Maddux was just being practical. Bill would only weigh him down if a battle broke out. “No offense taken,” Bill replied stoically.
“I’ll be back fast. There have to be other cabins around here we can use, even if it’s just for a few nights. Vacation season’s over.”
“What about the rest of our agents, Shane? We’ve got to warn them right away with that ‘go deep’ code message we’ve got worked out.”
“I’ll send it cell-wide while I’m gone.”
“They can’t know it’s you. Everyone thinks you’re out of the picture.”
“It’ll be anonymous.” Maddux stopped at the cabin’s front door and gestured at Bill, to make sure this advice was fully appreciated. “Keep the lights out and the TV off until I get back. But if someone comes, shoot to kill and ask questions later. Understand?”
“I got it,” Bill agreed as Maddux flipped off the overhead light and closed the cabin’s front door tightly behind him. “I’ll do exactly that.” He picked up the heavy, nickel-plated revolver off the table and gazed at its silhouette in the darkness. “I just hope it makes a difference.”
He eased back into the chair and let the pistol fall to his lap as he sat there in the darkness, wondering if there was another reason Maddux was leaving so quickly.
Then he wondered if he could shoot someone without fully understanding their intentions. It had been a long time since he had.
Baxter smiled thinly as he watched the Espinosa video on his phone one more time. As the woman’s body went limp while Espinosa arched his back in ecstasy, still completely unaware of the murder that had just occurred beneath him. Baxter’s smile grew wider when Espinosa finally realized the terrible truth and stumbled away from the bed awkwardly as he shouted in terror and panic, then threw his clothes on and ran from the apartment like the coward he was.
The same men who’d torn through Roger Carlson’s townhouse and found the Order, as well as the list of agents, had arranged for Espinosa’s young lover to die — and for the justice to be taped having sex with her while she was killed. They were a small team of scarily capable men to whom he’d been introduced by an old contact at ONI. He was very glad they were on his side.
The only task they’d failed him on so far was locating Bill Jensen. But Baxter wasn’t giving up hope on that yet.
He chuckled to himself as he slipped the phone back into his suit. Espinosa was exactly like the phone, thanks to that video — in his pocket.
“Hello, Stewart.”
“Hello, Mr. President,” Baxter answered respectfully, standing up as he always did when President Dorn entered the Oval Office.
He’d been waiting in here for twenty minutes, and he was mad as hell at being kept on ice for so long. But he didn’t show it. He was always the consummate professional. Even if he had been kept waiting because the president was off in some lonely corner of the White House enjoying himself with some young woman the Secret Service had arranged for him while the First Lady was still in Europe.
“How are you tonight, sir?”
“Fine, fine,” Dorn replied impatiently as he eased into the leather chair behind the desk. “Any updates?”
“Yes, sir.” Even though they were alone, Baxter leaned forward and spoke quietly. “Commander McCoy has already initiated her mission. Kodiak Four is operational and achieving success.”
Dorn leaned forward as well and put his elbows on the desk. An intensely satisfied expression came to his face. “Oh?”
“She personally took out one of their senior leaders, a man named John Ward. Two other RC7 agents have also been killed, presumably by people she recruited.”
“How do you know they were killed by others and not her?”
“Commander McCoy is in western New York State. Those other two RC7 agents were shot here in Washington and across the Atlantic in London. She’s a talented young woman, sir. But I don’t think even she could be in that many places at once.”
“I wouldn’t bet against it,” Dorn said with a smug grin. “I’m not sure Commander McCoy is actually human. Not after that stunt she pulled at Camp David.”
“Well, I—”
“I’m just glad I chose her for the job,” the president interrupted.
Baxter muttered to himself quietly. By tomorrow morning Dorn would probably have convinced himself that he was the one who’d originally known Skylar and suggested her for this operation.
“What was that, Stewart? I didn’t hear you.”
“Nothing. I also wanted to—”
This time Baxter was interrupted by a knock on the Oval Office door.
“Come in,” Dorn called.
An aide moved into the room, and then quickly shut the door. He shifted on his feet nervously, glancing back and forth between Baxter and the president.
“What is it, son?” Baxter asked. “You can speak freely.”
Still, the young man stayed silent.
“Speak up,” Dorn said impatiently. “Don’t waste my time.”
“We’ve been contacted again,” he finally explained. “We’ve been contacted by the people who kidnapped your daughter.”
“And?”
“And there will be a demand coming soon. They weren’t specific, but they made it sound like they were going to require you to release certain political prisoners in exchange for the release of your daughter. They didn’t name the specific individuals they want set free, but they continue to claim they won’t go public as long as you cooperate.”
Baxter glanced at the president. Dorn was trying hard to seem calm — but he was trying too hard. He knew the president well enough to know that the floor model’s insides were churning right now like Class 5 rapids. If this information went public, the world would know he had a daughter out of wedlock. And if he freed those political prisoners, everyone would know he could be manipulated because of that daughter.
“Is that all?” Baxter asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Then leave us. And speak nothing of this.”
“I won’t, sir.” A moment later the young man was gone.
“Mr. President, I think we should—”
“How could you let this happen to me, Stewart?” Dorn demanded angrily.
“What are you talking about?” Baxter asked, shocked.
“How could you let me be so vulnerable?”
“Oh.” Jesus. For a second there it had sounded as if Dorn was accusing him of something else. Baxter’s heart had done five somersaults. “I don’t understand.”
“You should have had Secret Service around Shannon.”
“I didn’t even know about her, sir. Not until the other night, anyway. Not until she’d already been taken. I don’t see how you can possibly—”
“I don’t care,” Dorn snapped as he stood up and headed for the door. “You are my chief of staff. You should not have let this happen to me. It is your fault, Stewart, all your fault,” he called out as he slammed the door.
Baxter stared at the door for a long while. Finally, he broke into a thin smile. “Fuck him.”
The attack would begin in three days, starting promptly at one p.m. eastern. Sterling had communicated that to everyone an hour ago, just before they’d gone to their rooms for the night. Thankfully, there had been no dissension in the group whatsoever, no complaints or concerns at all. Everyone was ready to go and fully committed to Operation Anarchy.
The date and time certain was less than sixty-three hours away, and everything was coming together. Everyone except the secretary of state would be in Washington. Even she might be back by then, if a few things broke right.