by Scott Blade
Li turned into one of the strip malls. The parking lot was relatively empty.
She pulled the car in front of a quaint small town café called Mason’s Tea & Coffee House.
Cameron wasn’t sure if it was owned by a person named Mason or if it was owned by the actual masons. Neither would’ve surprised him because the place had a very masonic feel to it. White building. Marble and stone everywhere. Engravings on the walls, possibly religious. There were thin white pillars out in front of black windows. The place was like a slice of DC outside of the city.
Maybe it was a tourist gimmick—a guy gets off a plane, heads to his motel, which is probably a Comfort Inn or a Holiday Inn or one of those chains, stumbles upon the masonic-looking café and stops in. At least that was the way that Cameron pictured it in his mind.
The weather outside was warm, early September weather. The sky was clear and blue. The sun beat down, but the temperature was probably a balmy seventy degrees.
Off to the back corner of the building, Cameron could see the front end of a black Chevy Tahoe. Tinted black windows. Typical Secret Service vehicle. Cameron imagined there were red and blue sirens embedded in the front grill.
He figured it belonged to Sean Cord.
Li said, “Here we go.”
The patio had five tables with big, green umbrellas. It was relatively dead. There was a good-looking woman sitting with a guy who looked pretty fit. Both were young and had a college kid look about them. No backpacks or anything, but the guy wore a polo shirt with the collar turned up like from the old vampire movies. This was a stupid fashion that Cameron had seen on frat boys before. But he wasn’t judging—to each his own. And Cameron liked pluralism. It was the thing that made America great. He liked walking down a street in Los Angeles or San Francisco or Seattle or some other American port and hearing different languages. He liked places that had both a Little Italy and a Chinatown.
But these two were an odd couple in the sense that they didn’t belong together in terms of fashion. The guy was obviously a frat boy type, but no way was the girl a part of that crowd. No sorority in her life. She had pink hair, one side completely shaved down to stubble just above her ear. She wore all black. Black top, tight and low-cut. Black skirt. Black boots with silver chains linked down the sides like some kind of fashion statement.
Cameron would’ve guessed that maybe they had sat together by mistake, like maybe they were strangers, but they were holding hands, and then they kissed.
On the opposite side from the couple, at the far corner of the patio, was a man in a black suit. He looked Secret Service all the way. Black shoes. Black coat. Black pants. No tie. Small clear earpiece in his ear with a curly cord disappearing beneath his shirt. And, of course, he wore dark sunglasses. He looked like agents did in the movies, only more real life and with an ordinary height and weight. He was older than fifty but not by much. He could probably be mid-fifties. He had black hair that receded a little from his part on the right temple of his head. Cameron wondered what the age limit was for entering the Secret Service. Whatever it was to enter, this guy was way past, but maybe he had been in all of his adult life.
Cameron said, “That must be Cord?”
Li turned the wheel, and the tires jerked the car up over a speed bump near the entrance to the parking lot.
She said, “That’s him.”
“I don’t see any other agents. He’s alone.”
“Yeah.”
Cameron said, “I thought you said he was on duty.”
“He is,” Li said.
“So where’re the rest of the agents?”
“He’s alone.”
“Solo?”
“Yep.”
Cameron said, “Since when does the service assign solo agents?”
Li said, “Ask him. I’m sure he’ll tell you. But I’d better not say anything.”
Cameron stayed quiet, and they parked the car near the back.
Li shut off the engine, and they got out. She left the doors unlocked.
They walked from the back around the side of the café. Cameron let Li walk out in front not because he was letting her lead him, but rather because he wanted to be behind her. To Cameron, the view was far better from behind. He liked it a lot. If he were in front of her, he wouldn’t be able to see her at all.
One of the problems with the nomadic life was that it left him free but alone. In Cameron’s mind, there was no future Mrs. Cameron. There was no white picket fence and no car in the driveway because there would never be a driveway.
He found himself wondering if Jack ever thought about settling down with anyone. He hadn’t settled for Cameron’s mom, but then again, Jack hadn’t even known that she was pregnant.
They walked and turned the corner to the front. Li led him past the young couple and around the entrance to the café and between the large white pillars.
Cord stood up when he saw her and said, “Cameron? You look just like I thought you would.”
Cord spoke with a warmer voice than what Cameron had expected from a Secret Service agent. Although he had never known a Secret Service agent before. He’d only known cops.
Cameron stayed quiet.
Li said, “Cameron, this is Agent Sean Cord. Mr. Cord, this is Cameron.”
Cord held his hand out to Cameron to shake. Cameron accepted it and shook it.
Cord said, “Please, sit down.”
Cameron nodded and took a chair across from him at the table, and Li remained standing.
“I’m sorry to drag you all the way out here, but I need your help,” Cord said.
“You knew Joe?”
“Yes, I did. Well, I knew of him. He was head of financials for a while.”
“So you didn’t know him?”
“I met him. We actually dated the same girl. Not at the same time.”
Cameron stayed quiet.
Cord said, “Her name was Frolic. She died.”
Cameron said, “I’m sorry to hear that.” He didn’t ask more about it. Didn’t think it’d be appropriate.
