ll have six on duty around the clock. Our shifts will be twelve on/twelve off.”

  She nodded. “Excellent. That’ll be all, Agent Levitt.”

  With the final mini-briefing out of the way, Caroline and Justin were left in privacy. Only two agents would actually be inside the house. Levitt or Copeland and one more. The others would man the grounds, which included a fully furnished and stocked guest house in the rear.

  Caroline headed up the stairs. There were two bedrooms, one smaller bedroom and a generous room with an en suite dressing area and bath. Downstairs there was a roomy den, an office with conference table, a dining room and state-of-the-art kitchen. Another smaller office was tucked away near the den.

  Tomorrow morning Caroline intended to have her usual morning briefing with her staff, as well as the usual intelligence updates from the FBI, CIA and NSA. Activities in the Middle East required her near-constant attention, despite the recent strides toward peace in the area. Fuel prices had finally stabilized, but many constituents as well as lobbyists were still up in arms with the costs continuing to hover above what they had been in the early part of the former administration. She had her work cut out for her in those two arenas. There was no reason for her to be uninformed during this time or to rely on secondhand information. Satellite communications ensured she could reach out and touch anyone she needed to, anytime, anyplace, with the highest level of security.

  “Are you tired?” she asked Justin when they’d entered the lovely suite. She felt suddenly nervous in this room with him. As if they hadn’t been married for more than five years. As if the bed were far too intimate an object to share.

  “Yes,” he said in answer though she saw no physical indication that he felt weary. But he must. He’d been hospitalized for months. In a coma most of that time. He must be exhausted just moving about.

  She managed an understanding smile. “Why don’t you go ahead and stretch out? I think I’ll have a long soak in the tub.” She craned her neck from side to side and grimaced at the tight muscles.
“I’m beat.”

  Not waiting for a comment, she crossed to the dressing room and the walk-in closet there. The closet held several days’ attire for both her and Justin. Everything had been taken care of before their arrival. She rummaged around until she found a suitable nightgown, then entered the elegant bath, closing the door behind her.

  As the hot water filled the tub, she tried to reason out the conflicting feelings that had plagued her since hearing that Justin was alive. She closed her eyes and braced her hands on the marble-topped vanity. Relief and gratitude that he was alive surged through her all over again. There was no denying those emotions.

  She opened her eyes and stared at her reflection in the mirror. But where did they go from here?

  Her entire marriage to Justin had been a lie. An ache went through her at the admission. She rarely allowed herself to consider their union in those terms. But it was true. They had known each other since high school, had dated during her last year in law school but the relationship had never been serious. Then as she took office in the Senate, their paths had crossed once more. This time she’d fallen completely for him. He’d tried to discourage her pursuit. But she’d been thirty-two and completely ready for a commitment. She had so loved Justin.

  He’d loved her too. She’d known it with every fiber of her being. And though they had never been intimate he’d insisted that he believed strongly in saving sex for the marriage bed. They’d continued in that manner for a time. Her wanting the big white wedding, him wanting to give the relationship more time—to be absolutely certain it was what they both wanted. In retrospect, she should have seen what was coming.

  Then Rupert approached her about running for president. The next election was four years away, which gave her plenty of time to build a running platform. There were others he’d told her who wanted to see a woman in the Oval Office as well. Powerful men who could make it happen.