Power Play (An FBI Thriller) (23 page)

N
atalie slumped against the seat back of the Beemer aware her daughter was sending her worried looks.

Finally, when Perry coasted along an empty street, she said, “Knock it off, Perry. I’m fine, it’s poor Hooley—” She broke off, cleared her throat. “Drive to your condo, then I’ll drive myself home.”

“Nope,” Perry said.

“What do you mean, ‘nope’?”

“I don’t want you going back home again tonight. It’s a crime scene, your bedroom probably has techs crawling all over it. There might still be police activity. You don’t need to go through anything else tonight.” She gave her a grin. “Besides, you’re my mother. I love you more than any other soul in the world, so that means you’re coming home with me—no, don’t argue. I’m driving, after all.”

“You know by now everyone will be gone. No one else is going to come around tonight. Besides, Luis is there to protect me.”

Perry came to a smooth stop at a red light, wondering why there was a red light operating at 4:00 a.m. She turned to face her mother. “Do you remember when I was a little girl and I’d have a nightmare and crawl in with you and Dad? Well, now it’s you and me and you’ve had a whopper of a nightmare and I’ve got a bed big
enough for the both of us. Davis will be sleeping on the sofa. We’ll be safe and sound and I won’t have to worry about either of us. So no more arguments, Mom.”

After a moment, Natalie said, “My sneakers still aren’t laced up.”

“You should try Velcro.”

“Nah, those are old-lady shoes.” Where had that negligent bit of humor come from? She leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.

They drove through the empty streets, Davis in his Jeep behind them. Natalie said suddenly, “Perry, I remember Arliss was concerned that you and Day were getting too serious about each other.”

Perry arched an eyebrow at her mother. “Why our being involved would distress Aunt Arliss is beyond me. I told you Day proposed the other night, and, knowing Day, he told her about it. You’d think she’d be cheering for him. I mean, she’s known me forever, which means she’s got to know I’m not a crappy person. Why did you think of this at four o’clock in the morning?”

Natalie’s eyes were closed again. “It popped into my head, I don’t know why. I told Arliss I would tell her today what I was going to do.”

Perry made a left turn onto Vanderbilt Street. It was quiet, and dark as a pit if not for the streetlights. As she turned her mom’s Beemer into her driveway, she said, “I don’t want you to resign, Mother. It wouldn’t be right; I don’t care what sort of pressure Aunt Arliss lays on your head. Please promise me you won’t let her talk you into it.”

“I wish it were that simple, Perry, but you know it’s not. Think about Arliss and Thorn—they have an administration to run, an
election to win. Maybe my resigning is for the best. I wouldn’t have to live here, not really. Maybe a horse ranch in Montana. I could raise Thoroughbreds, breed and race them. Your father always loved horses. I imagine if he hadn’t died, that’s what we would have done when we retired. What do you think?”

Perry turned off the engine, faced her mother. “You would be out shooting snakes within a week, you’d be so bored. It’s Dad who wanted to raise horses, not you.”

“I could live near Big Sky. You love to ski, as do I. We could—”

Perry leaned over and pulled her mother close. “No, absolutely not. It’s out of the question. Listen to me, you will not resign. You will tell Arliss to try for a little loyalty, okay? You will tell her the FBI will figure out who’s behind this and put a stop to it. You will not get out of Dodge because it would make things easier for Arliss and the president. And what happened tonight, won’t that change everything? No one can doubt someone’s trying to kill you, not after tonight.”

Natalie felt her daughter’s hair soft against her cheek, smelled the light scent of lemon, felt the strength and determination in that healthy young body. It had been only the two of them for so many years now. Life was so incalculable. Like Brundage, she could be dead tomorrow, from an accident, from a disease, if the killer didn’t succeed. She hugged her daughter closer. Perry was in danger along with her and she couldn’t bear it. She had to bring it to a close, had to. She saw Davis’s Jeep headlights swing in behind them. She said against Perry’s hair, “I was wondering if I do resign if all the attempts against both of us would stop.”

Perry had wondered the same thing, but only for an instant. She said now, no doubt in her voice, “You know to your gut
whoever is behind this wants you destroyed, and that includes your career, your good name, even your life, and”—she paused for a moment—“and me. A very thorough revenge indeed.”

“Revenge—but why? I can’t think of anyone I possibly hurt so much to bring on this sort of—madness.”

Davis stood outside the Beemer as they talked. He’d checked all around the building, seen no one. He waited for another moment, then opened the door. Slowly, the women separated.

