Presently, three more Secret Service agents arrived, forming a semicircle around her. The man who’d asked for her license addressed a short, barrel-chested agent whom she assumed to be his superior. “Unwarranted entry,” he said. “The lady doesn’t have an invitation. Not on the guest list, either.”
The agent in charge took her by the arm. “Do you have a driver’s license? Or any form of government-issued identification?”
Jenny shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I seem to have left it at home, too.”
“With your invitation?”
“Yes.”
Nods all around. She sensed a definite increase in the tension level. This is where they unbutton their jackets and tuck their coats behind their revolvers, she thought.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like you to come with me,” said the barrel-chested agent. Another motion toward the lapel. “Mary, we have a Code Alpha. Meet me in the garage.”
Ten seconds passed. A trim, olive-skinned woman dressed in the same navy business attire as the male agents emerged from the house and bustled across the garage.
“This is Mary Ansenelli,” said the agent in charge. “She’s going to escort you inside. We’re going to ask if it’s all right if we frisk you. You have a right to say no, in which case you will be arrested and taken to the local police station.”
“Arrested? I’m a guest of Mr. Jacklin and Jefferson. I’m sorry if they made a mistake and my name isn’t on the list. I work for Harrington Weiss. I couldn’t care less if you frisk me. You can do it here, for all I care. I just want to go to the party, preferably before dessert is served.”
“I understand you’re upset, ma’am. If you’ll just cooperate, I’m sure we can work things out.”
“Cooperate? What else do I have to do? I parked where I was supposed to. I came at the right time. I didn’t know strip poker was on the agenda.”
The female agent grasped her arm firmly. “If you’d come with me, please.”
Jenny shook it off. “No, I won’t!”
“Gary, shoot me some cuffs.”
“You will not put handcuffs on me. I am a guest at this event. Not some two-bit party crasher!”
The agent in charge took hold of her arms and tugged them behind her back. “Please keep still. We just need a little cooperation.”
“Let me go!” shouted Jenny, struggling. “Get Mr. Jacklin. I’m his guest!”
Handcuffs clamped her wrists. Someone spun her around, while the female agent led her toward the front of the garage. An agitated voice called for a car. Another was radioing ahead, advising someone to expect an incoming prisoner. A hand on her back pushed her forward. Jenny marched past the parking valets and the table laden with coffee and sandwiches. She glanced over her shoulder. The door to the kitchen was getting farther and farther away. “Be careful,” she said angrily. “I’m pregnant.”
A sedan drew up a few feet away. A short curly-haired man with vicious pockmarks stepped out and took Jenny’s arm. “Watch your head,” he said, opening the rear door and placing his hand on her head and forcing her into the car.
“Is there a problem, Agent Reilly?”
Jenny turned and stared into James Jacklin’s stern face.
“This woman was trying to gain entry to your party, sir,” said the agent in charge. “She doesn’t have an invitation and her name’s not on the guest list.”
Jenny looked between the two men. Catching Jacklin’s eye, she smiled with heartfelt relief. “Mr. Jacklin, it’s me… Jenny Pendleton. You probably don’t remember me, but I work at Harrington Weiss in New York. I’m in the structured finance group under Jake Flannagan.”
“Of course, I know Jake. I’m sorry he couldn’t make it.” Jacklin looked from one agent to another. “Gentlemen, I think it’s all right if you remove the handcuffs from this poor woman.”
Reilly, the agent in charge, unlocked the cuffs.
Jenny put a hand to her chest, sighing. “Thank God. Someone who doesn’t take me for a criminal. Jake’ll kill me for being late, but…”
Jacklin waved away the Secret Service agents. “I think we can take it from here. Miss Pendleton’s with one of Jefferson’s most important clients. I’ll be happy to vouch for her.” He extended a hand and Jenny took it. “Right this way, m’dear. I’ll be happy to show you around. First, though, let me get you a drink. I insist. Cold outside, isn’t it?”
Jenny nodded, the smile frozen in place. Strangely, she couldn’t say a word.
60
The jet was an older Gulfstream III. A ten-seater with cracked leather seats, faux burled-wood paneling, and not quite the ceiling height of newer models. Bolden sat in the center of the cabin, his hands and ankles bound by plastic restraints that cut deep into his skin. Wolf sat at the tail of the cabin, screwing and unscrewing the silencer onto the muzzle of his pistol. “Low-velocity shells,” he’d informed Bolden when they’d boarded. “Just enough powder to put a hole in you, but not enough to carve one in the fuselage.”
It was not Bolden’s first trip on a private jet. Nor his second, nor even his tenth. The business of buying and selling billion-dollar corporations was conducted at a fever pitch. Time was money. No one could afford to waste hours stuck in ticket queues, clearing security, or being at the whim of a late-arriving aircraft. In the course of six years as an advisor to many of the nation’s largest companies, he’d logged no less than fifty flights aboard corporate aircraft.
In comparison to the others, this flight ranked near the bottom. “Spartan” would be a good word to describe it. He did not enjoy the usual amenities. There was no diet Coke, ginseng tea, or Red Bull to revive his flagging spirits; no chilled Dom to celebrate a successful closing; no homemade biscuits and jam; no Concord grapes and brie; no tortilla chips and guacamole to nosh on. No warm towels. And certainly no onboard aesthetician to inquire whether he’d prefer a manicure or a ten-minute “power” massage.
Bolden reflected that it was odd how much a man’s life could change in twenty-four hours. Last night, he was the cock of the walk. Man of the Year. A high-ranking executive with a boundless future. It had changed in another, more important, way. He was the father of a child growing in the womb of the woman he loved. He stared out the window, seeing Jenny’s face in the darkness.
The plane banked to the left, dropping out of the clouds above Georgetown University. They came in low over the Potomac, the Kennedy Center nipping at their wing. The plane shuddered as the landing gear came down. They flew at monument level, looking through the Lincoln Memorial down the Reflecting Pool, the Washington Monument half obscured by mist and snow.
It would be, he thought, his final landing.
“Are you sure we’ve met?” asked Jacklin. “I don’t know that I could have forgotten someone so lovely.”
Jennifer Pendleton nodded eagerly. “Actually, once… but it was a while ago. I can’t thank you enough for coming to my rescue. I was actually starting to feel a little afraid.”
“Not to worry, m’dear. It would have worked itself out.”
The two were standing in the main salon, surrounded by a swirl of men and women in tuxedos and evening finery. Jenny laid a hand on Jacklin’s arm and Jacklin couldn’t help but step closer to her. She was damned cute. “You say you’re a Pendleton?”
“As a matter of fact, we share a great-great-grandfather. Edmund Greene Pendleton. Our side of the family moved to Ohio. We were farmers, not politicians.”
“Where would this country be without farmers? George Washington raised some tobacco in his day, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Tell me, Mr. Jacklin…”
“J. J., dammit, you’re making me feel old.”
“Tell me, J. J.,” she went on, pointing to the oil portraits that adorned the wall. “Are any of these Pendletons?”