“Humph! What about Reed? I dare say he isn’t any closer to eliminating Monroe than we are. Am I right?”
“I’ll have him tell you himself.”
Pendleton dialed Reed’s cell phone and pressed the Conference button.
After a moment, Reed answered, “Yes.”
“Thomas, I’m with our Prime Minister. Give us an update.”
“Roger that. The U.S. Army scrubbed their stack of Stinger-RMP-Block I units last year. They destroyed all but two for fear of use by terrorists. I knew where those two firing units and missiles were lost in plain sight.”
“Where were they?” Pendleton asked.
“At the Yuma Proving Ground in Arizona collecting dust. The Army tested newer models against them in 1996. These two units were never used and were still housed there until my team procured them.”
“These are old weapons? Why not go modern?”
“Simplicity, two of my people fired these reliable old weapons in past lives. The electronics are simple. The elaborate sensing devices aboard the helicopter may have trouble identifying missiles like these. At 2000 feet, the missile hits in seconds.”
“So our Twenty-first century nemesis will be killed by a 1960’s type weapon,” Pendleton said.
Claymore’s face wrinkled with disdain. “Fitting since the man’s a throwback to the other President Monroe and his ludicrous Monroe Doctrine.”
“The weapon’s practical,” Reed continued. “The unit only weighs thirty-five pounds fully armed. The best part—it’s free, and they won’t find out it’s gone until we fire it.”
“Don’t underestimate them on that,” Pendleton said. “Plan as though they’re only an hour behind you.”
“Although I’d love to see him dead, let’s hope Monroe loses tomorrow’s vote,” Claymore said. “Then we can back down on our plan. If Martin’s done his job, Holman’s vote seals the election for Russell. With Russell and Edmunds in office, the U.S. military follows right behind.”
#
Back in her room, Peacock rifled through Martin’s papers, taking pictures of everything in his briefcase and sending them to Polaris. After deleting the photos off her camera, she opened Martin’s cell phone and read the names and numbers of everyone listed in his phonebook.
She removed the cell battery, smashed the phone, and relaxed. Martin’s phone wouldn’t ring again. The briefcase was a different problem. A quality-leather and metal attaché presented a challenge.
“How should I dispose of the briefcase?” she asked.
Polaris didn’t respond for a moment. Then he said, “Sorry, I’m having some technical difficulty. Go outside to the hotel dumpster bank. Take the small blue vial in your kit with you. Use your mask and gloves. Pour a splash on the phone and empty the vial on the case. Toss both into one of the dumpsters. The briefcase and phone will dissolve in a matter of hours. Mission accomplished.”
“When I get back I’m taking a nap.”
If Arthur failed to return to the room by six, she’d head to the bar and wait for him.
#
Peacock arrived at the dumpster, looked around, and seeing she was alone, put on her gas mask. If the chemicals would dissolve briefcases, what would they do to her lungs? She opened the vial, poured the chemical as instructed, and pitched the cell phone and briefcase into the dumpster.
“It’s smoking,” she whispered.
“Leave. In less than fifteen minutes the smoke will stop.”
She hustled away. She didn’t want to be near that dumpster. Taking a shower was the only thing on her mind.
Chapter 23
A knock on the door awaken Peacock. Pendleton opened it and called, “Lovey, are you napping?”
Killing Martin must have used up more energy than she thought. “Yes, darling, I’m afraid you caught me.”
“All my meetings are over. What’s say we call dinner up and spend the evening together?”
The thought of spending time with her husband enlivened her. She and Pendleton alone, talking about anything but the election or the troubles of the world.
She couldn’t shake the look on Martin’s face—or Daphne and Nash’s faces when their deaths came. Though she never saw their eyes when they died, her parents and her brother’s eyes leaped out from the recesses of her mind. They were dying all over again, and she could feel the heat of the flames.
I don’t have a conscience.
She commanded the vision to go back where it came from. But she couldn’t control her thoughts. No command kept her mind from seeing their eyes.
