Oath Of Honor

Chapter Six

Senator Franklin Russo glanced at the brass clock on his desk. Nine p.m. Headlights flickered through the trees along the approach road to his Idaho mountain retreat, alerting him to a vehicle arriving. Hooker was punctual. He expected that of those who worked for him. That and absolute, unquestioning loyalty.

The doorbell rang and a moment later a soft knock sounded on his study door.

“Come in.”

The door swung open, and his personal aide Derek Sullivan, a thin young blond in khaki pants and a starched striped shirt, said, “Mr. Hooker is here, sir.”

“Good. Have him come in.”

A heavyset middle-aged man with a thick brown mustache flecked with gray strode in. His snow-crusted work boots left muddy streaks on the wide pine plank floors. His broad, rough face was ruddy from the subzero temperatures.

“Close the door, Derek,” Franklin said, “and see that we’re not disturbed.”

“Yes, sir.” Derek backed out and pulled the door shut.

“Hooker,” Franklin said, “what do you have to report?” He didn’t offer Hooker a seat. The man was a hired gun, muscle. Necessary, but not part of his inner circle. He paid him well, and that was all that mattered.

“I’ve got a contact with the connections we need in DC,” Hooker said. “It won’t be cheap.”

“Money is not a factor,” Franklin said, “but discretion is.”

“You don’t need to worry about that. He doesn’t know who I’m working for. He doesn’t want to know.”

“All the better.” Franklin leaned back in his leather swivel chair and steepled his hands in front of his chest, regarding Hooker carefully. His presidential campaign was gaining strength in the heartland, but Andrew Powell was a popular incumbent. He needed to cast doubt on Powell’s ability to lead the country through increasingly troubled times. He needed insurance. This man promised it to him. “What about obtaining the material?”

“He’ll set me up.” Hooker shrugged. “But we might have to get in bed with the militia to accomplish the actual acquisition.”

Franklin shook his head. “I don’t like exposing ourselves to hotheads, and after the fiasco at Matheson’s compound, the whole bunch of them are going to be under surveillance. I can’t afford to be linked to them.”

“That’s what you hired me for—I’ll run interference and make sure nothing blows back on you.”

Hooker smiled, a slow just-short-of-ugly smile that set off warning blips on Franklin’s radar. If Hooker hoped to put him in his debt, he was wrong. Throughout his rapid rise to power in the senate and on the path to winning the presidential nomination, he’d had to make deals and promise paybacks, but he was always careful not to give anyone leverage on him. He never let anyone other than Nora Fleming know the whole of his plans. Nora Fleming was more than his campaign manager. She was the only one who shared his vision—not his wife, not his children, not his staff. As the leader of the Patriot Party, he was running for president on a platform of reinstating traditional American values of family, morality, and religion. His family was an essential element of his image—but Nora was his true support.

“Just remember—plausible deniability,” Franklin said. “We need a lot of distance between my campaign and the activities of these radicals.”

“Not to worry. The inside man at Eugen Corp—”

Franklin held up his hand. “I don’t want to know names or details. Just get it done.”

“Of course.”

“And when it’s over, everyone involved needs to disappear.”

Hooker winced as if Franklin had breached some unspoken rule about what could be spoken out loud. Franklin almost laughed. As if his security wasn’t the best in the world. Even Andrew Powell’s inner sanctum wasn’t as secure as he thought.

“The only way to ensure secrecy is by guaranteeing silence,” Franklin said softly. “I don’t care how you do it.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Hooker finally said. “And the targets?”

“I want the country to know Andrew Powell is not only soft on terrorism and foreign affairs, his whole government is soft. When the people see he can’t protect them, even within our own borders, they’ll make the right and logical choice at the polls.” Franklin lifted a shoulder. “I want a public forum, with media coverage.”

“Civilian casualties could backfire. Look at what happened in Oklahoma.”

“The threat alone will be enough. And if there are casualties…” Franklin waved a hand. “McVeigh and Nichols were amateurs. Hotheads. That’s exactly the reason I don’t want to get involved with another one of these militia groups.”

“You still need foot soldiers—more than that, you need followers who are willing to sacrifice for the cause. You don’t have much choice.”

“Then I want absolute containment. No breaches. No leaks. Nothing that ties us to them or the events.”

“I understand.” Hooker’s eyes went flat. “You don’t need to worry.”

“If we time this right,” Franklin said, “Powell’s standing will plummet before his campaign even gets started. The groundswell of negative publicity will bury him.”

“I’ll keep you informed.”

“Contact me by phone when you have more for me. Good night.”