“She was young. Youngest female agent in a leading role that I ever heard of.”
Cameron nodded.
Cord said, “She was killed by a sniper’s bullet. Just like you see in the movies. Just like what people think of when they think of the United States Secret Service. She literally took a bullet for a protectee. Jumped right out in front of it.” Cord paused a beat and then asked, “Does anyone know you’re here?”
Cameron shrugged. “My lawyer.”
Cord said, “Anyone else? A cousin or friend?”
Cameron said, “I don’t have any of those.”
Li looked over at him.
“I meant cousins. I’m making new friends all the time. But no one knows where I am. Except for you. What’s going on? Why all the questions?”
Cord said, “I lied to you.”
“You lied?”
“Right. I can’t find your father. In fact, that’s not why you’re here.”
Cameron said, “Lied to me to get me here?”
“That’s right. I’m sorry, but we’re desperate.”
“What the hell’s going on?”
“Do you know where Jack is?” Cord asked.
“No. That’s why I came out here. I thought you knew where he was.”
“We don’t. But we sure wish we did.”
“What the hell’s going on?” Cameron repeated.
Cord said, “We’re really hoping you can help us find Jack. But I’m afraid our timetable is significantly short.”
“Can’t you just find him from his bank records? Tax records? Don’t you have all of that Patriot Act shit?”
“That won’t work in our case because checking bank records requires a paper trailer. And tax records are even worse.”
Cameron said nothing about that. Instead, he asked, “What kind of paperwork? Like a search warrant? I thought you guys didn’t need those?”
“Not warrants. But paperwor
k. We just can’t go hacking and searching people’s bank records without having others in the agency know about it. The Secret Service is like any other bureaucracy. There are specialists and departments, and we don’t want that kind of attention. We don’t want to ask one department to do this or that or request inquiries into a drifter. The whole thing would raise eyebrows. We can’t have that. Not now.”
“Why? They’re all your people, right? Aren’t your people sworn to secrecy? So who’s going to talk about your snooping around in bank records from some has-been ex-Army cop?”
Cord said, “It’s complicated.”
Cameron said, “How complicated?”
“It’s a matter of life and death.”
“So why the secrecy? Why Jack?”
Cord paused, and then he said, “Please, take a ride with me. There’s someone who needs to speak to you.”
Cameron asked, “Where?”
“You’ll see. I promise you aren’t in any danger or under any obligation. Just meet with someone. It’s important.”
“You said that,” Cameron said and looked at Li.
She had a blank expression on her face like she had no idea what the hell was going on.
Cord said, “Just listen to what my boss has to say and then make up your mind.”
“Why not? Let’s go.”
“Thank you.” Cord got up and pulled out his wallet, a black leather thing that looked as if it had seen better days. He riffled through it and pulled out a ten-dollar bill and left it under an empty coffee mug on the patio table. He said, “You can follow me. Ride with Li.”
“Okay,” said Li.
And they walked back to their cars and got in them and drove away.
Chapter 23
CORD DROVE THE SPEED LIMIT. Not that he was worried about the police stopping him but because he didn’t want any attention. Li stayed four car lengths behind and used her turn signals just as Cord did.
Cameron stared ahead and stayed quiet.
Li said, “I really have no idea what this is about.”
Cameron said, “I know.”
“I just didn’t want you to think I was keeping something from you.”
“I know. You were ripped from your test yesterday. I believe you.”
Li said, “Good. Because I don’t want you to think I was lying to you. I…”
She stopped talking, and Cameron turned his head and said, “What?”
“Nothing.”
“What is it?”
“I like you. I really wouldn’t lie to a guy that I liked right from the beginning.”
Cameron said, “Beginning of what?”
Li said, “You know. The beginning of whatever this is. For us.”
Cameron stayed quiet because it wasn’t the time to talk about it.
Li said, “What, you don’t think there’s an us?”
“I haven’t had time to process it,” Cameron lied.
“You’re right. It’s only been one day. Not even. Not really. It’s been what, like twenty hours?”
Cameron thought fourteen hours and twenty-seven minutes, but he didn’t say it out loud.
They stayed quiet and drove.
Cord led them onto Freeway 495. The early morning sun shot waves of sunbeams across the sky. They drove on for another thirty-five minutes.
Chapter 24
SEAN CORD TOUCHED THE NAV SCREEN EMBEDDED in his SUV’s dashboard and waited for the female computer voice to speak.
It said, “Hey there, Agent Cord.”
Cord said, “Redial last call.”
The voice said, “Redialing.”
Cord’s iPhone was synced to his dashboard, and the female voice that operated it paused a beat and redialed the phone.
He looked in his rearview mirror and watched as Li and Cameron followed.
A voice answered on the other end of the line and said, “Did you get him?”
The voice was male, older, and had a deep echo of desperation in it.
Cord said, “I got’em. He’s following me now.”
The voice asked, “Does he know where Jack is?”
“No. But we expected he’d have no idea.”
The voice said, “Can he help us?”
“I don’t really know enough about him. He’s young.”
“His father has an impressive Army record.”
Cord said, “Like father, like son. But how true is that?”
