“Yeah, well.” Ryden huffed. “It’s the new me. I never appreciated myself or my life until I almost lost them both.”
“We need to make it to the highway and find a phone.”
“Your boss?”
They both looked in the direction of the house when they heard loud voices.
“No one here, but the fire is fresh,” a man shouted.
Shield grabbed Ryden’s hand again and they took off, heading south through the park. They’d run for quite a while before Ryden pulled her to a stop.
“I can’t…” She paused, taking big gulps of air. “My arm is bleeding badly and I can hardly breathe.”
“We have to keep going,” Shield said. “They’re behind us. It won’t be much longer before we’re at the highway.”
“Why don’t you—”
She could hear the fear in Ryden’s voice. “The new you, remember?”
Ryden hesitated a few seconds. “You might have to carry me,” she said, and took off ahead of Shield.
They reached the highway at the southern edge of the park just as the first sliver of dawn appeared on the horizon. Shield cautiously checked both directions before she pulled Ryden out of the brush. A familiar neon logo beckoned. “There’s a gas station half a mile down the road.”
They stayed close to the trees, and twenty minutes later, Shield entered the gas station first with her head low to check for cams. When she saw none, she went back out to get Ryden. The lone attendant, a teenaged boy, barely glanced their way. She told Ryden to wait in the back of the store, out of sight, while she went straight to the pay phone.
“I need Pierce,” she told the facilitator on duty.
“He’s on his way to Washington, but Grant will take it.” He put her through.
“Why’s Pierce going to Washington?” she asked Joanne as soon as she came on the line.
“Rothschild and TQ are the same person,” Grant replied. “She has an address there, where he thinks TQ is holding Jaclyn. He’s going there to find her.”
“Alone?” Shield asked, surprised. “She’ll kill him on the spot.”
“Lynx and Arthur are with him.”
“Still not enough. She has more soldiers than the U.S. military.”
“He won’t listen.” Grant practically screamed her frustration. “Any news from your side?”
“We needed to abort the house. They found it.”
“We have a working safe house in Washington, at 1650 Corcoran Street, but that means going back.”
“We’ll have to risk it. I need a place to leave Wagner.”
“And yourself,” Grant said. “Call me when you get there.”
“Where’s Pierce landing?”
“Andrews.”
“I’ll meet him there.”
“Shield, you—”
“Pierce is going to need all the help he can get, and…” Shield thought back to the woman who’d saved her life. “I owe Jack a favor. I’ll make sure Wagner is safe, but I’m going to TQ’s with him.” She hung up and walked over to the young pimple-faced clerk who was manically texting on his cell. “I need you to call us a cab.”
“Lady, you’re in the middle of nowhere.”
“Now,” she said ominously.
“Okay, chillax.” He put the cell down and dialed for a cab on the landline. He mumbled the address and hung up. “Dude said it could take up to thirty.”
“We’ll wait outside.”
Twenty minutes later, the cab arrived, and Shield went back into the gas station. The clerk sat smiling as he texted and never even looked up. She checked the slim pickings behind him hanging off the wall. “I want condoms.”
The boy finally took his eyes off the phone and looked from her, to Ryden, waiting outside. “Rrrright,” he slurred. “You sure?”
“The black ones at the top,” Shield answered stoically.
He placed his cell under the counter and slowly turned around. “They’re XXL.”
“Sounds about right.”
He turned to look at her one more time before he returned to the wall. While he was on his tiptoes reaching for the small box, Shield silently leaned over the counter and snatched his cell. She got it into her jacket pocket just as the boy turned to face her. Though she could have just asked for it politely with her gun, the risk of him pressing the predictably hidden-under-the-counter silent alarm was too big, and the last thing she needed was a police chase for armed robbery.
“Anything else?”
“Got lube?”
“What?”
Shield got out her wallet and placed a hundred-dollar bill in front of him. “Keep the change.” She pocketed the condoms and walked quickly to the cab, where Ryden was waiting.
“I can’t believe you took his phone,” Ryden said as she watched Shield dial Monty’s number.
“I tipped him.”
*
Washington, D.C.
TQ paced in her D.C. office. She had wanted to stay and watch Jack being tortured to calm her nerves and restore her balanced state, but the dire situation called for her immediate attention. She didn’t even have her maids to release her anger upon.
She had rarely been so distressed or so close to having her identity unveiled, and on that one past occasion she had paid good money to make sure that person never talked. She had left him feeling safely assured that he was free to go on with his now-rich life, and then, once he’d let down his guard, she’d eliminated him.
The op and Wagner, however, posed a whole different problem. Even if they accepted her money in return for silence, she’d have to find them before they caused irreparable damage. She wasn’t worried about the authorities or even the president, but the meddling and ruthless media would tear her apart.
Her people had just informed her that the cabin they suspected the two runaways had found refuge in had recently been evacuated. The targets were on the run. But at least they were still within the greater Washington environs.
She jumped with anticipation when the phone rang. The caller ID placed the call from her Texas home. “What?”
“Madam, a Mr. Montgomery Pierce called, asking for Theodora Rothschild. He said you have something that belongs to him, and he’s willing to negotiate your identity in return for it.”
She gripped the cell phone till her knuckles hurt. Who was this Pierce, and had Kennedy already talked to someone? “What else?”
“Nothing, madam. He left a number to reach him at your earliest convenience.”
“I don’t have time for this shit,” she muttered.
“Would you like me to tell him you’re unavailable?”
“Did I ask you to?”
“No, madam. It was a suggestion.”
“Do you know me to be in the habit of seeking proposals from anyone, let alone a secretary?”
“No, madam.”
“Do it again and I’ll stab you in the mouth. Give me his number.” TQ jotted down the digits and hung up.
She treated herself to a shot of red wine before she made the call.
“Pierce.” The man was older, his tone one of confident authority.
“Mr. Pierce, this is Theodora Rothschild. How can I help you?”
“Wise of you to call me back, TQ. I am on my way to D.C. as we speak.”
She hadn’t expected this stranger who was looking for Rothschild to call her by her other business name.
She could hear the distinctive noise of a jet in the background. “Business or pleasure?”
“It will be my pleasure to destroy you and your business, should we fail to reach an arrangement.”
“No need for dramatic statements, Mr. Pierce. Many have offered me deals and I have yet to disappoint. I’m sure we can reach a satisfactory agreement.” Another money-hungry idiot threatening to expose her. “I can get you whatever money can buy, and I value discretion. Whatever transpires between us will stay between us.”