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Neither he nor Malone had stopped a thing.
MALONE ABANDONED THE STAIRWELL DOOR, CLIMBING BACK to the first floor, negotiating another hall nearly identical to the one a floor above and finding the second stairway on the far side. He was going to make an end run on the two men he’d seen earlier, but just as he turned the corner for the exit, the stairway door opened.
He darted into the first office he saw and carefully peered around the jamb. A man with a rifle took measure of the hall, then, satisfied that all appeared quiet, emerged. Malone laid his gun down on the carpet and prepared himself, keeping his back to the wall, waiting for the target to pass. As that happened, he lunged, wrapping an arm around the man’s neck from behind, the other hand going for the rifle.
He wrenched the weapon free, spinning the man around and driving a knee into his groin. He’d already felt the body armor and knew that blows above the waist would be futile.
His opponent buckled forward and cried out in pain.
Another knee into the man’s jaw and the body recoiled backward. He readied a third blow, this time a fist to the face, when the man suddenly planted a foot into Malone’s left kidney.
A mist of pain engulfed him.
His adversary ignored the rifle on the carpet and beat a retreat toward the stairway door.
Malone shook off the blow and started his pursuit.
The fleeing shadow turned, pistol in hand.
A backup weapon.
The gun fired.
WYATT CROUCHED LOW AND HEADED FOR THE EXIT DOORS. AS he came close to the glass he turned back, ready to fire, but no one was there.
He took advantage of the quiet and released the doors, fleeing out into the night. Immediately he assumed a position adjacent to the exit, using the exterior brick wall as cover, glancing with caution through the doors back into the lobby.
Three men rushed from the building, out the main entrance.
At first he thought they were circling, readying an attack from the outside, but then he saw the glow of headlights from the front parking lot, the three bolting toward a waiting vehicle.
No way these guys were such bad shots.
They’d been waiting for him and Malone, prepared and equipped, but they’d accomplished nothing except making a lot of noise and shooting up the lobby.
Another shot disturbed the silence.
From inside, an upper floor.
Where was Voccio?
He scanned the blackness and caught sight of the doctor, fifty yards away, hustling toward a parked car. He tore out the gun’s magazine and slammed home a fresh one from his pocket. He glanced back inside and spotted another form emerging from the stairway across the lobby and leaving through the front doors.
Apparently the party was over.
Something was wrong.
He stared back toward where Voccio was entering the car. He should leave, too, with the doctor.
Then it hit him.
That’s exactly what they wanted him to do. His mind performed a rapid calculation and the result struck him like iron.
A growl signaled a cold engine starting.
He opened his mouth to yell.
Voccio’s car exploded.
THIRTY-THREE
FREDERICKSBURG, VIRGINIA
CASSIOPEIA EXAMINED THE DEVICE REVEALED BY HER DIGGING. Somebody had gone to a lot of trouble to listen in on Kaiser’s telephone. Somebody who knew exactly where and what to listen for.
“Who knows you talk to the First Lady?” she asked Kaiser. “And it has to be someone who knows those conversations are numerous and intimate.”
“It’s Danny Daniels. Who the hell else?”
She stood from the wet ground and walked closer, exiting the shrubbery that encased the garage.
“It’s not the president,” she said in a whisper.
“He knows Pauline and I are close.”
“Are you married?”
The question seemed to take Kaiser aback. Edwin Davis had told her about the house, the neighborhood, and that Kaiser was a player in both the Virginia and the capital social scenes. Her extensive charity work included serving on the board of directors for the Library of Virginia and on several state advisory councils. But he hadn’t mentioned much about her personal life.
“I’m a widow.”
“Mrs. Kaiser, somebody tried to kill the president of the United States today. Somebody who knew exactly when and where he would be in New York. Your phones are being monitored. I need you to answer my question. Who would know to do this? Either talk to me or I’m calling the Secret Service and you can talk to them.”
“Pauline is on the verge of a nervous breakdown,” Kaiser said. “I’ve heard it in her voice for weeks now. She’s been through hell far too long. What happened today with Danny could send her over. If you keep this pressure on her, she’s going to snap.”
“Then she needs professional help.”
“That’s not so easy when you’re the First Lady.”
“It’s not so easy for a woman who wants to blame her husband for the tragic death of their daughter. A woman who did not have the courage to leave the man, but instead stays, keeps everything welled inside her, and makes life all his fault.”
“You’re one of Danny’s groupies, aren’t you?”
“Yep. I love men with power. It’s a turn-on.”
Kaiser caught the sarcasm. “That’s not what I meant. He has an effect on women. They did a poll a few years ago and nearly eighty percent of women favored him. Since they’re a majority of the voters, it’s easy to see why he’s never lost an election.”
“Why do you hate him?”
“I don’t. I just adore Pauline, and I know he could not care less about her.”
“You still haven’t answered my question,” she said.
“Nor you mine.”
She appreciated strong women. She was one herself. She assumed Kaiser’s talent was simply being herself-easy, natural-giving and accepting without question, never thinking much beyond the moment. She’d hoped there would be nothing to find here. A dead end. Unfortunately, that was not the case.
“Pauline has always needed someone to talk to,” Kaiser said. “A person she could trust. Long ago, I became that for her. Since she moved into the White House, that’s become even more important.”
“Except that you can’t be trusted.”
She saw that Kaiser realized the implications of what lay in the ground a meter or two away.
“Who else knew about that New York trip?” she asked her again.
“I can’t say.”
“Okay. We can do this another way.”
She found her cellphone and hit the speed dial button for the White House. Two rings and a male voice answered.
“Do it,” she told him, then ended the call.
“There’s a Secret Service agent in contact with your telephone provider, both landline and mobile. You have two accounts. The company has already been served a subpoena and has the information prepared. Under the circumstances, we weren’t going to invade your privacy unless necessary.”
Her phone rang. She answered, listened, then clicked off.
Defeat filled Shirley Kaiser’s face.
As it should.
“Tell me about the one hundred and thirty-five calls between you and Quentin Hale.”
HALE ENTERED WHAT HAD ONCE BEEN AN OUTDOOR KITCHEN and smokehouse. Now the building, with its pine walls, sash windows, and glazed cupola, served as a meeting hall that all four families utilized. The sixteen members of Adventure’s crew had been roused from their beds, including the yacht’s captain. Most lived within half an hour of the estate on land bought by their families generations ago. He could not fathom that any one of them would betray their heritage.
But apparently someone had.
All sixteen men standing before him had signed the current Articles, pledging their loyalty and obedience in return for a specified portion of the Commonwealth’s plunder. Granted, th
eir respective percentages were small, but combined with health insurance, workers’ compensation, and disability pay, theirs was a comfortable living.
He caught the uncertain looks on their faces. Though it wasn’t unusual for things to happen in the middle of the night, it was definitely unusual for events to involve the entire complement on land.
“We have a problem,” he told them.
He watched the faces, assessing them, recalling the four who’d lifted the gibbet and tossed his screaming accountant into the ocean.
“One of you is a traitor.”
He knew those words would grab their attention.
“Today we all were involved on a mission, one that was of great concern to the entire company. A traitor died, and one of you breached the silence we all pledged to maintain.”
None of the sixteen said a word. They knew better. The captain spoke until he said he was ready to listen.
“It saddens me to think that one of you betrayed us.”
