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Nothing happened.
Not for several interminable moments.
Finally the door slid closed and they began their descent.
Barrie stared at the crack where the two doors met. When they reached the first floor and those doors opened, and someone was standing there demanding to know just what the hell they thought they were doing, could she shoot that person?
She was thankful that her mettle wasn’t tested. There was no one waiting for the elevator when it reached the ground floor. She stepped out and checked the corridor. “A lot of people are in the commissary,” she told Gray. There were sounds of conversation coming from that area. “It must be break time.”
“Go the other way,” he said. “That can’t be the only exit. We’ll go out through another door and circle around.”
“I noticed French doors in the solarium.”
They threaded their way back through the first-floor corridors. The French doors in the solarium were locked, but the latch was on the inside. She hesitated. “It could be wired to a security system.”
“We’ll take our chances.”
She undid the latch and pushed open the door. The ensuing screech was earsplitting. Barrie turned in the direction from which it came and reflexively fired the pistol.
A tropical bird in a tall white cage sent up a terrible racket, although her shot had wounded only a Boston fern. The bird’s ruff was standing on end, his multicolored wings were extended and flapping, and he was still screeching. “Shit!” she said.
They left the building at a dead run, although hospital personnel were obviously accustomed to the bird’s temper tantrums because no one was pursuing them. Keeping to the shadowed perimeter, they skirted the well-tended yard until they reached the parking area.
“Hold it,” Gray said.
She stopped, turned. She was breathing heavily. He seemed barely winded as he listened to the voice in his earpiece. He clicked on his transmitter. “Something in the employee parking lot?” he said into the microphone.
The other Secret Service agent! Barrie had almost forgotten him.
Her eyes automatically swung up to the roof, but she couldn’t see him. Gray motioned her forward with his chin. She turned and began running again. Gray was right behind her, but she heard him say with feigned puzzlement, “No, she hasn’t been disturbed.” Then he shouted, “Damn! He’s on to us, Barrie.”
She ran full out the rest of the way to the pickup. When they reached it, she opened the rear door of the camper and clambered inside, then assisted Gray as he stepped in and laid Vanessa on the bench along the wall.
“Hold on!” he said as he leaped out the door and slammed it behind him. Mome
nts later, the pickup was gunned to life and they began to move. Seconds after that, a shrill alarm pierced the peaceful countryside surrounding Tabor House.
* * *
“Delicious pie, Amanda. Thank you.”
David smiled up at her as she picked up his empty dessert plate and placed it on a serving tray. “Thank you, David. I’m glad you enjoyed it. Would you care for more?”
“No, thanks.” He patted his belt. “Every calorie counts.”
Unsmiling, she asked if he would like more coffee. He accepted, watching her closely as she refilled his cup. Then she excused herself, taking the serving tray with her and leaving him and George alone in the Allans’ comfortable living room.
“Amanda never has warmed to me, has she?” David said.
“Want something in that?” George was at the liquor cabinet, adding a liberal amount of B&B to his coffee.
“No, thanks.”
The President had invited himself over for the evening. George’s two sons had reacted with predictable excitement. President Merritt had asked to see their homework and had written each a note to take to school the next day to share with their classmates.
After taking them away to bed, Amanda had offered to serve him and George pie and coffee in the living room. Her manner bordered on hostility, but David was used to her cold shoulder and, as he had for years, ignored it and pitied poor George for being married to such an icicle.
George returned to the sofa with his spiked coffee. David noticed that the doctor’s hands were shaking enough to rattle the delicate china. “Why so nervous, George? If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had a guilty conscience.”
