The Inner Sanctum

by Stephen W. Frey

  Quickly she bent down, removed the small .22 caliber pistol from the black bag she had surreptitiously carried into the room, screwed the silencer on the barrel, wrapped a thick towel around the silencer, rose up, aimed carefully at Todd’s head and fired three shots into him at point-blank range.

  He was dead instantly.

  “That’s for Harry the Horse,” she murmured, dropping the gun back into the bag, zipping it closed, and walking calmly from the room.

  Chapter 36

  “I’m frightened.” Jesse gripped David’s right hand tightly as the BMW rolled up the long driveway of Jack Finnerty’s Middleburg farm.

  “You have every right to be.” David slowed the car down as he guided it around the circle in front of the house. “We both do.”

  “Don’t say that,” Jesse implored. She glanced at the huge house and the stables. “God, this place is incredible.”

  “This is what having money is all about,” David sighed. “If you can believe it, this mansion is just a guest house for that place over there.” He pointed to a sprawling estate set on a ridge a half mile away. “Finnerty told me his place is over two hundred years old. And that the main house up there on the hill is almost three hundred.” During the drive from Washington, David had explained Finnerty’s role in the conspiracy. “Here we are.” David pulled the BMW to a stop in front of the brick path leading to the home’s front entrance.

  For several moments they sat in the car, staring at the huge house in silence. Finally, Jesse reached for the door handle. “Time to go,” she said with determination. “I want my Edgewood file back.”

  “Right.” David opened his door and slid out from behind the steering wheel. “Remember, Jesse,” he whispered over the roof of the car as she stepped out of the passenger side. “As soon as you have that Edgewood stuff, get down.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be so flat against the floor they’ll have to pry me off with a spatula when it’s over.”

  “Good.” As David came around the back of the BMW, he motioned subtly at the trunk now tied shut with a piece of twine. Gordon Roth had broken the latch yesterday at the farm store when he’d popped the trunk to find the Edgewood file, hence the twine.

  Jesse hadn’t noticed David gesture at the trunk. She hadn’t seen Gordon Roth standing behind a corner of the stable either.

  “Ready?” David asked as he reached her.

  “No,” she answered honestly. “But I guess that doesn’t matter.”

  “I guess not.” He smiled at her reassuringly. “It’ll be all right.”

  Cautiously they walked up the brick path toward the white double doors.

  When they had moved inside the house, Roth broke from his hiding place and sprinted toward the BMW. Mitchell had indicated he would leave the information Jesse Hayes had put together in the trunk, convincing her that they shouldn’t take it into the house until she had the Edgewood file. Roth smiled as he ran across the neatly manicured lawn. Once he had the information, he was to come directly into the house, per Webb’s orders. There he would kill Jesse Hayes and dispose of her body deep in the Shenandoah Mountains. And life at Sagamore would return to normal.

  “Hello, Miss Hayes,” Senator Webb said calmly as she and David moved into the large living room. Webb stood directly before the huge stone fireplace which dominated the north wall of the room. “It’s such a pleasure to finally meet the woman who’s caused me so much aggravation over the last few weeks,” he said sarcastically.

  Jesse said nothing.

  Art Mohler stood to Webb’s left and a crisp looking man with red hair Jesse guessed was Finnerty took his place at Webb’s right.

  Webb turned to Mohler. “Where is Elizabeth?”

  “I don’t know. She was just here a minute ago.”

  “Find her. Now.”

  “Okay.” Mohler walked from the living room obediently.

  Webb glanced at David. “Do you have the information?”

  “It’s out in the trunk of my car.” He hesitated for a moment. “As we discussed.”

  Jesse’s eyes flashed to David’s. “What!”

  * * *

  —

  Roth whipped the knife from his belt and slashed the twine holding down the trunk. Just a few more seconds and they would be home free. He yanked the trunk up.

  The FBI agent rose to his knees as the trunk came up. Swiftly he brought the Glock 17 pistol straight up into Roth’s face. “Don’t move a fucking muscle, my friend.”