Hooker let himself out, and Franklin turned off his desk light, letting the room fall into shadow. Through half-closed eyes, he watched the dim glow of Hooker’s taillights recede down the mountain into the darkness. He was forced to consort with unsavory characters in order to achieve his goals. That didn’t bother him. His was the path of righteousness. Someone needed to take back control of the nation, to redirect America’s course and restore her to greatness and power. Someone needed to remind Americans of the true path. Andrew Powell needed to be removed from office. His daughter, who Powell flaunted in the face of God-fearing people, was a sinner, even more so for her insistence on pushing her unholy relationship in the faces of good Americans. Blair Powell was becoming a national icon, and that too must end. He wouldn’t rest until both were gone.

*

“So,” Evyn said, pushing her empty dishes aside and drawing her coffee cup nearer, “do you come from a family of doctors?”

Wes carefully placed her fork beside her plate and reached for her espresso. They’d spent most of the meal talking about the job—the daily briefings between PPD and the WHMU, coordinating schedules, protocol when POTUS traveled, security and medical preparation for potential threats—safe topics. This one wasn’t so safe, and she was a little surprised that Evyn, who had maintained a cool professional distance all night, breached the neutral zone into something personal.

“Sorry,” Evyn said with no inflection, “is that a sensitive subject?”

Wes shook her head. “No, it isn’t. Sorry. I was just thinking.” She waited while the server cleared their places. “I’m the middle child, more or less, of four, and the first in my family to go to college. My mother and father were blue-collar workers. My mother in the garment industry, my father on the docks. He died in an accident when I was six.”

“Hey, I’m sorry. If this is—”

“No, that’s okay. I have a great family. I grew up in my grandmother’s house in South Philadelphia with my mother and my sisters. It was pretty crowded, but it was…” She thought about the shared bedrooms, the squabbles over the bathroom in the morning, the big wooden table in the sunny kitchen smelling of home-cooked food, counters crowded with dishes and everyone jostling for a place at the table. “It was noisy and warm and full of life.” She smiled. “It was great.” She looked up from her espresso. Evyn was staring at her as if she were a stranger. She wondered what she had just revealed and then realized it didn’t matter. She had nothing to hide.

“You miss them,” Evyn said softly.

“Every day.” Wes’s chest tightened, as much from the tenderness in Evyn’s eyes as from the memories.

Evyn sipped her coffee. “Okay—not following in the family mold like me. Why did you want to be a doctor?”

Wes laughed. “You know, I practiced that answer a hundred times when I was applying to medical school, knowing I would be asked about it over and over again. I never did have a very good answer. I just knew I wanted to touch people. Make a difference somehow.” She looked out across the empty restaurant. They were the last ones at a table, but the servers hadn’t rushed them and none were in sight now. They were alone. She hadn’t been alone with a woman in longer than she could remember. She didn’t date—given her circumstances it wasn’t that easy. She might not necessarily agree with all the navy’s regulations, but she followed them. Most women she might have connected with were below her rank and off-limits. She sometimes thought that might be a convenient excuse, but then, what did that matter. If she was fooling anyone, it was only herself. No harm, no foul. And those rare nights when she was restless and vaguely unsettled, she went for a run until she was tired enough to sleep.

Wes caught herself up short. This wasn’t a date, even if the whole evening was something out of the ordinary. Evyn was still watching her. What had Evyn asked? Oh, the “why a doctor?” question. She almost gave a stock reply, but the intensity of Evyn’s gaze derailed her. “Maybe I thought if I made a difference in someone else’s life, it would make mine mean more.”

“Sounds like you got your wish, then. You’re about to have a patient whose health affects the whole world.” Evyn paused. “Does that make the job harder?”

“No,” Wes said instantly. “If and when the time comes he’s my patient—and hopefully that day never comes—I’ll be taking care of Andrew Powell, not the president.”

“His office doesn’t intimidate you?”

“No, but Lucinda Washburn does,” Wes said, laughing.

“You and everyone else.” Evyn grinned.

“What about you? You said you always knew what you wanted to do?” For a few seconds, Wes thought Evyn wouldn’t answer. Sometimes Evyn’s face closed so quickly it was like watching shutters slam against a window in a storm. Then Evyn’s posture relaxed and she smiled, and the shutters opened once again and sunlight streamed through. “Well, come on. In my family? Like there was really anything else to consider. Don’t we all want to grow up like our heroes?”

“So who was yours?”

“Oh, my father, no question. He’s big and blustery and solid and brave. I didn’t get to be big, but I hope…” Even in the dim candlelight, her blush was apparent. “Never mind.”

