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Her breath caught. Seminole? That was the room where the EPA meeting was. She ducked behind the catering cart as the man walked past the alcove. His black suit, shiny shoes, and clean cut made her eyes widen. He looked like…Secret Service?
No, that was impossible. He was probably just hotel security.
“Fisher, I guess it’s just me and you. You secure the loading dock entrance. I’ll deal with the staff. The manager said the meeting schedule is light today, but we don’t want…” his voice faded as the security guard disappeared up the hallway.
Hannah sagged against the alcove wall, wondering what to do next. Whoever was coming to the meeting was clearly important. She needed to get into that room now more than ever.
She pushed her cart through the hallways, ignoring the activity in the kitchen as she passed, looking for a back entrance to Seminole. No luck.
Thoughts of Gina and Lucy filled her mind. Giving up wasn’t an option. If there was more corruption to uncover, Hannah was determined to see who was involved. But how?
A sign at the end of the hall caught her eye. Loading Dock. The giant arrow pointing down the stairs beside it told her just what to do.
Hannah crept down the stairs, keeping her footsteps light. When she reached the lower level, the vinyl floors were replaced with solid concrete. She felt totally exposed in the wide-open space. Her ears perked up at the sound of a gruff male voice coming near.
“Parker, loading dock is secure. T-minus two minutes until Waterford arrives.”
Hannah ducked behind a pallet of boxes. She caught a glimpse of another sharply dressed man. Her eyes widened at the sight of the gun on his hip. Perhaps this wasn’t a great idea. Maybe she should just stand up and announce her presence and they wouldn’t shoot her.
She peered around the other side of her hiding place, silently pleading with herself to toughen up. This is what she signed up for, wasn’t it? It wasn’t as if she were in a war zone. All she had to do was sit here and be quiet.
Her jaw dropped when four Black SUVs pulled into the drive just outside the large loading doors. More men in suits poured out of three of the vehicles. and the man she’d seen earlier started giving orders. The security team spread out, some disappearing up the stairs Hannah had just come down. There was no doubt in her mind that this was Secret Service now, but who? Had the EPA invited the Secretary of the Interior to come sort this out?
When one of the agents opened the back door of the SUV and the president emerged, Hannah pressed a hand over her mouth to hold back her shriek. She started reevaluating everything she knew about President Walters. Was the president involved in this mess down here with Marshand?
She knew President Walters had been in Florida since yesterday, looking at the damage from Hurricane Patricia. But she’d seen the agenda. Her plans had been front page news. This meeting was nowhere on it. This changed everything. If it wasn’t guaranteed to get her shot, Hannah would jump out from behind this stack of disposable cups and start demanding answers.
Instead, she pulled out her phone and began recording the president walking through the deserted loading dock. Hannah had admired the woman who became the first woman president for several years. President Walters was intelligent and commanded respect without being cold or alienating people, a hard thing to do as a woman. Today, she looked tired, her mouth drawn tight and irritation flashing on her face as she all but marched across the mostly empty concrete space.
A loud crack through the air made Hannah yelp, and she ducked instinctively before looking back out toward the middle of the basement. President Walters was on the floor, Secret Service agents swirling around her, guns drawn and yelling instructions. Hannah scanned the entire loading dock with her camera, still hiding. Any minute, the Secret Service Agents would discover her.
Oh my, this was bad. This was very, very bad.
CHAPTERFOUR
WillGilbert sat in his boss’s office as Ross McClain laid out the situation. Though he let no emotion flicker across his face, Will was reeling from the gravity of the news. President Walters had been shot. The vice president was now the acting president, and he suspected foul play.
Which is where Will and Black Tower Security came in.
Ross McClain was former Secret Service, which helped. Even more so, though, Ross was married to the Second Lady’s sister. Which meant Harrison Coulter—the acting POTUS–was practically family.
Flint Raven, the other founder of Black Tower, squeezed a stress ball as he spoke. “The vice president believes the Syndicate is involved in the assassination attempt.”
Will raised his eyebrows. “Why?”
Ross shook his head. “He has intelligence we don’t have access to. But it’s legitimate. My contacts in the Secret Service confirmed. What it took–the inside information it took–to pull this off is nothing short of terrifying.”
Will agreed. “Do we know the shooter?”
Ross shook his head. “FBI and Secret Service have provided a list of possible suspects, but we’re flying blind here. We’ll get their information in real time with Joey’s help. She’s at Zia right now, but we’re bringing her back to HQ as we speak. We’re operating under the assumption that this was Syndicate, so anyone with ties to Shane Lowell and Treadstone is automatically at the top of my list. But we can’t discount the possibility that it was someone else.”
“Foreign?” Will wasn’t looking forward to stepping into the middle of a conflict between the US and a terrorist organization. Especially one with the backing and power to pull something like this off. But this wasn’t the typical foreign extremist style. They wanted shock value, innocent victims, and to make the US government look incompetent.
Of course, there were lots of chauvinistic organizations out there, domestic or otherwise, who had a problem with a woman holding the most powerful office in the world.
A targeted assassination of the president of the United States? Would another country really do that? It was akin to declaring war.
Ross shrugged. “It’s possible, but I don’t think so. My guess is a domestic terrorist group that is more organized and radical than the FBI counted on–or Syndicate, stepping up their game and putting something big into play.”
