Dom nodded. The agents and Angela chatted while Samantha dialed Ken’s cell and explained the state-of-play. After a few minutes, she said, “I would have called you first, but I wanted to check in with Agent Keating. He’s the one I met with at the office. I told you about that earlier. He’s here with me now.”
“Yes, that’s fine,” the advisor said. “He’ll be good for you on the ground. Secret Service has their hands full right now. It seems unlucky that this man suddenly showed up in D.C. Then again, it could be the break we’ve been looking for. Still, we don’t want you out there as some kind of bait.”
“I won’t be,” she said. “Brett, I mean, Agent Keating is very professional. Sounds like he really will stay on top of it. He said his office will take the lead on the investigation and search for the guy up here. He’s also going to walk me home. I’ll see you first thing tomorrow in the staff meeting.”
“Yes, thank you, Samantha. Have a good night.”
As she clicked off, she heard a groan from the stragglers at the bar. She glanced at the TV. The Cubs had lost. Apparently, no one was having a good night.
“Ready to go, Samantha?” Brett asked as Angela waved goodbye and headed toward the door with Dom.
“Absolutely,” she said, grabbing her purse. As they walked toward the door, she eyed Brett out of the corner of her eye. Would he really protect her? He couldn’t be with her all the time, but whenever he was, she knew she would feel quite secure.
When they reached the door, Brett poked his head out and scanned the area. He turned, nodded to her, and then took the lead down the street. She followed and watched him as he walked.
There was something about him. Strength, confidence, or was it competence? He certainly seemed to always know what he was doing. Were all FBI agents like that? The NSC had an undercover agent on staff, but she had never really seen him in action. From what she had learned of Brett, he certainly seemed like the take-charge type. She liked that. In fact, she liked that a lot.
“You and Dom are great to take care of Angela and me,” Samantha said as they approached her apartment.
“Our pleasure,” Brett said and waved over his shoulder. He never stopped scanning the street. When they reached the entrance to her low-rise, tan brick apartment complex, she pulled out her key and unlocked the front door. “How’s the security in this building?” he asked, following her inside.
“Decent, I guess. There’s a desk over there with an attendant during the day.”
“What about at night?” Brett asked, surveying the lobby.
“They’re on call if we need a manager or repairman.”
“Not good enough,” Brett muttered. “What about access to that front door?”
“Residents all have keys, and guests press our buzzers.”
“Way too easy,” he said. “First thing we need to do is get the name ‘Reid’ off the door list.”
She nodded. “I’ll tell the manager in the morning.”
“Would you mind showing me your apartment?” he asked.
“Not at all. It’s up this elevator on the second floor. I didn’t want to be any higher. I kind of have this thing about heights,” she confessed.
“Lots of people do,” he said as they stepped into the elevator. Outside her door, she reached into her purse and produced another key. “Let me go in first,” Brett said when she opened the door. One lamp illuminated the foyer. He spotted a switch and turned on some overhead lights. “Come in, but wait here,” he said, moving cautiously through the living room. She stepped forward and put her purse on the hall table as he advanced to the kitchen. Finally, he moved through the bedroom, closets, and small bathroom. “All clear,” Brett said, stepping back into the foyer with her.
“It’s not very big,” she said somewhat apologetically. “But it’s nice being so close to work.”
“I get that,” he said, glancing around again at the tasteful furnishings, beige couch, dark green chairs, ficus trees in the corners, and wide picture window overlooking the park and Key Bridge. “Nice view. Just don’t spend too much time looking out this window. Do you have a security system? I don’t see a key pad.”
“We don’t have them in the apartments. At least I haven’t seen any. I suppose I could get one.”
“I’ll take care of that first thing tomorrow. Do you have an extra key? I’ll get a crew to install a system.”
She went to the small table at the end of the living room. There was a drawer in its center filled with pens, tablets, stamps, envelopes, and her extra key. She walked back to the foyer and handed it to him. “I really appreciate this.”
“And I appreciate that you called me right away. If this is the guy and he’s here to track you, we’re going to find him.”
Samantha checked her watch. “I know it’s getting late, but would you like a cup of coffee or anything?”
“No thanks. I’m good for now. By the way, when do you leave for the White House?”
“Around 6:30 every morning.”
“So, you have a pretty regular schedule then?”
“In the morning. Hard to say when I get out at night. It’s usually not until seven or seven-thirty. Sometimes later,” Samantha said.
Brett glanced around the apartment once more, gazed out the window, and then looked back at her. “I said earlier that we’re going to assign agents to be with you 24/7. Not when you’re at work, but all the rest of the time. They’ll be stationed right outside, and they’ll drive you to and from work. And wherever else you want to go at night or on the weekends.” He pulled out his cell and added, “I’ll get that ball rolling along with the set-up for your security system. But right now, I don’t want you alone in here.”
“Oh, I’m sure everything is fine,” Samantha said. “It’s late, and I doubt anybody could get in the front door. They’d have to get someone to buzz them in. Plus, I’ve got a dead bolt.”
“Sorry. If that guy really was at the restaurant, that means he’s been following you. He could know where you live, what time you go to work, even what kind of car you drive. So, since you don’t have an alarm system yet, I hope you don’t mind me intruding on your privacy tonight. I’ll take the couch.”
