First Family (47 page)

J
ANE HAD FIGURED IT OUT
. She was on her way to Georgetown, to eat at her favorite French restaurant just off M Street on Wisconsin. She was going with her brother, Tuck, and two other friends. And the usual Secret Service detail. The advance team had already gone over every inch of the restaurant. Then an overlap squad had been deployed to babysit the space until the First Lady and her guests arrived to make sure no terrorist, nutcase, or local bomber could take up residence in the interim and wait for his target to arrive.

The plan to eat here had been hastily arranged, because the First Lady had decided to go at the last minute. Because of that the Secret Service had had to really scramble to do their job, but they were used to it. Particularly lately, with Jane Cox, who had been all over the map schedule-wise since her niece had been taken.

The meal was served, the wine was drunk, and every so often Jane would snatch a look at her watch. Tuck was oblivious to this. He was too focused on his own problems to notice much else. Jane had chosen the other two guests solely based on their inability to observe anything that was outside the realm of power politics. After the perfunctory discussion regarding what had happened to Tuck’s family, they chatted on aimlessly about this senator and that congresswoman, about the state of the election, and the latest polls. Jane just nodded through it all and gave them enough feedback to encourage them to keep going.

And she kept checking her watch.

She had not selected this establishment solely on its excellent menu and wine list. There was another reason.

At five minutes to eleven she signaled her detail chief over at a corner table. He spoke into his wrist radio. A female agent raced to the ladies’ room. She checked to make sure it was clear, gave the all-okay signal, then stood in front of the door barring entry by other female patrons no matter how much in distress their bladders or bowels might be.

The First Lady entered the ladies’ room at two minutes to eleven and went directly to the back and stared at it.

This was why she had come here. It was the only restaurant that she knew of that still had a working pay phone in the ladies’ room.

She had a prepaid phone card. She wanted no credit card record of this call. She dialed the number from memory.

It rang once. Twice. Then someone answered. She braced herself.

“Hello?” the man’s voice said.

“It’s Jane Cox,” she said as clearly as she could.

Sam Quarry sat in his library at Atlee, a fire roaring in the fireplace. He would get the damn poker good and hot tonight. He was using a cloned cell phone that Daryl had bought off a guy he knew that specialized in that line of business, meaning illegal and untraceable.

He swallowed a sip of his favorite local moonshine. In front of him were photos of Tippi and his wife. The scene was all set. It had been years in the planning. Now it was finally here.

“I know it is,” he said slowly. “You’re right on time.”

“What do you want?” she said sharply. “If you’ve hurt Willa—”

He cut her off. “I know you probably got a zillion people all around wondering where you got to, so let me do the talking and we can get this done.”

“All right.”

“Your niece is fine. I’ve got her mother with me too.”

Jane said sharply, “Her mother is dead.
You
killed her.”

“I meant her
real
mother. You knew her as Diane Wright. She goes by Diane Wohl now. She got married, moved, and started over. Didn’t know if you knew that. Or if you even cared.”

Jane stood there in the ladies’ room holding the phone feeling
like she had been shot directly in the head. She put her hand out against the tiled wall to steady herself.

“I don’t know what—”

He cut her off again. “I’m going to tell you what you’re going to have to do if you want to see Willa again in any way other than a corpse.”

“How do I even know you have her?”

“Just listen up then.”

Quarry pulled out a recorder and turned it on, holding it next to the phone. When he’d visited both Willa and Diane he’d had the recorder with him and had secretly taped them.

“Willa first,” he said. Willa’s voice came across clearly as she was talking to Quarry about why he had kidnapped her.

“Now Diane. I thought you might want to listen in about our conversation of her giving up her daughter.”

Diane’s voice came on, and then Quarry’s recorded words where he explained the results of the DNA tests.

He clicked the device off and picked up the phone. “Satisfied?”

“Why are you doing this?” Jane said dully.

“Justice.”

“Justice? Who was harmed by Willa being adopted? We were doing her a favor. The woman didn’t want her. I knew someone who did.”

“I don’t really give a damn about Diane Wohl or making your brother and his wife happy by getting them a little girl to call their own. I needed her and Willa so I could get your attention.”

“Why?” she said in a raised voice.

“Mrs. Cox?” It was the female agent from outside. “Are you okay?”

“Just talking to someone,” she said quickly. “On the phone,” she hastily added.

She turned back to the phone in time to hear Quarry say, “The name Tippi ring any bells, or did you just throw that one right out of your old memory?”

“Tippi?”

“Tippi Quarry. Atlanta,” he added in a louder voice, his gaze directly on his daughter’s photo.

One second, two seconds, three seconds. “Oh my God!”

“Oh my God is right, lady.”

“Listen, please—”

“No,
you
listen. I know everything. I got dates, names, places, the whole ball of wax. Now I’m going to give you an airport to fly to. After you arrive there I’ve got very precise map coordinate points that’ll take you where you’ve got to go. You just give it to your federal flyboys; they’ll know what to make of it. It’s mostly numbers so get some paper and write it down. Now. No room for mistakes.”

Jane fumbled in her purse for pen and paper.

“All right,” she said in a trembling voice.

He gave her the airport location and the additional coordinates.

“You want me to come to this place?”

“Hell no! I want you
both
to come.”

“Both? When?”

Quarry looked at his watch. “Nine hours from now. Exactly. Not a minute before or a minute after if you want that little girl still breathing.”

Jane glanced at her watch. “That’s impossible. He’s in town tonight, but he’s flying to New York tomorrow morning to give a speech to the United Nations.”

