The President Killed His Wife (A Rogan Bricks Thriller Book 1)

by Steve Richer

  She was getting off the last step when a gray SUV came her way. She could see three men inside. At least they’re on time, she thought.

  A moment later, a member of the crew brought her suitcase to her feet before disappearing back into the aircraft. She went through a brief US Customs inspection and by the time this was done, the SUV had reached her and all three men came out, even the driver.

  “So I gather you’ve been briefed?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. You lead the way and we’ll back you up.”

  She wondered if he really was as disdainful as he sounded. The man who spoke, obviously their leader, had a high-and-tight military-style haircut along with a military-style build, all muscles and no humor.

  “Do you have a name or should I make up one for you?”

  “I’m Rudy. This is Cano and this is Pullen,” he added as he pointed to the others.

  Inspecting them, she realized they’d been manufactured from the same mold. From afar, they might as well have been wearing tactical gear but getting closer she saw they were simply wearing black pants and black nylon jackets, regular clothes found at regular stores.

  “We’re going into the city. One of you feel inclined to help a lady with her luggage?”

  Cano immediately leaped forward and took her suitcase. He didn’t waste a moment and put it in the trunk while everybody got into the SUV.

  Shiloh got into the front passenger seat and although she didn’t say anything she closed her eyes for a moment to savor the warmth. Seconds later, Rudy was behind the wheel and the two others were in the back.

  “Where to, ma’am?”

  “You boys are all business, aren’t you? There was a time when people were much more civilized in this trade. We would dine and talk and have a grand old time. You’re sadly taking all the fun out of this.”

  “Sorry.”

  “And you apologize too? Definitely not fun.”

  “Where to?” he asked again.

  “Let’s go downtown.”

  This was at last an order he could get behind. Rudy nodded and shifted into gear. Within minutes they were driving off the airport grounds.

  Warm again, Shiloh could think about the business at hand. This was probably the highest profile mission of her life and she was determined not to screw it up. She rolled her neck to exercise the stiffness away and she cracked her knuckles. She had barely slept on the plane and she knew that she would have to keep the jet lag under control.

  There would be no rest until this was completed. She watched the scenery go by, the elegant Washington skyline coming into focus.

  “You have equipment stashed somewhere?”

  “Yes, would you like to go to our safe house now, ma’am?”

  “No, it can wait. Let’s go downtown.”

  They drove another few minutes and then they took an exit. She frowned but didn’t ask any questions. It wasn’t the most direct way into the city but maybe they knew a shortcut, or perhaps they were aware that the route was under surveillance.

  But then another strange thing happened. She heard the guys in the back moving. Their coats were rustling. She glanced up at the rearview mirror but the angle was wrong, she couldn’t see anything. So she looked into the side-view mirror instead.

  What she saw was Cano and Pullen glance at each other. There was a conspiratorial air about them and she didn’t like it at all. What’s more, she realized they were leaving civilization. The road they were on was practically deserted and buildings were few and far between.

  They were definitely not going downtown.

  “Would you care to tell me where–”

  Before she could finish her sentence, Cano was springing forward. In a flash, he had his arms reaching over the front seat and holding her head in a lock. She didn’t know whether he wanted to strangle her or break her neck. In any case, it was bad news.

  Instinctively, she tried to pull his arms away, kicking her feet and squirming on the seat as she did so, but he was much stronger than she was.

  “Hold her still,” Cano barked at Pullen.

  The latter stretched to go lend his buddy a hand, putting his hands on her legs to steady her. It made her buck even more.

  Shiloh was aware that she was a dead woman. She had been on the other side of the equation often enough to recognize a successful ambush when she saw one.

  “Come on!” Rudy snarled from behind the wheel. “Do the bitch already.”

  That was the comment that made Shiloh focus. She could recognize a formidable opponent, she would even accept defeat if her foe was worthy, but she drew the line at being underestimated. That was an insult.

  Summoning all the energy she had left, she stopped struggling and took in her environment. She was held in place by the seatbelt, Cano was holding onto her neck, and Pullen was pushing down on her legs. They were in the woods, no one could come to her rescue. What could she do?

  The attacker tightened his hold. “She’s feisty but I almost got her…”

  She stopped clawing at the arms trying to choke her and settled on a course of action. She placed her right hand at her throat and felt around until she came in contact with Cano’s hand. With her left hand she did the same, finding Pullen’s.

  But with the stress, her air supply was going down fast.

  “Break her neck, no one said it had to look like an accident.”

  Cano grunted as a reply, putting more pressure on her neck. It was now or never!

  Chapter 23

  Shiloh grabbed both men’s pinky fingers and twisted until she felt the bones snap.

  “Ah fuck!”

  They didn’t quite let go of her but it was the distraction she needed, not to mention that it made them ease pressure. She planted her feet on the dashboard and reached down to the side until she grabbed the small plastic handle. She pulled on it, pushed with her feet, and her seat rail got back against Cano.

  The surprise made him stumble back and lose his grip on her. She gulped air, elated to still be alive, but she was far from victory. She twisted just enough to punch Pullen in the face, making him fall backwards like his colleague.

