Buffalo West Wing (31 page)

Not a sixth sense, but a
sick
sense—the “awareness” that Gav had talked about—was causing my stomach to wriggle with fear. On impulse, I slipped the phone out of my pocket and shoved it into the top of my knee-high hose. I had no reason to do so, but I trusted my gut. We were bouncing so hard, Josh didn’t even notice my sleight of hand. I wanted to know who had called me, but I didn’t want to risk checking right now.

“Okay,” Nourie said after turning down another small unpaved road. Just ahead was an old barn that looked as though it had been abandoned twenty years ago. The barn’s wide doors were open, and the inside beckoned like a giant, gaping mouth. Nourie pulled in and jammed the car into park. “We’re here.”

“This isn’t a house,” Josh said. “And it doesn’t look safe.”

“Hurry up.” Nourie opened the door. “Come on, come on.”

We scrambled out of the car and out of the barn. “Where are we?” I asked as the cold afternoon wind hit my face. In the middle of nowhere, the gray day seemed even darker. Trees surrounded us, but—as Josh had noted—there was no actual house.

“Around this bend,” he said.

We followed him about twenty steps past a grouping of trees and shrubs to a silver sedan with dark-tinted back windows. “Get in,” Nourie said.

“Where are we?” I asked again. “Why are we changing cars?”

“Delta,” he reminded me. He reached to open the driver’s side back door. “Hurry.”

Josh got in first. As I followed, Nourie stopped me. “Your bag,” he said, pointing.

I’d kept it tight since we left the school. Instinct, maybe. Security blanket, probably. “What about it?”

“Give it to me.”

Terror raced up my spine. “Why?”

“I need to make sure you’re not carrying anything dangerous.”

This was wrong. Wild, panicked tingles flushed me head to toe. And, if I was to be honest with myself, I’d felt panic rise ever since Nourie had drugged the limo driver. I pulled the bag’s canvas straps closer. “I’m not carrying anything dangerous.”

“Your cell phone,” he said. “It can be traced. They’re probably tracing it right now.”

“I’m not carrying a cell phone,” I lied. “What about the driver? You said we needed him for questioning.”

“Nobody goes anywhere without their cell phone. I know you’ve got it. Give me your bag.” He yanked it away and dumped its contents on the cold ground at my feet. “Where is it?” he asked.

I did my best to look terrified and cooperative. The cooperative part was tough. “I left it in the kitchen,” I lied again, “at the White House. I didn’t want it to go off while I was at Josh’s school.”

He pointed to my tunic and apron. “Empty your pockets. All of them.”

I did. I had nothing but notes in my pockets. Nothing at all in my pants pockets, which he made me turn inside out. “The Armustan people wouldn’t know to trace my cell phone,” I said. “Why do you really want it?”

Nourie gave me a shrewd look. “Don’t play dumb. If I didn’t need someone to keep the kid in line, I’d leave you here,” he said.

Wind whipped around us and any hope I held flew fast away with it.

“Get in,” he said and this time he pulled out his gun.

I got in.

Starting the car, Nourie peeled out from behind the trees and took another, smaller side road, which he navigated as though he’d driven this way before. Josh looked ready to throw up.

I pulled him close and whispered that everything would be okay. He didn’t believe me. I wouldn’t have believed me either. I knew, at least, that as long as Josh was safe, Armustan called the shots. That’s what they wanted. They couldn’t risk him without giving up their trump card. Josh was not expendable. I was.

“No matter what happens, you just remember that your dad will come get you, okay?” I whispered, as we sped along in the gathering dark. “He’s got armies and police and lots of powerful people who will help him.” This car didn’t have a dashboard clock, so I chanced a look at my watch. There had to be an all-out search going on by now. There had to be blockades, an all-points-bulletin, and air surveillance. Where was it? Where
were
we?

As if in answer, I heard the
whup-whup-whup
of a helicopter above. Nourie had been smart to park the limo in the barn. There was no way they’d spot it from the air. “Where are we going?” I asked.

“I told you. We’re going to a safe house,” he said. “But it’s to keep us safe. Not you.”

CHAPTER 26

WE FINALLY DID REACH THE EXPRESSWAY. WE took it heading north and west, farther away from the White House. The helicopter noises became ever more distant. Josh and I couldn’t flag down any passing motorists because the windows were tinted and reflective.

“There are going to be roadblocks,” I said. “You’ll never make it out of here.”

“You forget that I know all the security protocols,” Nourie said over his shoulder. “I know what I’m doing.”

But by now,
I thought,
they know it’s you
. The Secret Service should be able to get one step ahead of this guy.

We exited and followed another small road that connected to yet another. We had taken so many curved and angled streets that I no longer had any idea where I was or how far we were from the White House. We took a drive down a residential lane, followed up by a long stretch where there were no houses whatsoever. Nourie turned right down yet another uneven road. “Is he awake?” Nourie asked.

Josh had been quiet since we’d changed cars.

“He’s awake,” I said.