  For a second Roth froze, unable to believe. The agent’s face blurred as Roth’s blood pressure skyrocketed and his brain locked. But almost instantly his head cleared and he remembered the deal he had made with himself at the beginning of all this. Never be taken alive. He lunged for the agent.

  But the agent had his own deal. Never hesitate. And he unloaded the gun’s cartridge into Roth’s chest.

  Roth staggered to the side of the BMW, keeled over and fell to the driveway, dead.

  * * *

  —

  “Can I have my file from the hospital?” Jesse asked for the second time.

  “It’s right there on the mantel.” Webb motioned over his shoulder. “You can have it—”

  “I can’t find Elizabeth,” Mohler interrupted as he trotted back into the living room. “I’ve looked everywhere.”

  Webb’s eyes narrowed. Something was wrong. He glanced out the window on the far side of the room and caught a fleeting glimpse of someone in a navy blue windbreaker darting behind a tree. “Jack! Red!” It was a code word Webb and Finnerty had hoped they would never be forced to use.

  Instantly, Finnerty pulled a .38 from beneath his suit jacket, leveled it at Mohler and fired. Mohler dropped like a stone, blood pouring from the bullet hole in his temple.

  Next Finnerty turned the gun on David and fired. The bullet ripped through David’s left shoulder, sending him cartwheeling back over a couch. He struggled quickly to his feet and staggered into the large formal dining room.

  Webb heard screams from outside as FBI agents burst from their hiding places and ran toward the house, reacting instantly to the sound of shots fired. “Forget Mitchell,” Webb yelled at Finnerty who was heading toward the dining room to finish off David. “Get the Hayes woman and let’s get out of here!”

  Finnerty turned and grabbed Jesse roughly by the back of the neck. “Come on!” he snarled, pushing her ahead of them toward the kitchen, then to the large walk-in pantry. When they were all three inside the pantry, Finnerty slammed the door shut, turned to a row of shelves on one wall and pushed.

  To Jesse’s amazement, the shelves gave way, opening onto a stairway.

  Finnerty motioned with the .38 for her to go down the steps. “Don’t worry. It’s very safe. It’s part of the old Underground Railroad used during the Civil War to smuggle slaves out of the South.” Finnerty smiled. “And I’ve maintained it very well.” As he kept the .38 pointed at Jesse, he grabbed a flashlight from one of the pantry shelves and handed it to Webb.

  Webb flicked on the light, illuminating the steps and the tunnel at the bottom which was easily big enough for them to stand up in. “Go!” Webb yelled at Jesse.

  She stumbled down the stairs and into the tunnel, followed by Webb and then Finnerty who closed the false wall behind them. “They’ll never find us, Carter.”

  “I hope to God not.”

  The three of them moved quickly ahead, guided by the flashlight.

  “Where does this come out, Jack?” Webb asked.

  “Near an old logging road in the middle of the woods about a half mile from here,” Finnerty answered. “I’ve got a jeep waiting.”

  Webb laughed to himself. For a moment he had actually felt panic. But how could he have doubted Finnerty? The man was more reliable than Old Faithful. Webb glanced at Jesse as they hurried ahead. “You just had to go to th
e authorities, didn’t you?” he sneered. “Couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?”

  She said nothing, her mind focused on when she would make her break. They weren’t going to just let her go. That was obvious. They were going to kill her. She swallowed. They might shoot her down here or take her with them for protection until they were miles away. Then shoot her. But she wasn’t going down without a fight.

  “Did you really think you could beat us?” Webb laughed.

  “I—”

  “Stop where you are! Put the gun down, Jack!” Elizabeth Gilman stood before them in the tunnel holding a small revolver. The barrel shook wildly even as she clasped the handle tightly with both palms. “Put the gun down!” she screamed again. “I’ll shoot you where you stand. I swear to God.” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  “Easy, Elizabeth,” Webb said gently. “Put the gun down, Jack.”

