“Jesus,” Andrews breathed. He turned to the deputy director. “John, I think we ought to bring the Service in on this. We’ll advise them to run an internal audit, see what they can come up with.”
“I agree,” Harper said, but the expression on his face did not match up with his words.
“Unfortunately, I’m going to be tied down for the next few days with Homeland Security. I can’t get out of those meetings, John, but I’m going to set up an appointment with you and Brenneman. I want you there as well, Kealey,” Andrews added as an afterthought. “Maybe you’ll be able to convince him to cooperate with us on this.”
“It would be a big help, sir. I just hope that I’m wrong.”
“So do I,” was the director’s heartfelt response. “So do I.”
Less than five minutes later, Harper and Kealey were out of the DCI’s office and heading down toward the first floor. They walked slowly, speaking in short bursts when the hallway was quiet and clear of people.
“Jesus, Ryan,” Harper said with a smile on his face. “If you show up at the White House looking like you do now, I’m going to run out of the building and never look back.”
Ryan laughed and glanced down at his clothes. “I guess I’ll have to invest in a suit.”
“Is that how you dress when you lecture in Orono?”
“My students are even worse than I am, John. It’s all a matter of degree.”
They fell silent as a tall, trim woman with a flowing mane of auburn hair passed them hurriedly in the hall carrying a stack of files. She flashed Ryan a little smile as she brushed by.
Harper noticed and stuck his elbow in the younger man’s side. “If I got half the attention you do, my friend, I would die a happy man.”
“Not if Julie overheard you saying that. In fact, she would probably kill you herself.”
Harper smiled at the retort, but soon turned serious again. “That shit you just gave Andrews…You don’t really believe any of it, do you?”
“No. I guess it is possible that Shakib leaked something other than Senator Levy’s route, but it’s not likely. Andrews is just new enough to the job to believe something like that, though, and he never would have listened to me if all I’d had to offer were Gray’s final words. This way, he gets to throw some accusations at the Secret Service for failing to control their information, and we get what we want; some real help in tracking Vanderveen down. Unfortunately, now we have to sell it to the president.” Kealey smiled to himself. “That might be a little bit trickier.”
Harper shook his head incredulously. “I always said that you would be a star at headquarters, Ryan. You’re the most naturally deceptive person I know.”
The younger man grinned. “Don’t worry, John, I’m not out for your job. I’d never have the patience for all the ass-kissing you have to do.”
Harper laughed. “It’s that ass-kissing that keeps you out of jail when you pull shit like you did with Elgin.”
“Speaking of Elgin, I think the man knows more than he’s saying. I want to work with Adam North on this, the guy from DEA. He kept it together when it counted. My problem is going to be getting access. Do you think you can arrange that?”
Harper nodded slowly as they crossed the open lobby toward the security desk. “It’ll be tough, but I can get you in there. The worst part will be avoiding the press. I believe they’re holding him in Alexandria. Don’t leave any marks on him this time, Ryan. You shouldn’t have done that in the first place.”
“Don’t worry, I know how to handle it.”
As they pushed out into the cool Virginia air, Ryan looked down the long rows of stone steps to see a dark blue BMW waiting at the curb. Katie was standing next to it, shivering a little in a short black dress. She looked incredible, her light makeup artfully applied, diamond drops hanging from her ears. Her hair was up, and a few loose locks of golden brown fell down around her face. She smiled up at him, and Ryan’s heart skipped a beat.
He turned to Harper, who was wearing a sly grin. “You clever bastard…” He put his hand on the other man’s shoulder and squeezed. “Thanks, John. I owe you one.”
“Take her somewhere nice, Ryan. She deserves it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Ryan let go of his friend’s shoulder and hurried down the steps, wrapping her up in his arms before they shared a lingering kiss. Harper watched from the top of the steps with a rueful grin, laughing a little at the strange compatibility of the couple. Ryan with his unkempt hair, tattered sweater, and heavy boots, while Katie looked like she had just stepped off a runway in Milan.