  “You bitch…”

  Rudy was fuming and he reached into his jacket for a pistol. Shiloh needed to deal with this but Cano and the other assailant were also coming back for her. She was unarmed and she would have given anything for something as simple as a knife, even a small one.

  As she reached down to unfasten her seatbelt, she had an idea. She unsnapped it and turned around on her seat to face the two men. Right then, Rudy produced a silver-plated firearm and brought it toward her while still keeping his eyes on the road.

  Trusting her instincts, she slammed both her hands at the gun, pushing it backwards. The driver squeezed the trigger, sending a resounding shot ringing through the cab and breaking the rear passenger window. Cano meanwhile was still coming forward for another attack on the woman.

  She grabbed him by the lapel and pulled him toward her, simultaneously still pushing the gun backwards. Rudy didn’t know what was going on and he depressed the trigger once more in order to shake the girl off. It was precisely what Shiloh wanted.

  She pulled Cano exactly at the right time and the round went through his face.

  “No!” Pullen screamed as the corpse fell on him, blood splattering the interior of the SUV.

  This time, Shiloh went after the weapon. She grabbed Rudy’s wrist, confident that she could wrestle the weapon away. However, just as she was making headway he swerved so she lost her balance. She didn’t quite slide off the seat but she didn’t have the momentum anymore.

  Pullen pushed the body of his friend off of him and jumped back into the fray, his face twisted with pure rage. He produced a switchblade and thrust it at her. She parried his hand with her arm, struggling to keep the two weapons away from her, and in a moment of desperation she saw an opportunity.

  She took a fistful of the seatbelt and unspooled it in record time, at once wrapping it arou
nd Pullen’s throat. His eyes went wide and he was agape, gripped with panic. His arms were flailing as she yanked on the seatbelt to tighten to squeeze on his neck.

  Through this, she couldn’t escape how in danger she was of losing her hold on Rudy’s gun. The moment she faltered would be her last.

  She caught sight of the blade swinging in an arc. It was all or nothing. She let go of the gun but pitched forward to trap Rudy’s hand between her stomach and the seat. It wouldn’t take long for him to pull his arm out and shoot her so she had to be faster.

  She reached over the seat with her free hand and had no trouble prying the knife from Pullen’s hand as he was beginning to lose consciousness. She then swung back as quickly as she could to stab Rudy from behind.

  “Ooohh!” the driver shrieked.

  He spontaneously squeezed the trigger and she felt a burning sensation on her stomach as the gun went off, but she didn’t think she was seriously wounded. Rudy lost control of the wheel, making the truck hit the ditch dead on.

  From there it was absolute chaos. The SUV rolled off the road and landed heavily through the woods, bending saplings and snapping branches loudly. The snow was kicked up in the air, mixed with an explosion of dirt.

  The bodies rotated inside the vehicle and Shiloh was no longer in control. She was hugging the seatback and making a poor job of it. She felt everything and anything bumping into her, she was hurting all over. Glass was flying everywhere.

  And it seemed to go on forever!

  The car eventually stopped moving. It was completely flipped over on the roof which was half caved in. Shiloh had trouble believing that she was motionless. And that she was still alive.

  She glanced around, getting her bearings. She was lying sideways on what used to be the roof, inside of it anyway. Pullen was directly in front of her with his eyes bulging out. The way his head was limply falling to the side told her he was dead.

  The window next to her was broken and she made quick work of getting out, crawling to safety. Then she stood up straight and inspected herself. She had a few cuts and bruises and there was a faint burning on her stomach from when the gun had been discharged, but she was otherwise tiptop.

  “You boys were fun after all.”

  She went around the SUV to see in what shape the driver was. She hoped he was alive because she needed answers. Until a few minutes ago she’d had no reason to believe she was in danger. Now her friends wanted her dead?

  She kneeled by the driver side window and saw that Rudy was still alive. His breathing was shallow and he was bleeding profusely from the knife wound in his shoulder.

  “All right, you’ll be fine. No need to be so dramatic.”

  He looked at her but he was in no shape to talk or even move.

  “Who ordered this? Who wants me dead?”

  He parted his lips and he died.

  “That’s very inconsiderate of you.”

  After looking around to make sure she was indeed in the woods with no witnesses, she pulled the three corpses out to make sure they were dead. Then, she searched them for identifications and information. They had nothing more valuable than a few dollars and some fake IDs – knowing the circles she traveled in, all identifications were fake.

  However, she did find something interesting. In Rudy’s pocket was a surveillance photo of FBI Special Agent Rogan Bricks.

  Chapter 24

  Mrs. Butrymowicz stood uncomfortably in front of the two federal agents and couldn’t suppress a yawn.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Rogan smiled. “No need to be, we’re keeping you up late. I apologize again for this.”

  She nodded that she understood but it was plain that she wasn’t happy that she had to go along with this. Her husband was on their side. Curiosity was what had made him one of the most sought-after attorneys in Washington and so he had gladly volunteered to go ask his client some final questions.

  Even though Rudd was a prisoner, he was still President of the United States – albeit a former one. As such, he had certain privileges, even in jail. Besides, with the legal proceedings still hazy, they figured they could afford to give him some leeway as far as his legal defense went. It wasn’t like he would ever be a free man in any case. One way or another he was going to spend the rest of his life behind bars.