“I don’t care if he’s got an appointment with God. If you ain’t there exactly nine hours from now, then the next time you see Willa, she won’t be able to see you back. And those DNA tests I had run will be all over the media along with everything else. I got proof of it all. Spent years of my life doing nothing else. You threw us in the shit, lady, and went on with your life. Well, it’s payback time now. It’s Tippi’s time. It’s
my
damn time!”

“Please, please if you can just give us—”

“Here are your instructions for when you get there. And you better follow them to the letter, ’cause if you don’t, or you sic the FBI on this thing, I’ll know. I’ll know right away. And then Willa dies. And all the truth comes out. And no second term for old Danny boy. Guaranteed!”

Tears were streaming down Jane’s face.

And tears were flowing down Quarry’s cheeks too, as he gazed at the two most important women in his life; both gone from him now forever. Because of the woman he was talking to right now. Because of her. And him.

“Are you listening?” he said quietly.

“Yes,” she gasped.

He gave her the instructions.

She mumbled, “And if we do this, Willa goes free? And you won’t… you won’t tell?”

“I give you my word.”

“That’s all? How can I trust you? I don’t even know who you are.”

“You do know me.”

“I… do?” she said haltingly.

“Hell yes you do. I’m your worst nightmare. And you wanta know why?” Jane didn’t answer. He said, “Because you two were my worst nightmare.”

“Are you her father?” Jane said in a hollow tone.

“The clock starts now,” said Quarry. “So you better get a move on. It’s not like you and the man can just hop in a cab. Ain’t all that power just something special right now? Move as fast as a dead cow.” He clicked off, threw the phone across the room, and sat back exhausted. Then he grabbed the poker, seared the end in the fire, rolled up his sleeve, and burned the last line into his arm. The mark was now complete. The pain was awful. It didn’t get easier with each burn, it got worse. And yet he didn’t make a sound, didn’t grimace, didn’t cry. He just stared at the picture of Tippi while he was doing it.

And felt nothing. Just like his little girl felt. Nothing. Because of them.

Then he quickly left the room and the fire behind. There was a lot to do before they came. The adrenaline was really flowing.

Back in Georgetown, Jane dropped the phone and raced out of the ladies’ room.

The clock was indeed ticking.

S
EAN AND
M
ICHELLE
had packed up the SUV and were saying goodbye to her father and brother.

She hugged them and said, “I’ll call soon, Dad. And I’ll come and stay with you. We can—”

“Get to know each other again?”

“Yeah.”

As they were walking to the door Frank said, “Oh, I almost forgot. A package came for Sean earlier today. I have it in the living room.”

He left and came back a minute later with a small cardboard box. When Sean saw who it was from, he exclaimed, “My two-star bud came through again. More AWOL binders.”

“AWOL binders?” said Bobby.

“A case we’re working,” explained Michelle.

They headed out to the SUV. “I’ll go through the binders, Sean, while you drive. That’ll save time, which we don’t have a lot of.”

“Thanks, Michelle,” he said earnestly. “That’s very nice.”

“Nice has nothing to do with it. You get carsick when you read. I don’t want you puking in my truck.”

Bobby smiled. “Now that’s my little sister.”

They drove off and headed through town toward the highway. Michelle opened the box and took out the first binder.

“It’s a good thing your brother lives here. He can keep your dad company.”

“I plan on keeping him company too. If this has shown me anything, you can take nothing for granted. Here today, gone tomorrow.”

“I’ll stop for some coffee before we hit the interstate,” said Sean. “It seems like we always start these trips late at night.”

“Make mine a double.”

Sean got the coffee and they headed north.

Michelle went through five more binders and then stretched her arms.

“You want me to take over? I can hold the puke in,” he said.

“No, I’ll keep going. But if we don’t find something here, then what?”

“Just pray you do find something in that stack because there is no
then what
.”

Sean checked the clock on the dashboard and then pulled out his phone and pecked in a number.

“Who you calling?”

“Chuck Waters. Want to get an update. Maybe he’s got a lead he’ll share.”

“Right. And I’m going to try out for
Dancing with the Stars.
”

The FBI agent picked up on the second ring. Sean and he talked for a few minutes and then Sean clicked off.

“Anything new?” asked Michelle.

“Jane got the letter in the post office box, and Waters confiscated it.”

“What did it say?”

“Something about a ten-million-dollar ransom. Only Waters thinks she pulled a fast one and fed them a fake letter.”

“Why does he think that?”

“Things in this letter didn’t match the one that was sent with the bowl and spoon. Different typewriters, for instance. And he said there was something funky about the postmark.”

“Why would she pull a switch?”

“She’s got a vested interest in this case, Michelle. From what Betack found with the second letter, this thing is personal to Jane Cox. She didn’t want anyone else to read this last letter.”

“You don’t think Willa is her kid, do you? Maybe she was fooling around on the president before he was the president? Got pregnant and handed it off to her brother and his wife?”

“I might think that except about twelve years or so ago I saw Jane Cox and she wasn’t pregnant.”

“
About
twelve or so years ago?”

“I mean I saw her off and on during that period of time. She couldn’t be Willa’s mom unless they’re lying about the girl’s age.”

Michelle shook her head and continued reading. A half hour later she yelled out, “Turn the car around!”

Sean nearly ran the truck into a Jersey wall. “What is it?”

“Turn the car around.”

“Why?”

“We need to head south.”

Sean put on his turn signal and started to edge to the right lane. “Why south?”

She scanned the pages of the binder she was holding, speaking rapidly. “Three AWOLs from the same address in Alabama, but they all had different last names. Kurt Stevens, Carlos Rivera, and Daryl Quarry. They were supposed to report to their base and be shipped out to Iraq, only they never showed up. MPs went to check it out. Place called Atlee, like an old plantation. Father Sam Quarry, Vietnam vet, owns it. MPs couldn’t find any trace of them.”