Exclusive

by Sandra Brown

  “That’s right, we have. Had, rather. Until yesterday, when he turned up as one of America’s Most Wanted. As if I didn’t have enough problems,” she said, rolling her eyes. “First my house blew up, killing my dog. Then I had a shouting match with Senator Armbruster, during which he did all the shouting. That incident got me fired from my job.

  “Then I indulged in a… well, you know,” she said demurely. “I got involved in a thing with this guy. But what woman wouldn’t be attracted to him? He’s a national hero, for heaven’s sake. The strong, silent type. Very sexy. And he has these eyes that just…” She shivered in mock delight.

  “Well, anyway, we were getting along pretty well, then yesterday his mug shows up on a news bulletin. Scared the hell out of me. I told him to get lost and he did.” She sighed wistfully. “I should have known he was too good to be true.”

  “When did you last see him?”

  “Just as I said, yesterday.”

  “What time?”

  “Hmm, let’s see. Midafternoon.”

  “Can you be more specific?”

  “No. Up until I saw the news flash, I wasn’t watching the time.”

  “What were you doing?”

  She shot him a telling look.

  “I see. You were having an… assignation?”

  She giggled. “How quaintly put.”

  “Where did it take place?”

  “Some motel. I don’t remember the name.”

  “Location?”

  “You got me. It was along a freeway, I remember that. I didn’t pay any attention to where we were going.”

  “You don’t have any idea what part of town you were in?”

  Bowing her head, she pulled her lower lip through her teeth, looking distressed. “I, uh… God, this is so embarrassing. Gray, Mr. Bondurant, was driving, see. And I… Oh, jeez! Can I just say that on the way to this motel I wasn’t exactly sitting up straight in the seat and that my head was below the dashboard?”

  The agents exchanged another look. One’s eyebrows were encroaching on his receding hairline.

  “I’m not even sure the motel had a name,” she continued. “He picked the place. Between you and me, it was kind of sleazy. You know the type of place. Rooms rented by the hour. Clean sheets optional. On top of being wanted for questioning by the feebs—Oh, sorry, guys. I meant no disrespect. Anyway, Bondurant was cheap. Our first date, he took me to an I-HOP. Can you believe it? If he hadn’t been so good in bed, and those blue eyes and all, I would have ended it right there.”

  One of the agents cleared his throat. “Uh, did Mr. Bondurant ever talk to you about Spencer Martin?”

  “Sure. All the time. They were buddies. The two of them and the President are like this,” she said, crossing two fingers.

  “Did he say anything about Mr. Martin going to Wyoming to see him?”

  “Yes. In fact, I think I was there just a day or two ahead of Mr. Martin. I went out there, thinking I’d do a piece on Bondurant, a what’s-he-doing-now type story. Right away, we sort of hit it off, you know? He followed me back to Washington. But before I could produce the story on him, I got canned. Now I find out he might be more dangerous than I thought.”

  “You thought he was dangerous?”

  She flashed the agent an angelic smile. “To my libido.”

  “Oh.”

  “Did he ever exhibit any hostility toward Mr. Martin or the President?”

  “No. Matter of fact, he saw the President recently.” She winked. “But I bet you guys already know that, don’t you?”

  “You haven’t heard from Bondurant since yesterday afternoon?”

  “No. Sorry. Can I go now? Funerals aren’t my favorite thing.” She reached toward her car door. “Besides, there’s really nothing more I can tell you. Getting involved with Mr. Bondurant, even to a limited extent, was just one of several bad choices I’ve made recently. I’m sure you’re aware of some of my more public blunders. This is one I’d like to forget. The sooner the better.”

  “If you hear from him—”

  “I won’t. When I told him to take a hike, he launched into that male thing. You know, that ‘how dare you walk out on me, I’m God’s greatest gift’ speech.”

  “If he does contact you, please give us a call.”

