Dutch nodded. “He’ll be okay. He just needs a certain kind of woman.”
“What kind of woman is that?” Gina asked. Dutch always had a warm spot in his heart for Christian. He always wanted the best for him.
“I can’t pinpoint it exactly,” Dutch said. “But he certainly needs somebody who realizes his worth. Somebody the polar opposite of that daughter of mine.” Then he stood up. “I’d better get going,” he said. “The Speaker of the House awaits my presence.”
“Lucky Speaker,” Gina said with a smile as Dutch leaned down and kissed her.
But then he lingered there, looking her in the eyes, a look of fright suddenly appearing in his own eyes.
“What is it?” Gina asked, startled by his change in expression.
Dutch didn’t know what it was exactly. Just a sudden feeling that came quickly and left just as fast. “It was just. . . nothing.” He stood erect, still looking pensive. Mainly because he couldn’t even verbalize what that momentary feeling really was. “Anyway, you take care of yourself.” Then he thought again. “Maybe we’ll do something tonight,” he said. “You, me, and Little Walt. We might even go back to the house in Arlington.”
Gina smiled grandly. “Oh, Dutch, really? That would be fantastic!”
“Then consider it done. Set it up. You’re becoming good at that sort of thing.” Gina laughed. “Bye, babe,” he said, looked at her once more, and then headed off of the balcony and straight for that enemy territory they called Capitol Hill.
It was accomplished. Jade was in the basement, bound and gagged, and Sam was in the basement, bound and gagged too. Obstacle one and two handled. The phone call had been made and the trap was set. Beautifully set, if Marcus had to say so himself. The assault rifle was rigged and facing the mud room doorway. The only way into the home from the garage was the mud room. The only way into the living area was through the mud room. The door was always unlocked as it was the entrance reserved for the Secret Service, whenever necessary, and the president. Dutch always had to enter from that particular entrance.
Marcus had it ready for him, too. He would enter the home from the garage, walk along the small, narrow mud room, and then he had to walk under the archway to get into the living area. And as soon as he crossed the threshold of that archway, the trigger would release, bullets would fly, and Dutch Harber, Marcus thought with unbridled satisfaction, would be as dead as Marcus felt alive.
Marcus, in fact, felt as if he was on Cloud Nine. He was even smiling when he left the home. He spoke to Benny, the agent on street-side duty, got into his car parked on the street, and left. He was headed for the private jet Thurston Osgood had waiting for him. He would be on that jet and out of DC within minutes. He would be offshore shortly thereafter. And his millions would be deposited into his South American bank account, under his assumed name and new identity, as soon as the media reported the fall of Dutch Harber.
Marcus hit the steering wheel as he turned another corner and made his getaway, laughing all the way. It felt exhilarating. It felt freeing. It felt as if he was stealing Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa, Rembrandt’s Night Watch, and Michelangelo’s David, all in broad daylight.
Crader McKenzie stood to his feet as soon as the door to his office opened. His secretary had said that his wife was there to see him, and he had urged her to send her through. He had wanted to scream at that secretary for not sending her through without asking permission, but he didn’t want more negative energy surrounding him and LaLa than there already was.
LaLa entered the office unsure why she was even there. Especially after what she did with Christian.
“Hey,” Crader said, attempting to smile, although his heart was hammering. “I was just trying to sign more documents. Sometimes I think that’s the only job Dutch wants me doing: signing the papers he doesn’t want to sign.” He chuckled at his own joke. But then he realized LaLa was just standing there, tears appearing in her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asked nervously as he hurried from around his desk and made his way to her side. She shook her head, but could not speak.
“Oh, babe,” he said, rubbing her arm, tears in his own eyes. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you, you’ve got to believe that. I wasn’t thinking. I was just doing. I never meant to hurt you! Please believe that, La.”
La looked at him. “I believe it,” she said. “After what I did, I believe you.”
Crader didn’t know what she meant, but he pulled her into his arms. After what she did, he thought as he held her. What was that supposed to mean? What had she done? Was another man involved? Had his stupid actions sent his wife into the arms of another man?