  Finnerty allowed the .38 to fall to the dirt floor.

  “How did you get in here?” Webb asked icily.

  “I overheard you and Jack talking about it one night when we were all here. I saw you go to the pantry and I followed. When you weren’t in there, I suspected one of the walls was false. I tried it later that night after you two had come back.” She glanced around the tunnel. “I was right.”

  “You’re the one who went to Neil Robinson.” Webb’s gaze turned steely. “You’re the one who had Robinson start looking into the Elbridge Coleman campaign. Aren’t you, Elizabeth?”

  She nodded. “I couldn’t take it anymore, Carter,” she whispered hoarsely. “I couldn’t take what we were doing. The lies. The deceit. What that Gordon Roth did for us. It was sick.” She paused. “And I couldn’t take being beholden to you any longer either.”

  Jesse’s eyes widened.

  “Why now?” Finnerty asked, teeth clenched.

  “Because she’s dying,” Webb answered, a thin smile coming to his face. “She’s only got a few months to live. Lung cancer, isn’t it, Elizabeth?”

  “Yes. How did you know?”

  “I had Roth break into your doctor’s office the other night and check your records. I finally realized why you haven’t been able to shake that cough. Funny how imminent death has a way of purging the soul,” Webb growled. “And it all sounds so heroic. You giving us up. But you took the coward’s way out. You only gave Robinson enough to get him started. You knew it would take him time to figure everything out. That way you wouldn’t be around when everything blew up.”

  “Do you blame me?” There was no remorse in her voice.

  “But we found out about Robinson,” Webb continued. “And then this one got involved.” He pointed at Jesse. “And everything spun out of control, didn’t it?”

  “Yes,” she answered softly.

  “You had to take care of her.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re the one who called her yesterday when we had her nailed at the motel.”

  “Yes.”

  Webb shook his head. “You’ve enjoyed the success I brought Sagamore. The money, the awards. You’re a hypocrite, Elizabeth. A goddamn hypocrite!”

  “Get over here with me, Jesse,” Elizabeth directed, ignoring Webb’s invective.

  Jesse darted away from Finnerty and Webb to Elizabeth.

  “We’re getting out of—”

  But before Elizabeth could finish, Webb flicked off the flashlight and the tunnel turned pitch black.

  * * *

  —

  Simultaneously, FBI agents poured through every exterior door of Finnerty’s house, systematically fanning out through the massive structure. When the lead agent signaled that the mansion had been secured, Senator Walker moved quickly up the brick path escorted by five agents. In the living room he found Art Mohler dead on the floor and David Mitchell sprawled on the couch, blood staining his blue shirt and smearing the manila folder on his lap. “What the hell happened?” Walker demanded of the lead agent.

  “I—”

  “Webb saw someone outside,” Mitchell interrupted, his voice barely audible. He gazed at the lead agent. “Where’s Jesse? And Webb and Finnerty?”

  The agent shook his head. “I don’t know. They aren’t in the house.”

  “What?” David asked angrily. “How could they just walk out of here with her? Didn’t you guys have the place surrounded?”

  “No one came out of the house,” the agent assured David. “And they aren’t inside. We’ve searched everywhere. We’re getting the dogs brought in, but that will take a few minutes.”

  “Dammit!” Walker yelled. “I knew we shouldn’t have done it this way.” He picked up a picture from a table beside the couch and smashed it in the fireplace. He pointed a finger at David. “When you and Jesse came to me yesterday and suggested this I knew it was wrong. I knew we should have just let the FBI round these people up.”

  “No,” David said quietly. “Jesse wanted this back.” He nodded at the hospital folder in his lap. “She was afraid it would get lost in the chaos.”

  “No folder can be important enough to lead to all this,” Walker said, grim faced.

  “I didn’t think so either,” David said. “But I was wrong. It meant everything to her.”

  “Mr. Mitchell, I suggest we get you to a hospital.” The agent pointed toward David’s bloody shoulder.