  “I certainly will.” She took the card the agent handed her and placed it in her handbag. “I don’t want to get into trouble on account of him. If he contacts me, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

  They thanked her for her time and walked back to their sedan. Barrie watched them go, feeling no animosity toward them. These two were among the good guys. They were doing their job as ordered by their superiors. They were performing by the book.

  Not so the surveillance team set up on Daily’s block. They hadn’t yet stormed the house in search of Gray, which confirmed what they had suspected—those “agents” belonged to Merritt’s personal army within the FBI, commanded by Spence Martin, who didn’t want Gray to be found and questioned.

  At any time, the President or his aide could command those men to move in and eliminate the pesky band of saboteurs living in Daily’s house. Why hadn’t they?

  It was a question that plagued them all. Gray seemed to think they hadn’t made a move because they had something larger in mind, a grander scheme in which he, Barrie, and Daily would trap themselves.

  She feared he was right.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Daily signaled to the hippie selling roses at the busy intersection. In under five seconds he was lying on the floor of the backseat, and Daily went through the green light.

  “Good going, Daily,” Gray said, slipping off his headband and wig. “They’re three cars back and there’s a bus between you.”

  “I’m getting good at this,” Daily replied from behind the steering wheel. “How’s the flower business?”

  “Lucrative. I hate to give it up. Who’s that?” he asked, referring to Daily’s passenger.

  “I’ve named her Dolly.”

  Dolly was a wide-eyed inflatable doll. She was wearing a jacket that belonged to Barrie and an auburn wig even more matted than Gray’s hippie braid. The shoulder harness and seatbelt held her in place in the passenger seat.

  “She’s supposed to be me,” Barrie said, crouched in the other corner of the backseat.

  Without raising his head too high, Gray took a closer look at the doll. “Pretty good resemblance.”

  “I’m glad you said that,” Barrie declared, unperturbed. “Now I don’t feel so bad about trashing you to the FBI.” She told him about being detained after Howie’s funeral.

  “That was before Armbruster owned up to his mistake and you were removed from the Most Wanted list. Whatever you said to him worked. He was all over the news this evening, claiming that there’d been a total breakdown in communications. He hinted that the error rested on the shoulders of his office staff, the efficiency of which is being reevaluated. Through the senator, Merritt assured the nation that Spencer Martin is handling a ‘delicate personal matter.’

  “Which covers everything from a hemorrhoidectomy to high treason.”

  “Right. And that he will resume his duties at the White House when the matter is resolved. Clete received some mild criticism from his colleagues, but he took it on the chin and was good-natured about it.”

  “Tell him about your call from Justice.” As prearranged, Daily had been driving aimlessly, trying to shake their surveillance, but he’d also been following their conversation.

  “From your source?”

  She nodded. “I was paged and returned the call, but instead of giving me information I already had, which was that the search for you had been called off, my source was after information.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like, ‘What the hell is going on?’ End quote. Because of this snafu with Armbruster and Yancey and the criminal division of the FBI, everybody’s a little fractious this afternoon. Frankly, it does my heart good.” She smiled a
t him cheekily. “So, honey, that’s about it for me. How was your day?”

  “I found Tabor House.”

  * * *

  Just in case Gray had located the hospital, Barrie and Daily had come prepared.

  “Do you think you’ve lost our tail, Daily?”

  “About five minutes ago.”

  “But there may be an electronic tracker on the car,” Gray said. “I haven’t found a transmitter, but that doesn’t mean it’s clean. We have to make this switch in a hurry.”

  Following Gray’s directions, Daily drove to a multilayered parking garage, where, on the second level, Gray had another vehicle waiting. Barrie and Gray alighted. Daily also stepped out, letting his car idle. “Take care of yourselves,” he told them.

  “I’m more worried about you than us,” Barrie told him. “You’re sure your tank has enough oxygen?”

  “Yes.”

  “Drive around, have supper, act as natural as possible,” Gray told him. “Keep them busy for several hours, but don’t take any chances. Don’t take any chances.”