“No one’s around,” he said matter-of-factly. “Come on, let’s get inside.”

Ten minutes later, the condo was silent. No one had bothered with an alarm clock.

The call with news about Hooley woke them up at ten minutes before eight in the morning.

Washington Memorial Hospital

Saturday morning

C
onnie waited as long as she could manage before she called everyone with the good news. Hooley survived the night. They’d pulled his breathing tube out at the crack of dawn and he was breathing on his own. He was stable, the nurses had said. She repeated every positive word she’d heard.

She stood over him, lightly tracing her fingers over his still face. His breathing and heart rate were steady, and he seemed comfortable. There was still a clear tube coming out of his chest to draw off fluid, and that had to hurt, but he was on heavy-duty meds and only sort of awake. She really didn’t want him to wake up anytime soon, because she knew he’d be in pain. And sleep healed. He was so strong, she thought, so strong. He would pull through this, he had to.

But he did wake up. When he opened his eyes, Connie saw first blankness, then confusion, and she said quietly, “Mark, it’s me, Connie. You’re safe, you’re going to be fine. You don’t have to try to talk. Go back to sleep, it’s the best thing for you.”

He wasn’t quite sure what she’d said, but her face and the sound
of her voice so close reassured him. She was smiling, and surely that was a good sign. He didn’t feel much of anything, no pain, and he wasn’t about to test that out by moving. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton—heavy and thick, with strange blurred thoughts that ricocheted here and there. He blinked, trying to clear his mind; it did, a bit. His mouth was so dry, but he couldn’t say her name, but he tried, a small sound, but it got her attention.

“You’re thirsty. I’m sorry,” Connie said, and held a straw to his mouth. “Only a little bit, okay?”

He took a few sips, managed to whisper, “Connie.”

“Yes, I’m right here. No one’s going to get near you, Mark. You’re perfectly safe with me.”

“Good,” he said. “That’s good. I’m really glad I’m not dead,” and he drifted away, his brain closing down, and everything was fine.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw Davis Sullivan standing over him. He was saying his name over and over. Well, not his name—

“That’s right, Beef, open those baby blues because you and I have got beers to drink, hoops to shoot, wrestling to do, unless you’re afraid of me.”

Out came a thin gruff voice. “Afraid of you, pretty boy? In your dreams. You’d last five seconds.” Was that skinny little voice really his? He sounded pathetic.

He must have barely made a sound, because Davis was leaning close to him now. “Yeah, maybe. Right now, though, you can’t even pee on your own, so save your strength for the pretty nurses.”

Hooley started to laugh, but it hurt so bad he gasped. He felt Sullivan’s hand tighten on his forearm.

“I’m okay,” he whispered. “Connie says I’ll be okay.”

“You’d better be okay or I’ll sic Savich on you. Talk about the big mean dog, he’d put you on the mat in under five seconds at the gym. You scared the crap out of us, Beef.”

Hooley wanted to laugh, this time simply because he was alive, but he knew better. He did manage a small grin without the pain slamming him again. “My older brother called me Beef—short for beef on the hoof.”

“I thought you only had a sister. Did Connie tell you she’s on her way from Denver to coddle you?”

It wasn’t pain that made Hooley want to groan. Margie was a sweetheart, but she would fuss and bother, treat him like he was eight years old again. “Aren’t you a thoughtful bastard.”

“I do my best. I didn’t call her, Connie did, your doctor insisted. Now, what’s this about a brother?”

Hooley whispered, “Kevin. He was career Army, a major. He died, in Iraq.” His breathing hitched for a moment, then, “I was proud of him. Is Mrs. Black okay?”

“I’m sorry about your brother. Mrs. Black is fine. She and Perry are on their way in. As for Savich—ah, here he is now.”

Savich looked down at the wide bandages wrapped around Hooley’s chest, saw the drains were clear of blood. He looked good, considering. Hooley would survive this. He said quietly, “I spoke to Dr. Proctor. He said he’d kick us out in five because he wants to check you over. He’s pleased with how you’re doing, so keep it up. I don’t want to wear you out, Hooley, but that doesn’t give us a lot of time. If it becomes too much, you close your eyes and we’ll leave you alone. Are you up to telling us anything about last night? Anything Natalie and Connie don’t know?”