Harper thought of Julie and his smile grew. As he walked toward the parking lot and his own waiting car, he decided that they would enjoy a night out on the town as well. After all, life was too short for anything less.
CHAPTER 22
ASHLAND, VIRGINIA • WASHINGTON, D.C.
Nicole Milbery had been in the real estate business for sixteen years, and had never wanted to do anything else. Now, at thirty-seven years of age, she was a slender woman of medium height, well known and highly respected in her community. Her shoulder-length honey-blond hair was layered in the latest style, and her soft, doelike brown eyes belied the dogged determination and intelligence that was a hallmark of her character and the reason for her considerable success. She was the sole proprietor of Milbery Realty, an agency based in the northern reaches of Virginia that catered primarily to upscale clientele.
The person sitting across from her now did not fall into that category. He was looking for something far more modest, 120 acres at the most, and only to rent. Although her profit on the deal would be marginal at best, she found herself unwilling to hurry the proceedings along. He was a strikingly handsome man. The dark brown hair was streaked with gold, and she noticed that it drifted over his forehead into his eyes, which were the most amazing color of green she had ever seen. His full lips were perfectly centered beneath a long, straight nose; the clean-shaven jaw was square and firm, and his skin radiated a healthy glow.
He had come into her office just forty-five minutes earlier. When they shook hands he had smiled, revealing boyish dimples and a set of perfect white teeth. Her breath had caught in her throat, and ever since that moment, her professional poise had seemed an arm’s length away, just beyond her grasp when she needed it most.
“So, Mr. Nichols,” she said, deliberately emphasizing the seductive quality of her voice. Her eyes were locked onto his. “I think we’ve made some good choices here. When would you like to take a look at these properties?”
He covered his mouth and faked a cough to hide his sudden grin. Just hearing her say it made him want to laugh. He had chosen it on a whim three years earlier, and in retrospect, he knew it had been a mistake. The very name itself occasionally drew attention, something that he was definitely not looking for.
Still, it was amusing.
He moved his hand away, once again in full control. “As soon as possible, Nicole,” he said with another charming smile. “I have time today, if you do. And please, call me Tim.”
He thought the third house would suit his needs perfectly.
It was a farm, really, 97 acres situated on earth that would now be teeming with hundreds of rows of red winter wheat if the fields had been seeded in early September. Because they had not, the recent rainstorms had washed away much of the topsoil, leaving behind what could only be described as a lake of mud.
The property was located just off Chamberlayne Road north of Richmond. It was a rural community; the closest house was a half mile away, but Interstate 295, which ran east and west, was less than 3 miles away, and I-95, which ran north to Washington, was not more than 4 miles to his west. He turned his attention back to the one-story red brick house as they walked away from Milbery’s Ford Escape and up the hard-packed dirt of the driveway.
“As you can see,” she was saying, “the house itself is somewhat modest, but really quite lovely. I know it looks small, but the basement is finished and quite ext
ensive. Perhaps the best part of all is the privacy.”
They were inside, moving steadily through the small structure. “This is the den. Hardwood floors in every room.” She stamped her heel lightly as if to prove her point. “Plus, a cozy little fireplace for the cold nights that we’ve been getting. Perfect for you and…Is there a Mrs. Nichols?”
Will Vanderveen held up his left hand, which was missing a ring on the third finger. When he winked at her, she blushed and turned her face away.
He looked around at the depressing surroundings. What a shit hole, he thought. He would never have been caught dead living in such a place voluntarily, but for less than a month, he could suffer in silence. Besides, he was interested in the property for other reasons.
“Nicole, do you think we could take a look at the barn?”
It was far more impressive than the house, a solid structure with staggered floors that followed the contours of a gently sloping hill. Vanderveen looked around, pleased by what he saw. From the road, only the very top of the barn could be seen, as it was located behind the house. The interior was dry and warm. It offered an entrance on only one end, but there was a large sliding door with a heavy lock. More importantly, the single entrance was wide enough to accommodate a large commercial van. He kicked aside some of the straw to reveal a hard concrete floor.