“If you’re sure. I hate to put you out.”
“I’m sure,” he replied, walking over and closing the drapes.
“Well, thank you. I’ll get you a nice pillow and blanket. I have extras down the hall.”
“That’s okay. I won’t be sleeping.”
“Well, I’ll bring out a few in case you change your mind,” she said. “The bathroom is back there. Oh, you saw it already. I have extra razors and toothbrushes if you’d like either,” she said over her shoulder and headed to her little linen closet.
“Thanks. That all sounds great. You said your apartment is small, but you should see some of the places I’ve had stake-outs. Makes this place look like the Marriott. Or the Mark Hopkins with that view.”
Samantha returned with everything she had promised. “Okay,” she said. “All set. Again, I really appreciate this. I’m sure we’ll work out a schedule and routine sometime tomorrow.” She handed him the pile and gave him a big smile. Then she turned and retrieved her cell from her purse. Samantha walked back down the hall to her bedroom. Before she closed the door, she heard Brett talking on his cell, giving Dom an update on his plans to secure her apartment and assign agents to her case.
As she got ready for bed, Brett’s comments about the waiter knowing where she lived and what car she drove made her shiver. Yes, there was a savvy special agent right outside her door. But even the entire Secret Service couldn’t always protect the president. How could a couple of FBI agents always protect her?
TWENTY-TWO
FRIDAY EARLY MORNING;
SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA
“I HATE GETTING UP THIS early,” Vadim bellowed to Maksim, who was making coffee in the penthouse kitchen. Outside their picture window, the first rays of sunlight reflected off Coit Tower and war
med the gray Pacific Ocean lapping at the Golden Gate Bridge.
“Don’t blame me for the time difference. When it’s 6:30 in the morning here, it’s 4:30 in the afternoon in Moscow. I can’t change that,” his brother said calmly, never pausing in his work.
“I’ll place the call. You get me an espresso. And make it fast. Only a Putin insider could have been promoted to his position in the central bank. I need to be sharp when I talk to him,” Vadim said. He grabbed his cell and punched in a set of numbers. When the call was answered at the bank, he asked for Alexander Tepanov and waited. After a full minute, a voice came on the line.
“Vadim, old fellow. Where are you?”
“On the road, as usual,” Vadim said. He tried to keep things vague when he conducted business. “But first, your wife and your mother. How are they?”
“We spent a wonderful weekend at my dacha. Now that summer is here, we may take a month near the Black Sea.”
“Sounds good. Congratulations on your new position at the central bank. It’s a very prestigious posting,” Vadim said in a jovial tone.
“Yes, thank you,” the banker said. “Lots of new responsibility and more travel, I’m afraid.”
Maksim handed Vadim a small cup of the strong espresso. His brother took a sip, nodded his approval, and continued speaking. “Will you be traveling to that financial conference in the states I read about? I imagine there’ll be a lot of high-level officials and central bankers there,” Vadim said in an offhand manner.
“Yes, I have an invitation to go to the American Federal Reserve Conference in Wyoming,” Tepanov said. “Never been to Jackson Hole. Sounds pretty rustic. Why in the world would the top finance ministers want to go to a place where they stay in log cabins? They don’t even have television there.”
“I have no idea,” Vadim said. “Maybe they’re trying to create a good image for the public.”
“I suppose some of the city dwellers think it’s fun to get out of town and look at elk and moose. Not sure I understand why.”
Vadim desperately wanted Tepanov to register for the conference and get that schedule. “It’s probably just an excuse to network,” Vadim said. “Think of all the power brokers who will be there. Not just from America, but Europe, Africa, East Asia. And I’ll bet they strike all sorts of deals while they’re at dinner or on fishing trips. You could make a lot of valuable contacts there, don’t you think?”
Tepanov paused. “I suppose you have a point. My calendar does happen to be free next week. Maybe I should get to know the Americans in my new position. It wouldn’t hurt to meet more Germans, Indonesians, or Chinese in the field either. Go where the money is, and make sure they all know I am more or less independent, not someone who should ever be sanctioned.”
“Brilliant,” Vadim said. “I read that the food is good too.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Now then, I’m sure you didn’t call to ask about my vacation plans.”
“Not entirely. Did they include a schedule of events in that conference invitation?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Maksim and I were thinking of spending a day or two in Wyoming ourselves. So, I just wondered if you were going and when you’d be available. We thought the conference would be a good place for the three of us to meet and for Maksim and me to express our gratitude for your efforts on our behalf,” Vadim said.
“We might be able to work that out.”
“Great. If you wouldn’t mind emailing me the schedule, we’ll see if we can coordinate our calendars.”
“All right,” the banker said.
“Perfect. That will help us make our plans.” Vadim smiled, picturing his list of assets that would skyrocket in value once Lubov and Stas finished everything. “Will you be available tomorrow morning?”
“Yes, I should be here.”
“I may need your help to execute some trades. You’ve assisted us with stocks and bonds in the past, and I was hoping you could arrange to place some buys for us again through your contacts. With the usual commissions, of course. I have to work on my numbers, but I may have them by tonight.”