  And so Butrymowicz had gone out to talk to President Rudd in the dead of night. In the meantime, Rogan and Cass remained holed up in the lawyer’s mansion.

  “I wish I could offer you something to eat but I’m not sure I have anything. I was going to go shopping in the morning.”

  “Don’t trouble yourself, ma’am,” Cass said. “We really don’t want to impose.”

  “I would offer you some of the stale doughnuts my husband keeps buying but even that wouldn’t be very hospitable.”

  Rogan perked up. “Did you say stale doughnuts?”

  The elderly woman snorted. “I see you really are a cop after all.”

  “Yes, stereotype is my middle name. But I’m serious, if you really do have stale doughnuts, I can work with those.”

  “Really?”

  “Are you doubting my culinary skills?” he asked both women and the same time.

  “Come this way,” Mrs. Butrymowicz said incredulously.

  Cass and Rogan stood up from the couch and followed her into the kitchen. It was very modern again but aside from the walls painted a bright lime green and the pop art canvases, it was a lot like Rogan’s kitchen in Alaska with high-end appliances.

  The mistress of the house opened a cupboard and produced a box of plain doughnuts, putting it on the counter.

  “You can really do something with this, Special Agent Bricks?”

  “Absolutely. If you give me access to your pantry, of course.”

  She shrugged. “Sure, help yourself. But if it’s all right with you, I’ll go to bed. I can’t stand on my feet any longer.”

  “No problem, ma’am. Good night.”

  “Good night,” Cass added.

  The woman waved and left, leaving them both alone.

  “Rogan, you really want to cook right now?”

  “Oh I’m sorry, was there an infomercial you wanted to watch instead?”

  Cass lifted her hands in defeat. “Do your thing.”

  He winked at her and opened the box of doughnuts. They were the low-quality kind found in supermarkets. He smelled them to make sure they weren’t that old and tested the texture. They were starting to get dry.

  “Perfect.”

  He opened the cupboards one after another until he found an array of condiments. He thought about making a sandwich but it wasn’t his first instinct. Then he looked into the fridge and his face broke into a wide grin when he spotted a bottle of genuine maple syrup.

  “You’re about to have the best homemade dessert from leftover doughnuts in your life, young lady.”

  “If you say so…”

  “Oh I say so!”

  He grabbed a saucepan hanging from a hook above the counter and filled it halfway with maple syrup which he quickly put on the stove to boil. As it heated up, he went on a quest for two bowls and some spoons.

  “Anything to drink? Coffee?”

  “It’s too late for coffee.”

  “Good call. This begs for milk. And ice cream! I hope they have ice cream…”

  Without missing a beat, he poked his head in the freezer and he was positively beaming when he found a tub of vanilla Häagen-Dazs. He put it on the counter and got a scoop for it, and by this time the maple syrup was bubbling.

  “How hungry are you?” he asked his friend. “Would you say you are a) severely hungry, b) moderately hungry, or c) lightly hungry?”

  “Not really hungry, to tell you the truth.”

  “Nah, you can handle this.”

  Ever so gently, he lowered four of the small doughnuts into the boiling liquid. He pressed down so they would soak up the syrup and he turned off the heat. Then it was just a matter of flipping the doug
hnuts over a few times, making sure they were engorged with sweetness.

  He instructed her to pour two glasses of milk and when she came back she saw that he was finishing up.

  “That’s it?” she asked.

  “You shut your mouth, woman! This is art at the end of a spoon.”

  He put the doughnuts in the bowls, added a scoop of ice cream to each, and finally drizzled the rest of the liquid on top of each dessert. He handed her a bowl and waited until she took a bite.

  “And?”

  Her eyes practically popped out. “This is so good!”

  “I have this effect on women all the time.”

  She chuckled but promptly remembered the food in her hands. For the next several minutes, they were silent as they ate. Rogan couldn’t help feeling serene at the moment. Between dodging killers, jumping out of airplanes, and living through a shootout, cooking made him feel like himself once more.

  He saw that Cass was feeling the same way. Her nervousness was gone. They were just two normal people enjoying a late snack. She ate every last bite and licked her spoon clean. There was no better reward for a chef, even an amateur like him. Once they were done, they stayed put, just leaning on the counter and looking at each other.

  “You can tell me, you know.”

  “Tell you what?” he asked.

  “You have this deep secret about your past. You think it’s unspeakable but I think it’s weighing you down.”

  He nodded somberly. He was disappointed that she was bringing this up again, but not angry. Maybe it was time he spoke about what he’d done. He was likely to die in the next few days anyway at the rate things were going.

  “You think I’m awesome now but that’s gonna change after I tell you about myself, Cass.”

  “It’s okay, I never thought you were that awesome to begin with.”

  He smiled and gave a faint chuckle. She put her bowl down on the counter and reached for his hand. He didn’t resist and she came closer, soon holding both his hands and staring into his eyes.

  “I really don’t want to pry, Rogan. But I do want to help. Sharing your burden can’t hurt.”