It couldn’t have been better.
He turned to ask a question and found her facing away from him, leaning over to pluck a wayward piece of straw from the top of her shoe. He thought she had timed it well. His eyes moved over her ass, firm beneath the short red skirt, and down the long, taut legs to the three-inch heels she was wearing.
She removed the offending article and stood up quickly. Turning to face him, she immediately caught his wandering gaze. A small smile played over her glossy red lips. “Do you like it?” She was trembling with anticipation. “The place, I mean.”
He wasn’t embarrassed at all. He held her eyes and said, very quietly, “It’s perfect.”
“So you’ll be taking it, then?”
“I think you could say that, Nicole.” He was already walking toward her, slowly working the buttons loose on his shirt. “You could definitely say that.”
It had been two days since the meeting with Director Andrews at Langley. Ryan spent the mornings at Headquarters, but the afternoons were reserved for Katie alone. They went window shopping in Georgetown, and for long walks hand in hand through the stark winter contrasts of Rock Creek Park. They ate at ridiculously expensive restaurants on the Hill, and even took in a play at Ford’s Theatre, something she had wanted to do for a long time.
It was late in the evening on the third day when they arrived at the Capital Grille, a small, elegant restaurant on the corner of 6th and Pennsylvania. As always, Ryan felt a pleasant little jolt at the way heads turned to follow Katie’s passage through the crowded dining area. She was wearing a slinky black dress that ended at midthigh, and sling-back heels that perfectly accentuated her long, slender legs. Her usual glossy pink nail polish had been replaced by a clear lacquer, and her hair was swept up into an impossible pile that she had somehow secured with a number of silver barrettes. Ryan thought she had never looked more beautiful.
The meal was delicious and the surroundings nothing less than spectacular. Katie was amazed when Senator John McCain came walking through the door, immediately followed by a phalanx of junior staffers. Ryan almost had to restrain her from jumping up to point and scream like a giddy schoolgirl; Katie followed politics with the same degree of enthusiasm her peers reserved for musicians and celebrities.
He wondered how she might react to the fact that he was meeting with President Brenneman in less than a week, but decided that the reserved atmosphere of the restaurant was no place to find out. He pictured her probable response: You’re kidding, right? You’re so full of shit, Ryan!” All of this in a loud voice, overheard by the horrified waiters as they tried to figure out what to do. The image caused him to laugh out loud, as did the questioning look that she shot him across the table.
When they returned to the Hay-Adams just after midnight, the warmth of their suite was a pleasant reprieve from the damp snow that was drifting over the city. Katie collapsed onto the bed without kicking off her shoes, still floating from her Congressional sighting and the excellent ’94 California chardonnay they had consumed with their meal.
“God, that place was great! This hotel is great, too. I think we should move here. There’s nothing to do in Maine anyway. What do you think?”
“I don’t think you mean that. Besides, there’s plenty to do in Maine. You could take up fishing.”
She pouted her lips and gave him a skeptical look. “Do I look like a fisherman?”
He smiled and joined her on the bed, propping himself up on one elbow as he began to remove the silver clasps from her hair. “No, you don’t look like a fisherman. That’s a good thing, by the way…I’ve never found them very appealing.” She laughed a little at that. His voice took on a different, more serious tone when he spoke again. “As long as you’re still marrying me, we can do whatever you want, Katie.”
She looked up at him in amazement as the last clasp came free and the honey brown waves tumbled down around her face. “Are you serious?”
A brief pause, and then he grinned. “No, I just thought it would be a romantic thing to say.”
She slapped him hard on the arm as he laughed. “I really do hate you.” But she didn’t mean it, and couldn’t help but respond when he leaned in to steal a kiss. A few minutes later she was sliding the straps of her dress off her shoulders as he began to explore her body, his strong fingers running slowly down the lean curves of her back.