“I’d love to relax with you,” she said, hoping to blot out the images. “Let’s tell our life’s stories to each other.”
“Let’s read the Kama Sutra.”
Men. Sex before intimacy.
“Why read it? We can pop passages up on the Internet.” Tears ran down her face, salty and warm. “I love you, as much as I can possibly love anyone. Whatever happens in the future, I want you to know.”
His jaw quivered. He rushed to her side. “What’s wrong, Lovey?”
“Nothing’s wrong. Feelings I haven’t experience for years are swelling up inside me. I can barely hold them all.”
Pendleton’s body thawed like a melting iceberg. Sweat and tears covered his face. “Don’t say a word. Just let me hold you.”
The concept of time dissipated as she melded into him. He remained rocklike as she convulsed from long bridled memories. His touch soothed her, and he didn’t ask a question. She was an adulteress, a murderess, and a pawn in a dangerous political game. Her commitments bound her to those paths.
Could he still love me if he knew I worked for his enemy?
She hadn’t planned on falling in love.
Could she walk away from tonight and betray him? Yes, betray him and still adore him. That seemed to be her fate.
Would she cause his death as Carman caused Don Jose’s? Or would he cause her death like Othello and Desdemona? She looked at the clock. He’d been holding her for almost an hour. She smiled up at him. “Order us a bottle of wine, whatever wine you think best. I promise you the time of your life.”
“You give me the time of my life over and over. You’ve never needed wine to be the best.”
“Sometimes memories need painted over. Tonight’s one of those nights.”
“Whatever my love requires,” he said.
He picked up the phone and dialed room service.
#
“She’s lost perspective.” Kolb tossed an, I told you so, glare at Ursa.
“Watch her performance,” Ursa snapped. “It’s what she does that counts. Right?”
“Wrong, at least in part,” Kolb spat back. “True, she’s delivered crucial information to us. But she’s teetering on an emotional ravine. If she cracks our mission suffers a massive blow.”
“I’m not allowing you to turn her into either a zombie or a homicidal maniac. She’ll deliver what we need.” Ursa paced, as Kolb studied Peacock’s brainwave scans. “So what if she’s developing feelings for Pendleton. She’s handling her assignment perfectly.”
“Don’t force me to go above you.”
“You already have. You didn’t succeed.”
Kolb stood and turned away from her data scan. In the control lab, Carna and Polaris carried out normal duties appearing unaware of the coming storm. Ursa gathered himself together for her onslaught. But she surprised him. Instead of a violent tirade, she sighed and leaned against her desk.
“Let’s compromise,” she said.
#
Peacock’s state-of-consciousness swung in and out. She knew she’d slept some, but she didn’t really have her full faculties until around three in the afternoon. She shouldn’t have insisted on the second bottle. Pendleton charmed her with his knowledge. She drank and he talked. She realized she was laughing. They were out in the German countryside flying about in her Ultimate Aero joking and singing. Her head ached, but she was happy. Pendleton drove, interrupted only by an occ
asional W.F.C. problem call.
Peacock absorbed the quality of the man the whole time. Pendleton professed his undying love for her. She lavished him with praise. He never once mentioned her night of drinking. He’d simply enjoyed himself the past twelve hours. For the first time in her life, she’d lost herself in the company of another human being. She vowed where Pendleton was concerned, this wouldn’t be her last time.
They pulled into the hotel parking garage and went back to their room. The House vote in the United States Congress was approaching, and she had to push her mind into spy mode. That bastard Holman would most likely vote for Russell, even after her affair with him. Her ego steamed.
Peacock popped three aspirins and forced her body to do what she said.
“Ursa thinks you’re either a genius or developing a conscience.”
Polaris had been talking to her incessantly for an hour. She didn’t want to hear anymore. Fortunately, Pendleton had stepped into the shower so she could reply.
“I’m neither. I got drunk. I’ve sobered up. This won’t happen again.”