The voice said, “Will he help us?”
“I don’t know. We’ll be there in twenty minutes, and you can ask him yourself.”
The desperation almost overwhelming, the voice said, “I hope so.”
And then the person on the other end hung up.
Chapter 25
AFTER ANOTHER TWENTY MINUTES, they followed Cord as he turned off of the freeway and down a string of roads and into a rich-looking subdivision.
Big Victorian houses were perfectly threaded along the streets. Cameron saw high roofs and red brick. Some of the houses had tall walls surrounding the properties.
They followed Cord past a gate that looked more like a checkpoint into a military base than a gate to a residential community.
Li said, “This is where some politicians live.”
Cameron looked around. “Looks expensive. Who else could afford to live here?”
“Staffers live here, too.”
“They make enough to live here?”
Li said, “You’d be surprised what they make. Especially senior staff for the upper politicians. And I think the Speaker of the House’s Chief of Staff lives here.”
Cameron nodded and asked, “So where’re we goin’?”
Li said, “I’ve no idea.”
They trailed close behind Cord as he stopped at intersections and looked both ways and then headed either straight or left or right. And he did all three, each time following the rules of the road to the letter. Cameron couldn’t recall the last time he witnessed someone so strict about their driving. This guy stopped completely at each stop sign and turn before he continued on. And not in the way that most drivers stopped. Even the safest drivers Cameron had seen in his last year on the road weren’t this by-the-book. He couldn’t imagine this guy deviating far from the rules. A side effect of working for the Secret Service, he supposed.
Li said, “Looks like we’re going to that house at the end. And there’s a detail on it.”
Cameron noticed it, too.
The house at the end of the street was red brick with white shutters and one white-trimmed porthole. The house was two stories and set pretty far back on the property. No fence around the yard. No pool. There were two cars in the driveway and two Secret Service SUVs on the street in front, just like the one Cord drove.
He pulled alongside one and waved at a guy who stood at the top of the driveway. Then he pulled up and parked across the street, further from the parked SUVs.
Next door, Cameron saw two Secret Service agents standing post outside of the neighbor’s house. They remained still. Good posture. They gave off the impression that they didn’t move. No matter what.
Li said, “Someone important lives there. Must be a member of Congress or something.”
Li pulled out past Cord’s SUV and parked in front on the street.
She killed the engine and said, “That’s odd.”
Cameron said, “What?”
“The agent Cord waved at. I don’t recognize him.”
Cameron looked at him. He was old—older than Cord. Much older. The guy must’ve been retired. He looked sixty at least. But he was dressed in Secret Service getup. Black suit. No tie. Earpiece in his ear and a SIG Sauer fitted into a pancake holster on the side of his belt.
Cameron said, “He looks old to be an agent.”
Cord waved at them to follow.
Cameron opened his door and pulled himself out by grabbing the passenger door. Then he shut the door behind him and followed Li over to the house.
Cord stopped and shook hands with th
e older guy.
The guy was bald with a gray beard. He was taller than Cord, probably six foot three. He was shorter than Cameron but weighed more. Maybe two-fifty or two-sixty. He had some muscle left in his forearms and biceps. Cameron figured that when he’d been younger, he was probably no stranger to the gym. Maybe he’d even been a bodybuilder in his prime.
Cord said, “This is Jack Cameron.”
The older guy reached his hand out and said, “John Lucas. Retired.”
Cameron took his hand and shook it. The guy still had a powerful grip.
Cord asked, “Are the others inside?”
“They’re here,” Lucas said.
Cord led Cameron and Li through the neatly trimmed yard and shrubs to an entrance with a black door. The paint was glossy and streamed perfectly to where Cameron couldn’t tell one brush stroke from the next, but still he thought it had most likely been hand painted.
Lucas then led them into a short foyer with a high ceiling. Everything was painted white, even the frame around a full-length mirror on the opposite wall. White walls. White ceilings. White beams. White everything.
Cameron looked past the front staircase and straight down a long hall that cornered and turned off out of sight. Beyond that, the house opened up into an open floor plan with a second staircase. Lucas, Cord, and Li walked in front of him and led him down the hall, around the corner, and into the living room.
Sitting on a gray couch was a woman who was about forty years old. She had a black dress on. Nothing fancy. And not like a funeral dress. It was just work attire and made it seem to Cameron like she did something important and wasn’t just a housewife. He assumed she was the woman of the house. Maybe her job was being a politician’s wife. As Li had said, this neighborhood was the home of politicians and staffers—DC’s regulars and America’s elite.
Cameron walked up to the edge of a sofa and stood.
The woman was attractive in the way of political figures or first ladies or royalty. She obviously had a full-time makeup artist and fashion designer at her disposal. No doubt about it. The dress she wore had definitely been made exclusively for her because when she stood up, it fit her like an extra layer of skin. To say it was form-fitting would be an understatement. It wasn’t that she was an example of a woman who put in serious gym time, but she was a woman who looked after her figure. She was a beautiful woman, and Cameron had noticed that fact, but her looks and the way that she carried herself took a distant second to one glaring fact—she’d been crying, and she’d being doing a lot of it.