She moaned as his head dropped and she felt his lips grazing her breasts. She tugged at his pants as he unsnapped her bra in a practiced motion, sliding the black lace down until it caught for an instant on her hard nipples. Her dress slipped from the side of the bed to the floor, her fingers wrapping tight in the sheets as she felt his mouth move on her flat stomach. She sucked in her breath and squirmed as he kept going down…
A sound penetrated the waves of pleasure, and it took her a second to realize that it was Ryan’s cell phone. He got to his feet and reached for it. She whispered an expletive under her breath as he hit the TALK button and turned away from her.
“Kealey here. Yeah…Good, it’s about time. Okay, that works for me. I’ll see you then.”
She was sitting up on the bed, pulling the sheets around her body and staring at him as he cut the connection. “Who was that?”
He hesitated, and that said it all. “Oh, I get it.” Her face changed. “It was that Naomi, right?”
“Yes, it was. Listen, I need to head out early, Katie. I might be gone when you wake up.”
“Why?” She gazed up at him with worried eyes. “Where are you going?”
“Just to Langley. It’ll be a long day, though. I might not make it back tomorrow night.” He set the phone down and moved to join her once again. As he leaned in to kiss her, though, she turned away. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she said. “I’m fine, really.” But Ryan couldn’t see her face or read her thoughts, and had no way of knowing how hard his words had hit her: I might not make it back tomorrow night.
The unfortunate double meaning of the statement served to remind her of the fear she had been living with over the past several weeks. It had been hard enough to deal with in the first place, but now that they were engaged, it just seemed like she had that much more to lose, because there was the implied promise of a family and a life together that seemed so close she could almost touch it.
She wanted to tell him how she felt, to try to make him understand. At the same time, she didn’t want to be a burden. Katie sensed that whatever he was involved in was much more dangerous than he was letting on, and she couldn’t help but think that the less she bothered him with her concerns, the clearer his mind would be if he was headed into harm’s way.
Ryan was confused by her sudden change in demeanor, and automatically assumed it had something to do with Naomi. Jesus, he couldn’t help but think. How many times do we have to go over this? She still had her back to him. Realizing that she obviously didn’t want his company, he wandered aimlessly over to the French doors that led out to the balcony. Pulling them open, Ryan stepped out into the cold night air wearing nothing more than his boxers. The view below was spectacular, as the Federal Suite overlooked Lafayette Square and St. John’s Cathedral, the lights below illuminating the fresh white powder that blanketed the streets.
The scene was lost on him. Instead, he was remembering something that had occurred more than five months earlier.
They had still been getting to know one another at the time, enjoying the thrill of a new and exciting relationship, too caught up in each other to notice any flaws. She spent the night at his house on the Cape more often than not, although she kept a small apartment in Orono. On one particular night, some of Katie’s friends had come over for what she called, with an impish grin, “margaritas and a movie.” Evidently the emphasis was on margaritas, because after at least four of the sweet frozen drinks, her best friend from Orono had made some highly suggestive remarks about Katie’s new boyfriend, with Ryan in clear and obvious earshot.
Katie had tried to brush it off, but once her friends had gone, it was clear that she was still upset. When he asked her what was wrong, she refused to talk about it. Finally, after a great deal of gentle coaxing on his part, she had tearfully confessed that she didn’t think she could compete with that particular friend for Ryan’s attention.
That incident summed up everything he loved about her: she simply didn’t know how beautiful she was. The friend, while remarkably attractive in her own right, was plain in comparison. Strangely enough, a large part of Katie’s allure was her complete disinterest in her own appearance; he could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he had seen her stand in front of a mirror for more than a few seconds. What made her modesty so remarkable was the fact that it was completely unfounded. She was a goddess in every sense of the word, but no matter how many times he told her so, she just scowled and told him to quit teasing her.
Andrew Britton Bundle Page 21