He closed his eyes, terrified.
Dear Lord, he thought. What have I done?
Dutch stood in Statuary Hall on the southern end of the Capitol Rotunda and listened intensely. The introduction was long and drawn out, he hadn’t expected any less from the verbose Speaker of the House. It was no secret that the Speaker loved the limelight. He loved it so much that he had taken what should have been a simple introduction of the president and turned it into a soliloquy on bipartisanship and committee assignments. Allison Shearer, who stood beside the president, leaned over to him.
“This is going to be a long day,” she whispered.
“It already is,” Dutch whispered back, prompting Allison to smile.
The audience, which largely consisted of House committee chairmen, seemed fascinated by their leader’s speech. But the last thing on Dutch’s mind was any of these people or their political ambitions. He was still antsy, for some reason, he still hadn’t been able to shake that feeling of dread he felt earlier. He leaned toward Allison.
“Ally,” he said, and she moved closer. “Do me a favor and call the Nursery. Make sure Little Walt’s okay.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied.
“And also phone my wife’s cell,” he continued. “Tell her I was just thinking about her.”
Allison looked at Dutch. He wasn’t a hovering kind of husband. He knew Gina wouldn’t like that. But he was the boss. “Yes, sir,” she said, and stepped outside of the room to do as he ordered.
The dark SUV, windows tinted, drove into the garage at Jade and Christian’s home not unlike the numerous other times this same vehicle had done so before. Only this time the president and First Lady wasn’t in the backseat, but the First Lady alone.
The driver was her usual bodyguard, a Secret Service agent, and the female on the front passenger side was also a member of the Secret Service. They both got out of the vehicle as soon as it stopped, with one, the male, moved to open the truck’s back door, while the female agent headed for the door of the home.
Gina, in an attractive puce-colored pantsuit, stepped out of the SUV and made her way toward the home’s entrance. The female agent opened the door and allowed her passage in. It was always the routine, as worked out when Dutch purchased the home for his daughter and son-in-law.
“Thanks, Carla,” Gina said as she entered the home’s mud room just off from the garage. The door was closed, leaving Gina inside, the agents outside. That was the protocol. They never entered the personal space of the First Family unless specifically asked, or if they suspected distress.
Gina’s cell phone chirped as soon as she entered the mud room. She looked at the screen. It was Allison. She stopped walking and immediately answered.
“Ally, hi,” she said with a smile. She and Allison were becoming very good friends. “What’s up, doc?”
“The president told me to phone you and let you know that he was thinking about you.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet,” Gina said with a smile. But it wasn’t exactly like Dutch to ask somebody else to phone her with such a personal message. “Is he okay?”
“He’s fine. He’s stuck listening to the Speaker give one of his long-behind speeches.”
Gina laughed. “Well tell the president that I’m thinking about him, too.”
“Where are you,” Alliso
n asked, “because I’m sure he’s going to want to know?”
“I just arrived at Jade’s. Tell him I’m fine.”
“Good enough,” Allison said. “I’ll let him know.”
Then Gina said her goodbyes and killed the call.
Earlier, just as Gina was entering the mud room, Jade was freeing herself. Marcus had taped her mouth and bound her wrists and ankles, as she had done with Sam, and tossed Jade in the room with her mother and closed the door. Jade had managed to wiggle her way from the bottom of the bed to the top, where her mother was able to work feverishly to free her hands.
And now it was finally working. Jade’s rope began to loosen just enough for her to squeeze her small hands through. She then untied the rope from her ankles and removed the tape from her mouth, the pain of the removal excruciating. And although Sam was motioning for Jade to loosen her ropes, too, Jade was up and running.
“I’ve got to warn Daddy!” she yelled as she ran, horror in her voice. “I’ve got to warn Daddy!”