Hooley felt a stab of pain and stayed silent, coming to grips with it. He nodded toward the cup, and Davis placed the straw on
his tongue. He managed to suck a little. Davis closed his hand around the pain medicine dispenser lying at his side. “Press the button for a shot of morphine. You don’t want to chase the pain, Beef, you want to stay in front of it.”

Hooley pressed the button. After a few moments, the pain seemed to float away, or maybe he was the one doing the floating, he didn’t know, nor did he particularly care. He saw the two men standing beside him, looking down at him, and was baffled for a moment. Then he remembered the question. “It was so bloody dark,” he said. “I don’t know how he saw me well enough to throw that knife in my chest. Have you found him?”

Davis said, “Not yet. He’s either gone to ground, trying to deal with it himself, or he’s found himself a doctor. He hasn’t been to an ER.”

“He wouldn’t go to an ER. That would be stupid,” and Hooley closed his eyes as his head fell to the side. He wouldn’t be talking anymore for a while.

Savich’s home

Saturday morning

W
hat would you think if we moved in with Natalie?”

“What?” Sherlock whirled around to face him, scrambled eggs falling off the spatula in her hand.

Savich fiddled with a slice of wheat toast. “Well, with Hooley down, she could use the protection of our sleeping down the hall. It’s been tough to concentrate on helping her with Blessed hanging over us like a black cloud of doom.”

“That’s true, but moving in? No, Dillon, I don’t think it’ll come to that. The assassination attempt on the ambassador to the United Kingdom is all over the news, on the Internet, and that means the State Department have already sent over agents to protect her. They’ll wrap her in a blanket and form a circle with H-and-Ks around her.

“Do you know, this whole deal with Natalie, it feels like Blessed in a way. Like obsession, like someone has set a course and now won’t, or can’t, back down until it’s over. Seems to me it goes real deep.”

“Like a wound that never healed, that will fester until he finds a way to make her pay?”

“Yes, that’s it exactly.”

Savich said, “Blessed isn’t going away, either, and he knows where we live. He’ll try for us here sooner or later, we both know that and need to face it head-on. It might have happened last night if we hadn’t had all those people over for dinner. Sean is with his grandmother for safekeeping, but what about you? About us?”

Sherlock didn’t notice the scrambled eggs on the kitchen floor. “We could ask a couple of agents to hang out with us here or, better yet, they could hunker down in a warm car outside. What’d I’d really like is for Blessed to come back to the house so we can end him. Then we can fetch Sean and Astro from your mom’s and get our lives back on track.”

Savich realized the eggs were burning, grabbed the skillet off the stove, turned off the flame. He took the spatula from her hand, but again Sherlock didn’t notice. She started pacing the kitchen. “When you left for the hospital this morning to see Hooley, I looked around the neighborhood—yes, I was very careful—to make sure Blessed wasn’t lurking around. I found a candy wrapper in the bushes. I think he was hiding here last night, waiting for a chance to get to us. We need to act, Dillon. I’m thinking Blessed will come back to the house tonight.”

He sat her down and kneaded her tense shoulders. “All I know for sure is that he’s committed to killing us and that’s not going to happen.”

Sherlock leaned her head up to look at him upside down. “Let’s stay up tonight and wait for him.”

He leaned down, kissed her mouth. “One thing in our favor, Blessed’s a lousy shot. Let’s do it.”

He looked down at his watch. “Now we need to head out to Quantico if we’re going to meet Davis there. He’s bringing his recording of Milton Holmes’s voice to play for Carlos Acosta. We can say hello to Nicholas Drummond if we have the time.”

Savich waved to Mr. MacPherson catty-cornered across the street as they walked out the door. He was sitting on the top step of his porch, his new puppy, Gladys, leaping around him and chasing a bright red ball.

They hit horrendous traffic on the way to Quantico, made worse by earsplitting construction and a few dead stops for huge dump trucks filled with gravel crawling across the road. Savich got a call from Natalie as they waited. Sherlock couldn’t make out what it was about. When he punched off, he said matter-of-factly, even as he steered the Porsche between two big SUVs, “Natalie and I are going to see the president at two o’clock this afternoon. He was informed about the attempt on her life last night and asked to see her. She said she was looking forward to it, now that there were no more questions about her honesty. She said it would be useful if I came along, in case he had any questions for the FBI.”

Sherlock punched him in the arm. “I should have guessed what it was all about, given how excited you are.”

•   •   •

Carlos had no idea
if his caller’s distorted voice was Milton Holmes or not. Savich cheered him up by leaving him Isabel’s new cell number.