  He shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere until I know where Jesse is.”

  * * *

  —

  Instinctively, Jesse flung herself to the tunnel’s dirt floor as Elizabeth fired in the direction of Webb and Finnerty. She heard a scream from one of the men and then several thunderous reports and flashes of light from Finnerty’s .38. Elizabeth went down, a hole in her heart.

  Jesse jumped to her feet and moved into the darkness, feeling her way along the wall as best she could, going as fast as she dared. Behind her she heard groans and someone getting to their feet. Then another shot, and another. The bullets hissed past, caroming off the walls, echoing evilly in the blackness. How many shots in total from the .38 now? Five or six?

  And then there was a tiny ray of feeble light ahead. She moved faster. The other end of the tunnel. Suddenly her shin struck a wooden step and she screamed in pain. But there was no time to worry about the pain. She could hear someone running toward her.

  She scampered up the stairway toward the thin stream of light, came to a set of small double doors and burst through them, tumbling onto the thick cover of leaves on the forest floor. The footsteps were coming up the stairs fast. She scrambled to her feet and raced toward the jeep twenty feet away.

  “Stop or I’ll shoot!” Webb yelled, standing on the top step, holding Finnerty’s .38 with both hands.

  Jesse stopped still, five feet from the jeep. “Dammit,” she whispered to herself.

  “Get your hands up!” Webb screamed. Perhaps Jesse had gotten Elizabeth’s gun, Webb suddenly realized as he moved toward her.

  She turned slowly around, hands in the air.

  Webb stopped a few feet away, gasping for breath. He glanced at the jeep. “I was thinking of having you drive.” His eyes narrowed. “But that would be stupid. Never put someone else in control.” He brought the .38 up and pointed it at her chest.

  Jesse realized Webb was going to fire. That this was it. She lunged at him and watched in horror as his finger depressed the trigger and the hammer released. But there was only a click. No blast from the barrel. The gun was empty.

  And then she was on him, adrenaline coursing through her body like floodwater through a dam. She knocked him to the ground, smashed the gun from his hand and fell on top of him, pinning his face to the leaves. But he was a large man, still in good shape despite his age, and he tossed Jesse away like a rag doll. He struggled to his feet and staggered toward the jeep.

  Jesse stuck her leg in Webb’s path and tripped him
. And she was on him again, just trying to keep him pinned to the ground. Suddenly she heard the dogs on scent, barking and baying as they tore through the tunnel leading the agents to Webb.

  Webb heard the pack too. He moaned as he threw Jesse off one more time, but she grabbed at his legs as he tried to stand and pulled him to the ground once more. Now he was breathing hard, laboring against fatigue. He kicked her in the cheek and crawled over the leaves to the jeep, pulling himself up, struggling with the door handle.

  The German shepherds poured out of the tunnel entrance like lava erupting from a volcano. The agents screamed commands as they too emerged from the blackness and in no time the dogs were on Webb, pulling him from behind the jeep’s steering wheel, ripping and tearing at his arms and legs. He screamed for mercy. And then it was over.

  Epilogue

  David placed both hands on the banister and watched the turquoise water roll gently up to meet the white sand time after time beneath the late afternoon sun. The view from his tenth floor room overlooking the Caribbean was breathtaking. “Carter Webb won’t be awarding black-budget contracts anytime soon.”

  “I guess not,” Jesse said softly as she gazed out over the placid sea.

  Webb, Coleman, Rhodes and Pierce had all received long prison sentences for their roles in the conspiracy. Ted Cowen had hanged himself in his cell before the government had a chance to try him. And Finnerty had died in the tunnel—as had Elizabeth.

  Jesse shook her head. “You really threw me for a loop at Finnerty’s house.”

  “What do you mean?” David asked.

  “When Webb mentioned how you had called him about leaving the file in the trunk of the BMW.”

  “Oh.”

  “I swear, David, for a second I thought—”

  “I just wanted to make sure Webb thought I was working for him.”