  “I know, I know,” Daily said cantankerously. “We’ve gone over this a dozen times. I know what to do.”

  “You’ll do fine,” Gray told him. “Come on, Barrie.”

  She hung back, wishing Daily didn’t look so frail. Counter-intelligence maneuvers and breathing apparatus seemed hugely incompatible. “Whatever happens, we’ll be back before dawn. I’ll check on you as soon as I can. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “I’ll be careful.”

  “And that you won’t be cross with Dolly.”

  “She’s an easy broad. She doesn’t nag.”

  “And that if you start feeling bad, you’ll go home.”

  “I promise.”

  “You promise, but you won’t,” she said with mounting consternation. “I know you won’t.”

  “Barrie!” Gray called from the front seat of the other car. “Haul it.”

  “Get going or you’re gonna screw up Gray’s plan,” Daily told her.

  He tried to get back into his car, but she placed her arms around him and hugged him tightly. “You’re my best friend, Daily,” she whispered. “For life.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he said crossly. This time she let him push her away, but she wasn’t fooled by his brusqueness. His reluctance to say goodbye matched hers, piercing her with a cold splinter of foreboding.

  “Daily—”

  “It’ll be okay.” He slid behind the wheel.

  Nodding, she closed his car door. She tried to catch his eye, but he wouldn’t look at her as he dropped the car into gear. She stepped back as he drove away. She watched his taillights until they disappeared around the sharp curve at the end of the row.

  “Barrie?”

  “I’m coming.” She got into the car with Gray. On the front seat beside him was a shopping bag. “What’s that?”

  “Supplies. What’s that?” he asked, pointing to her leather satchel.

  “Camcorder,” she said absently. “Do you truly think Daily will be all right, or were you just saying what he and I wanted to hear?”

  He braked the car and turned toward her. “You don’t have to go,” he said. “It might be a better idea if you stay with Daily, protect him, and let me do this alone.”

  The ease with which he could dismiss any contribution she would make infuriated her. “Go to hell, Bondurant.”

  “I think that’s where we’re headed.”

  * * *

  They drove to a middle-class suburban neighborhood, where he parked the car at the curb in the middle of the block. “Keep a look out,” he told her as he got out of the front seat and into the back. “I’m going to change.”

  “Change what?”

  “My clothes.”

  He swapped the hippie-style faded jeans and tie-dyed T-shirt for a charcoal-gray suit, white shirt, and dark tie. “You should have told me,” she remarked. “I’m underdressed.”

  “Didn’t your mother tell you it was better to be overdressed than under?”

  “Probably. I didn’t listen very well to anything she told me.”

  “Well, listen up now,” he said, opening the car door. “Don’t make a sound and do exactly what I tell you.”

  Keeping to the shadows, they walked to the house on the corner. Lights shone in nearly every window. A TV set in the front room threw dancing bluish light on the walls, seen through the open blinds.

  In the driveway were a car and a pickup with a camper mounted over the bed. Gray signaled Barrie to wait beside the evergreen hedge dividing the property from the neighbor’s. Leaving the shopping bag with her, he approached the camper from the rear. The door was locked, but Gray picked the lock within seconds and waved her forward. She scampered from her hiding place to the back of the camper. When they were both inside, he closed the door and relocked it from the inside.

  “Have a seat.” He indicated a padded bench running along one wall. He took off his jacket and folded it over his thigh as he sat down.

  She spread her arms wide. “What are we doing?”

  “Waiting.”

  “I hate to be the one to clue you, Captain Marvel, but this isn’t Tabor House.”

  “The guy who lives here works there. I found the hospital early this morning when the night shift was getting off. I followed him home.”

  “How do you know this isn’t his night off?”

  “I don’t.”

  “How do you know this will work?”

  “I don’t.”

  “What if it doesn’t?”

  “I’ll try something else. Now will you give the questions a rest? Somebody might hear us in here. Sit.”

  She sat and lapsed into a moody silence. Soon the padded bench no longer felt padded. After about an hour, she said, “Being a commando isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It’s boring.”