“What about the, ‘I love you, Arthur, as much as I can possibly love anyone. Whatever happens in the future, I want you to know,’ speech?”
Come on Peacock say something to shut him up.
“I don’t love anyone or anything. So I didn’t lie. I love him as much as I can possibly love anyone, which is impossible. Now leave the subject alone.”
Polaris grumped a bit, but he did as instructed.
Pendleton came out of the bathroom prepared to celebrate victory. “Ready? Our guests await us in the Gold Room.”
Peacock took her husband’s arm and accompanied him in the elevator to the Mezzanine and then to the Gold Room. He opened the door and whispered. “Let me make the introductions.”
As they entered, eight casually dressed men and two women stood and applauded. Pendleton took a step toward them, arms opened wide. He beamed charisma, enthralling his audience. At first, she was sure he was going to ignore her. He was so wrapped up in self-adulation. But he turned and offered her his arm.
“My fellow World Financial Corporation members and my friends meet Laverna Smythe–Pendleton, my wife.”
“Make sure each of them gives you their name,” Polaris said.
Peacock turned her charm up, walked to the closest guest, and extended her hand.
“Milton Rogers,” the balding old man said, his breath smelling a bit like garlic gone overboard. “I can see why Arthur is so enthralled.”
“I’m flattered. What do you do for the W.F.C?”
Rogers grinned. “My sweet Laverna, my roles are many and varied. Presently, I’m working in Australia maneuvering the South Pacific banks into a position of leadership against the Chinese. But I’m a Brit and won’t be abroad long.”
Rogers’ bushy eyebrows and sparkling eyes said he could be trusted.
“Readying the world for the big take-over?”
“Arthur’s the one who can do it.” He took her by the arm and whispered in her ear. “I’d protect him with my life if needs be.”
“I’m glad he has friends like you.”
She waltzed from person to person asking for little tidbits of information all the while swallowing the void expanding in her soul. She didn’t know what love really was. She did know that Arthur was more precious to her than anyone had been since the accident.
Harden yourself, Peacock.
Be the calculating, unfeeling, and the deadly bitch that you are—a machine created to save your nation. Don’t forget your mission even when you’re with Arthur.
#
“New Hampshire passes for now.”
Pendleton shot to his feet. “What’s Holman doing?”
“Hedging his bets,” Peacock said. She perceived that to be the most logical choice of motives. “Don’t be surprised if Vermont does the same thing.”
Pendleton pulled out his cell phone.
“What are you doing?” Rogers asked.
“Calling Martin.”
Peacock’s mind jumped to their hotel room. She’d removed the battery. She’d smashed the phone. She’d disposed of them both in the hotel trash dumpster. She was safe. Peacock continued counting the votes as each State’s representative came to the microphone. She listened for any reaction from Pendleton.
“Damn him. The bloke’s not answering.”
He kicked over an ash stand, his face tight and red. “He’s probably larging it somewhere with our money.”
Peacock almost laughed, but she bit her lip to stop herself. Martin was definitely not larging it with Pendleton’s money.
He turned to Peacock. “Maybe you should leave for a while.”
She wasn’t leaving.
“Ridiculous. I want Russell to win as much as you do. Remember I arranged the meeting. Holman’s playing a political game. If he doesn’t have to vote against Monroe for Monroe to lose, he keeps your money and his political future.”
Pendleton’s countenance darkened. “How did you know I paid Holman?”
“Oh don’t look so shocked, Darling. We all know you paid him. You didn’t have to tell me. I’d figured out what you were doing when I arranged his meeting with Martin. I didn’t have to be a rocket scientist.”
Laughter, and a few “Right you are, Lovey’s” broke the tension.
Pendleton grinned. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Continue on with the counts, everyone. I’ll excuse myself and make another call.”
“He’s calling Reed.” Ursa’s voice resounded in her head. “You need to get your hands on Pendleton’s cell phone and give us the numbers. Good job. Tonight’s going very well.”