She slung open the bedroom door, ran up the basement stairs, flung open the basement door, and was about to scream for help when she heard Gina’s voice, in the mud room, telling someone that she had just arrived. Jade then looked to her side and saw the assault rifle. She saw that it was rigged. She saw how it was facing the entrance in the mud room that led into the living room. Then she heard Gina say goodbye to whomever she was talking to, and then she heard footsteps. Gina was heading toward the living area.
Jade could have warned her. Jade could have told her to wait and to not take another step. She could have told her that danger was just around that corner!
But she froze.
She didn’t say a word.
And Regina Harber, the First Lady of the United States, rounded that corner and entered that living room the way she had rounded that corner and entered that living room so many times before, as nothing at all was different about this time. She even smiled when she saw Jade standing there.
“Hello there,” she said as soon as she crossed the threshold.
But as soon as she crossed that threshold, the assault rifle fired in rapid succession, fired all five shots as it was rigged to do. Only five shots proved to be overkill. Because Gina was already going down, the blood already gushing out, by the time the third bullet sailed toward her like a bolt of lightning, and ripped through her body.
Jade’s body tensed up during the firing. And relaxed beyond measure when it was all over, and the Secret Service had arrived.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Dutch was now at the podium, answering questions from a member of the Republican leadership. Why, this leader wanted to know, was the White House dragging its feet on the debt ceiling amendment? Dutch was about to answer, although everybody in the room knew the guy was trying to put the blame for congressional gridlock on the president. But just as Dutch was about to place blame where it truly belonged, the Secret Service agent in charge burst into the room in a dead run, a team of agents running behind him.
“You need to come with us, sir,” the agent said as he grabbed the president by the arm, not waiting for an answer, and began running him out of the room.
“What’s happened?” Dutch was asking as they ran, with Allison right behind him, but nobody was answering. The agents were too busy talking in their earpieces, securing the Rotunda, getting POTUS safely away. There was a shooting and the shooters, for all they knew, could be gunning for the president next.
The Speaker and his committee chairmen were running out of Statuary Hall, behind the agents, wondering what in the world was going on.
It wasn’t until Dutch and Allison were shoved into the back of the waiting limousine, and Ralph Shaheen, the head of the Secret Service, was getting in with them, did the president himself find out anything at all.
“What the fuck’s going on here, Shaheen?!” Dutch roared angrily as the limo sped off in a blur of burned rubber. Congressmen and staffers alike were running out of the Rotunda to see what was going on. They had never seen the president whisked away anything like that. It was obvious to them that something had happened, and something big.
Ralph Shaheen exhaled first, and then spoke haltingly. “It’s the First Lady, sir,” he said.
Dutch’s heart stalled. He couldn’t will himself to feel, to think, to dread anything. Or to breathe. Until he spoke her name.
“Gina?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“What about Gina?” His voice sounded distant, almost faint.
Even Ralph, Allison realized, looked devastated. “She’s been shot, sir,” he said, and Dutch’s heart took in a harsh inhale. And then a harsher release.
“Shot?” he said, his face a mask of anguish. “Gina’s been shot?”
“Yes, sir. They’re airlifting her to Bethesda right now.”
“But . . .” Dutch couldn’t wrap his brain around this. His face was a mask of anguish. “You’re telling me that Gina, that my wife. . . That Gina’s been shot?” This sounded untrue to Dutch. Unreal.
“Yes, sir,” Ralph replied. “The First Lady has been shot.”
“But she’s all right?” Dutch had the look of a child seeking approval. It broke Allison’s heart.
Ralph glanced at Allison. Then he looked back at the president. “She’s still alive, sir,” was all he was willing to say about it.
“What do you mean she’s still alive?” Dutch snapped. “Of course she’s still alive! Why would you make a statement like that?”
“Because it’s true, Dutch!” Ralph said. He and Dutch were old friends. And although he was not a political figure, and had a very non-personal role to play as head of the Secret Service, this was personal with him now. Somebody shot his good friend’s wife on his watch. This was personal. “She’s fighting for her life,” he said.