“I have plenty of contacts who could do that. I’ll wait for your next call. Please use my personal number.” Tepanov read off the digits.
“Sounds good. I’ll try you later then.” Vadim hung up and called out to Maksim, “Tepanov is sending us the schedule. I’ll forward it to Lubov and Stas so they can fine-tune their options. After breakfast, I’ll figure out our own options. I’m looking forward to these trades.”
TWENTY-THREE
FRIDAY EVENING;
GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON, D.C.
OTTO SWIPED THROUGH LISTINGS FOR nearby restaurants on his iPhone, hoping to find one she would like. After stopping by her reception desk several times to ask stupid questions about the guidebook he had bought, Otto finally struck gold. The pretty Asian girl had asked if they could continue their discussion over dinner when her shift ended.
He couldn’t stop thinking about her. With her short, jet black hair and dark, almond-shaped eyes, he thought she might be from Indonesia or Thailand. He hadn’t asked her. All he wanted was to take her out. Vadim would never approve of his trying to get close to a girl when he was supposed to be following orders. But Vadim wasn’t here. She was. And he wanted her.
Obviously, she hadn’t seen that FBI sketch of him on the news. If she had, the police would have arrested him by now. But so far, no one had paid any special attention to him, except that weird look the Reid woman had given him when she saw him at Chadwick’s. He had run away pretty quickly, though. Otto no longer felt in danger on that front.
He started scrolling through reviews for places that were close to the hotel. From that list, he narrowed his search to two restaurants, the ones that were farthest away from areas where the White House woman hung out. As he swiped through photos of Martin’s Tavern, it started to win out against its competition. The food looked great, it had private booths, and the prices were decent.
She got off at 8:00 p.m., so he made a reservation online for 8:15 p.m. and requested a booth. Then he opened his inbox and looked for new emails from San Francisco. There was one from Vadim asking him for an update on his activities. What could he say? That he had just shadowed Reid but was afraid to try again because she had some official driving her everywhere? He hadn’t figured out how to deal with that situation yet.
He looked at his watch and realized it was almost 8:00 p.m. Vadim would have to wait. He ran into the bathroom, splashed some water on his face, ran a comb through his hair, and rushed downstairs. “Hi, Jolene,” Otto said with a smile as he walked up to her desk. “About finished for the night?”
“Oh. Hi, Oleg.” She turned to another young woman at the end of the counter. “I’m heading out. See you tomorrow.” She logged off her computer, retrieved her purse from a drawer under the counter, and came around to join him.
She is a knockout, he thought.
“I’m sure you’re the expert on restaurants around here, but I thought Martin’s Tavern looked good. Would that be okay?” he asked in a hopeful voice.
“Sure,” she said. “I haven’t been there in ages. I usually go back to the dorm for dinner.”
He escorted her through the lobby and out the hotel’s front door. “Oh right. Georgetown University. You told me that. When do you graduate?”
“Next week. After finals,” she said as they turned left and strolled down Wisconsin Avenue. The balmy night air made the walk rather pleasant as they passed the pizza shop and liquor store down the street. “It’ll be so good to be finished with my degree and get a real job. Working at the hotel helps with tuition, but trying to fit in study time and all my classes has been tough.”
“What’s your major?”
“I’m getting a degree in business and economics. I added a couple of electives in history, art, and music when I could fit them in. I want to start my own business someday,” she said.
“What kind of business?” Ott
o asked.
“I’m not sure yet. But everywhere I look, I see people, especially people my age, starting little companies. Some make it, some don’t. But this is the one place in the world where I’ve decided I really can make it,” she said with conviction.
“What about your family? Where are they?”
“Back in Thailand.”
“So, what made you choose Georgetown? It’s a little far from home.”
“My father made me study hard. And I had heard so much about America that I really wanted to come here. After high school, I searched everywhere for a good place to go to college. We had been saving for my tuition, but it wasn’t enough. So, I got the hotel job and then accepted Georgetown’s admissions letter. Now, I don’t want to go back home.”
“So, can you just stay here?” Otto asked, raising his eyebrows.
“It’s kind of complicated. I have a student visa. If I can get a good job, I can ask my employer if they’ll help me with the paperwork to stay on. They’ll have to say that they couldn’t fill the job with anybody else. As part of the business program, we have computer classes. So, I am hoping that will make my resume more competitive and bump me up the applicant list.”
“I’m sure it will. Everybody is advertising for computer programmers these days,” he said.
“Oh, I don’t think I’m good enough to do that. Maybe something a little less technical,” she said with a smile.
“It’s not that hard to pick up. I’ve learned a lot just by watching free tutorials online,” he said.
They reached N Street, waited for the light, and then crossed over to the restaurant. He noticed there were a few small tables outside. Maybe those would be better than a booth inside. They’d be more out of the way. He would just have to hope that nobody recognized him. He could hardly wear a hoodie when he was trying to impress a woman like her.
Then again, it probably didn’t matter where they sat. Who would notice him if Jolene was sitting there? He pointed to the restaurant’s patio area. “Would you rather sit outside or inside?”
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