Why was Ursa happy? Wasn’t Monroe going to lose? Wasn’t Holman the bastard to sink him? She shook her head and kept counting.
Pendleton stepped back into the room. His face still furrowed and eyes narrow. “What’s the count?”
“They’ve completed the roll,” Rogers said. “Laverna was right. New Hampshire and Vermont both passed. As it stands now, the House is tied at twenty-four votes each.”
“What could those two be discussing?” Pendleton glared at the television.
Holman and the Congressman Keith from Vermont were in a huddle. Then the Speaker of the House called New Hampshire for a vote. Holman walked up to the microphone with Keith at his side. “My colleague and I have decided to put an end to this exhausting process. New Hampshire votes for Monroe.”
Pendleton screamed, “The bloody piker betrayed us.”
Congressman Keith did the same. Congress and gallery erupted into a chaotic flurry of activity. Reporters raced to surround Keith and Holman. Monroe had pulled off the impossible and won. Peacock’s ego soared. Maybe she’d done her job well after all.
“Go back to our room.” Pendleton glared at her and stomped his foot. “I’m about to have a fit. I don’t want you present to see it.”
“Yes. That’s best.”
The frightening looks on the faces of those present convinced her. There wasn’t a noise in the room. No paper shuffling or breathing could be heard. Peacock thought about a tornado she’d seen twelve years earlier in Oklahoma. An eerie calm fell before the swirling greenish funnel and cloud passed. A cloud now fell on the Gold Room. Only this time the green was visible in the faces of those present.
She hurried out and pushed the door closed.
#
The hotel room door squeaked opened at three in the morning. Peacock leaned up on her elbows, but Pendleton pushed her back down. The smell of alcohol burned in her nostrils.
“There, there, sweetheart,” she said. “I’m here. Take what you need.”
He slammed a fist against the headboard, cursed, and then growled and swore as he relieved himself. After a few moments, he kissed her and his tears fell down and rolled along her face.
“Oh Lovey,” he said, “I hate to lose.”
He passed out.
She rolled him over and undressed him. She put his wallet and
keys on his dresser. With Pendleton’s cell phone in her hands, she followed Ursa’s instructions and sent his address book to Hercules. She crawled back into bed to try to sleep.
Peacock rolled restlessly as she drifted off. Marriage should be for better or worse. She was an adulteress ten times over. Today, her marriage to Hercules was for the better. Her marriage to Pendleton was for the worse. Tomorrow? Who knew? She’d done a good job, but she didn’t have sweet dreams.
Chapter 24
Thomas Reed hummed “I Only Wanna Dance with You.” He meticulously brushed and flossed his teeth with the beat of the Bay City Rollers blasting over his sound system. His hands scrubbed immaculately clean, Reed turned off the music and picked up a nail file. He worked on his nails as he walked through his house to his communications lab. The American election was a bust. Rain poured down in Lasswade, and he had the pleasurable task of ordering a presidential assassination. What a beautiful day.
He switched on his satellite units and waited until Morgan, Van Meer, and Dunn had all hooked in.
“What can we assume Hercules knows?” Reed asked.
“Assume they know we’re here in the States,” Van Meer said. “Assume they’re looking for us. Assume it’s a game of fox and hounds, and we’re the fox.”
Van Meer lifted weights in his condo, shirt off, and muscles dripping with sweat.
“Yes, we’re correct to assume they know.”
Dunn and Morgan ate breakfast in their apartment and glanced up at the satellite feed every so often.
“Assume the bloody Homeland Security people know our documents were forged,” Morgan said, then took a bite of his omelet. “They also know the Stingers never arrived at the Armargosa Valley Test Range.”
“We have an urgency to strike soon and not miss. How’s that plan coming?”
“We’re making practice runs to two pre-selected locations,” Dunn said. “We never use the same route. During each run, we set-up, load, and lock in on Marine One. All we’re waiting for is you now, Reed, ole man.”
Room 1515 Page 16