Dutch stared at his old friend, but he was still unable to fully appreciate the words he spoke. Then he ran his hand across his face. This couldn’t be happening. He just knew this could not possibly be happening, not to Gina. Not Gina!
“What did it . . . How did it . . . What happened, Ralph?”
“She went to visit Jade, who, incidentally, is okay thank God.”
“What happened to Gina?” Dutch asked impatiently. Although a part of him was naturally pleased to hear that Jade was fine, he didn’t want to hear about anybody else right now. He couldn’t hear about anybody else right now. “Tell me what happened to my wife!” he ordered.
“She went over to Jade’s house,” Ralph continued, “and there was a trap apparently set for her.”
A frown appeared on Dutch’s face. “A trap? What kind of trap?”
“A gun, an assault rifle, had been rigged to fire on her entry into the home.”
“Good Lord,” Dutch said, running his hand through his hair, his heart hammering.
“It was rigged to fire five rounds,” Ralph went on. “And it did.”
“Five times?” Dutch asked amazed. “She was shot five times?”
“Three solid hits, one graze, and one complete miss, sir. Four of the five bullets did hit.”
Dutch ran his hand across his face again. He felt as if he was in quicksand. Slowly sinking. “Who would do such a thing?” he asked in an almost rhetorical question to no-one, his eyes trailing around the car.
“We believe, sir,” Ralph said, “that Mr. Rance is responsible.”
Dutch looked at Ralph. “Marcus?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You believe her own brother did this to her?”
Allison covered her mouth in shock, tears already in her eyes. Ralph nodded his head. “Yes, sir,” he said.
Dutch shook his head. “Where is he?” he asked. “Where is that sonafabitch?!”
“We don’t. . . we don’t know where he is, sir. But we’re searching.”
Dutch frowned. “You mean to tell me that asshole was able to shoot my wife four times and walk away from it?”
“He set the trap first,
sir, and then he left. But we’ll find him, I promise you that. We had no idea.” Ralph was looking almost as distressed as Dutch. “We were right outside the door, sir. Protocol did not allow us to go inside that home without a reason or invitation. We had no idea what Rance had done until we heard the rapid fire. We arrived immediately, immediately, sir. But the First Lady was already down.”
Dutch closed his eyes. The idea of Gina down, with bullets riddled through her body, punctured his heart. He wasn’t there to protect her. He wasn’t there to shield her. He wasn’t there! And it was unbearable to Dutch. Unbearable like a nightmare. He wanted out of this nightmare. He wanted to wake up from this!
Then he thought about his son. His innocent, defenseless son. He opened his eyes. “What about Little Walt?” he asked, panic surging within him. “You’ve got to take me to Little Walt!”
“He’s fine, sir,” Ralph assured him. “We’ve shut down the White House and secured the Nursery. Walter Harber, Junior is in our complete protective custody, sir,” Ralph made clear. “The nannies do not even have access to him right now.”
Dutch exhaled. He knew he had to pull it together. Then he thought beyond Walt and Gina. “You said Jade was okay?”
“Jade is fine, yes, sir. She nor her mother were harmed. Jade, in fact, insisted on being airlifted with the First Lady.”
Dutch thought about Jade. He thought about her sometimes stinging resentment of Gina. He looked at Ralph. “Watch her,” he said.
This edict confused Ralph. “Sir?”
“I didn’t stutter. You watch that young lady. You call your agents on that helicopter right now and you tell them to watch Jade. You tell them that I don’t want her anywhere near my wife right now.”
Ralph glanced at Allison. What was he talking about?
“You heard me!” Dutch roared. “Contact your people! I don’t want Jade, or Sam, or anybody else near my wife right now. It may sound cruel to you, and I may sound heartless toward my own child, but I don’t give a fuck how it sounds. I don’t know if they had a hand in this trap that was set for Gina or not, and I’m not taking any chances.” My sorry ass had already taken too many chances, Dutch wanted to add. He’d already ignored too many clues that were staring him in the face!
DUTCH AND GINA: THE SINS OF THE FATHERS Page 17