“You hope you’re solid and brave?”

“Geez, forget I said that, will you?”

“I’ll pretend I’ve forgotten, if you’d like.”

“Okay,” Evyn said, blowing out a breath. “Change of subject.”

“Fair enough.”

“So…what about…besides your mother and grandmother and sisters. Anyone else…close?”

“My grandmother passed on at the grand old age of ninety-six,” Wes said, sorting through the obscure question and deciding Evyn was asking whether she was single or not. While trying to formulate an answer, she was saved by her phone signaling a text message. At this hour, it had to be important. “Excuse me.”

She fished her phone out of her pocket and checked the message. “Someone keeps late hours. I’ve just been informed by the duty officer at the House to report at zero eight hundred tomorrow.”

“WST.”

“I’m sorry?” Wes shoved her phone back in her pocket.

“Washburn Standard Time. Which means pretty much any time.”

“Well, I guess I’m going to get the last of my security clearance taken care of.”

“Formality. You wouldn’t be here if there was any question.” Evyn rose. “I guess that’s our signal to get moving.”

“I suppose,” Wes said, rising with a twinge of regret. She shrugged into her topcoat while Evyn sorted through bills and left money for the bill on the table. Out of habit, Wes reached over, lifted Evyn’s black raincoat from the hook beside their booth, and held it open for her. Evyn hesitated, then turned and slid her arms into the coat.

“Thanks,” Evyn said.

“You’re welcome.”

Evyn turned, her eyes finding Wes’s. It was way too late to pretend they were just grabbing dinner, and with any other woman she wouldn’t hesitate. But then Wes wasn’t like any other woman she’d ever met. She should have kept her mouth shut, but words popped out. “Nightcap?”

Wes glanced left into the bar, mostly empty now, shortly before closing. She was oddly not tired, even though she’d been on the move for eighteen hours. She’d spent more time with Evyn than she had with anyone in months and hadn’t even noticed the time passing. Maybe she should take that as a sign. She shook her head. “I’d like to, but I’ve got a really early morning tomorrow.”

Evyn smiled crookedly. Saved. She should take that as a sign. “Yeah, me too.” She started walking toward the door. “Where are you staying?”

Wes angled beside her, pushed the door open, and held it as Evyn passed through. “The Marriott across town.”

“A hotel? You shouldn’t be staying in a hotel. O’Shaughnessy had an apartment that came with the job.”

Wes smiled at Evyn’s indignation on her account. “I wasn’t supposed to be here tonight at all, but Lucinda Washburn wanted me on-site. So here I am.”

“Well, what she wants is law.”

“I gathered.” Wes fell into step as they walked toward the T-Bird down the block. “I don’t usually get my orders at zero one hundred.”

Evyn laughed, opened the driver’s door, and slid in. Wes skirted around the other side and settled in the passenger seat. “You’ll have to get used to that.”

“The text orders, or the no-notice thing?” Wes clipped her seat belt and stretched her legs out under the dash.

Evyn started the car and pulled out. “Both. When she wants something done, it means now or five minutes ago.”

“Sounds like it’s pretty much twenty-four seven call. Feels like being a resident again.”

“And here you thought you were getting this fancy title and a cushy job,” Evyn teased.

Wes laughed. “I was hoping for a big corner office and a lot of fanfare.”

“I’ll just bet.” Evyn glanced at her. “What were you really expecting?”

“Truthfully? I don’t have a clue. Until a day and a half ago, I thought my next posting would be another academic position. All I know about this one is that I’m going to get to see the world, just like the recruiters always promised me.”

“Don’t get your hopes up.” Evyn snorted. “It’s a campaign year, remember? You’re going to see so many cornfields and listen to so many boring speeches you’re going to wish you were anywhere else doing anything else.”

“Thanks for the inspirational speech. I can’t wait.”

“Sorry. I’ve been on the campaign trail in an election year. Prepare to be perpetually tired, poorly fed, and probably verbally abused.”

“Got it. I imagine it’s pretty tense for you.”

“No more so than usual,” Evyn said flatly.

“Right.” Wes was getting used to the way Evyn deflected anything personal. Obviously, the Secret Service never showed weakness. Or maybe that was just Evyn. Wes wondered just how much that shield of invulnerability cost her and if she ever let down her defenses.

Evyn slowed at an intersection, turned right, and looked over at Wes. “It’s tough, but exhilarating too, you know? Being right there. Being part of something big.”

“I think I understand. I’m used to being behind the scenes. Observing.”

“That’s all about to change, Captain.”

Wes stared at Evyn’s profile, aglow in the moonlight. “I think it already has.”