  “Shh.” He held up his hand, signaling for quiet.

  Through the walls of the camper, she heard what sounded like a screen door slam. Then she distinguished two voices, one male, the other female. “Drive carefully,” the woman was saying.

  “I will.”

  “Are you working a double?”

  “No. I’ll be home around eight.”

  “I’ll have breakfast for you.”

  The man’s voice grew louder as he came closer to the pickup. “Sleep tight. ’Bye.”

  They heard his footsteps on the concrete, then the metallic click as he opened the driver’s door. The camper rocked slightly when he got in. Gray noticed that Barrie was about to speak and laid his finger against his lips.

  The motor sputtered a few times, then came to life. They felt a slight jolt when the parking brake was released. As soon as they were under way, country music started blaring from the truck’s souped-up speakers.

  “The music’s a bonus,” Gray said. “Now we can talk freely without being overheard.”

  “He works at Tabor House?”

  “Judging from the overalls he wears, I would guess the engineering or janitorial department.”

  “What’s it like?”

  “The hospital? A converted mansion. Georgian design. Lush grounds surrounded by a high wall. Very secluded. It’s at least ten miles off the state highway. You’d have to be looking for it to find it. There’s a gated entrance with an armed guard. One road in. Same road out.”

  “He’s going to drive us in,” Barrie said, catching on to Gray’s plan.

  “That’s the idea.”

  “What if the guard checks the camper?”

  “There’s a decal on the windshield of every employee’s car.”

  “Pretty ingenious.”

  “Save that for when we make it out of there in one piece.”

  The thought was so sobering, she changed the subject. “What happened with Armbruster?” After he’d recounted their conversation, she asked, “Do you trust him?”

  “I can piss farther. But so far he’s held up his end of the bargain. I’m going to do m
y best to uphold mine.”

  “I can’t believe they bought his story about incompetence on his staff.”

  “Clete can twist anybody’s arm.”

  “Even at that—”

  “And when twisting it doesn’t work, he breaks it off. He talked to the right people and made himself understood, that’s all. He wants his daughter back, no matter what. So he was willing to make a bargain with the devil—namely, me—if I can save Vanessa’s life.”

  Gray’s motivation was love. Barrie hadn’t allowed herself to think too much about that. Nor had she allowed herself to consider the depth of Vanessa’s gratitude, and what form it might take, once this was over.

  Best case scenario: Vanessa would survive. Her marriage to David Merritt would not. She would be free to live happily ever after with the hero who’d rescued her from her murderous husband.

  And Barrie would have what she wanted—the long-awaited exclusive that would finally launch her career and take it to heights that she’d never before thought possible. That was what she wanted more than anything, right?

  Irritated by the thought, she said sullenly, “I don’t suppose you brought along a deck of cards, something to pass the time.”

  “If you’re bored, you can change.” He nodded at the shopping bag. “That’s your costume for the evening.”

  Inside the bag was a nurse’s uniform—pants and a tunic in matching coral polyester—along with a pair of white walking shoes and a navy jumpsuit.

  Gray said, “The nurses don’t wear matching uniforms, so you won’t stand out.”

  Barrie dumped the contents onto the carpeted floor of the camper. “What’s with the jumpsuit?”

  “That’s mine.”

  “Dashing.” She stood up and reached for her belt buckle. “Aren’t you going to turn your back?”

  “No, but you can turn yours.”

  If he wasn’t going to make a big deal of it, then neither would she. She could act just as blasé as he, she told herself as she stepped out of her shoes and pulled her shirttail from her waistband. At least the camper was dark, with only a little light coming from the curtained windows on each side.

  After unbuckling her belt, she unzipped her slacks and pushed them down her legs. When they were off, she folded them and placed them in the bottom of the shopping bag. Next she unbuttoned her blouse and removed it, leaving her in panties and bra. At least they were a matched set. At least they were new, fresh from Victoria’s Secret.