“Good.” Nourie drove deep into a wooded area, finally pulling up to the side of a one-story frame home in a small clearing. About a hundred feet from the front door was another barn—this one slightly bigger than where we’d left the limo. This time, however, we were surrounded by dark, ominous, and—if the long drive in was any indication—deep woods. Just like last time, Nourie eased the car into the barn and shut off the engine. He turned, perching his elbow atop the seat. Addressing Josh, he said. “You remember what your dad told you? About not negotiating with terrorists?” he asked.

Josh nodded.

Nourie smiled. It was a scary sight. “That’s only because the terrorists haven’t had the proper tools to negotiate with.” He pointed at Josh and winked. “We do now.”

As he ushered us from the car into the house, Nourie warned: “See for yourself, there is no one nearby. No one to hear you yell. The closest house is over two miles away.” He whispered near my ear, “I know you wouldn’t take off without him, and
you
know I would catch up very quickly. Don’t give me any reason for target practice. Trust me. I’m very good.”

I shivered, more from the cold look in his eyes than the surrounding chill. “Got it,” I said quietly.

The door was unlocked and Nourie made us enter first. We found ourselves inside the home’s kitchen. Barren, its linoleum floor was coated with dust. Cobwebs filled the sink and stretched between cabinets. It was as though whoever owned the place had moved out quickly and been unable to sell. Instinctively I reached for a light switch, but all I got was a hollow click. “We cut the power here so nobody would see lights on in an abandoned home,” Nourie said. “We’ve got heat and running water, but don’t expect creature comforts.” He locked and double-dead-bolted the door behind us, pocketing the key.

He herded us into the living room. About twenty-by-twenty, the low-ceilinged space smelled of mold and was devoid of furniture except for a couple of folding chairs and a bent card table in the far corner. A giant stone fireplace took up the long wall and a cardboard box sat in front of the hearth. Heavy drapes were closed across the front windows. I stumbled over the bumpy, carpeted floor.

“You okay?” Josh asked.

I nodded.

Nourie checked the locks on the front door. “These are the only two ways in and out,” he said.

“How long will we be here?” I asked.

“Until it’s time.”

“For what?”

No answer. The place was small, the tension in the air thick. Nourie pointed to the chairs. “Sit,” he ordered.

We took off our coats and sat.

The rear of the house was dark, but I held out hope that there might be a window back there to crawl out of. Getting past Nourie to get to that window would be tough. I knew he was right about there being little chance to get away. Maybe, though, once it got really dark ...

We had to try. Staying here, under Nourie’s control, was the worst thing we could do.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Josh said.

“This way,” Nourie said brusquely. He made us walk ahead of him down the back hall to the two back bedrooms and small bath. Josh held my hand. In each of the bedrooms, the day’s waning light filtered through metal bars that had been installed inside, preventing escape. The bathroom had glass block windows. No hope there. “This is it,” he said. “Hope you can manage in the dark.”

Josh nodded solemnly and closed the door.

“I’ll wait in the living room,” I said.

“Don’t even think about it,” Nourie said. “We know how you are. You will wait right here.”

“Why are you doing this?” I asked. “What’s wrong with you?”

Nourie’s eyes were like steel. Even in the dim hallway I could see them glitter with anger. “There is nothing wrong with me. Everything is finally right.”

“What are you talking about? You’re a Secret Service agent. You pledged to—”

“You know nothing of what I pledged.”

“What are you saying?”

“You’re stupid, you’re female, and you’re weak. That’s all you need to know,” he said. “Now shut up.”

In a minute or so, we heard the water running. “There isn’t any soap,” Josh said from behind the door.

“Life’s rough, kid. Time you learned to be less of a fancy-pants.”

In a moment, the door opened and Josh came out wiping his wet hands on his pant legs. “No towels either,” he said.

I had to give the kid credit. He was holding up extraordinarily well. Better than I would have at that age.

Nourie ushered us into the living room again, forcing us back onto the chairs. He settled himself on the raised fireplace hearth and dragged the cardboard box over. Arranging it on the floor in front of him, he lifted the flaps and pulled out crackers, water, and a radio.

Turning the device on, he glanced at his watch and frowned with such displeasure that I got the impression we were running late. Or that someone else was. “Be quiet,” he said unnecessarily, and started fiddling with the radio controls.

Josh eyed the crackers and water.

“May I?” I asked, reaching for them.

Nourie yanked the box away from me. “Don’t touch.”

The look on our captor’s face was enough to make me wither, but I refused to back down. “He’s a kid, okay? Let him have a couple of crackers and some water. It isn’t going to kill you, you know.”

He shoved the box at Josh, then handed him a bottle of water. “You have some. Not her,” he said, pointing to me. “Got it?”

Josh looked too afraid to touch either one. He stared up at me, terrified. I nodded to him and he accepted the proffered food.

Nourie tuned the radio. “We figured on having Virgil here, not you. But then that fool had to call in sick today.”

Nourie stopped as the announcer’s voice came through. “Breaking news. Shots were fired this afternoon in an attack at Dolorosa Academy, where President Hyden’s son, Joshua, is enrolled. It is believed that the president’s son was the target of the attack, but no students were harmed. Secret Service agents were on hand and prevented Joshua Hyden from being injured. At this point we do not know who is responsible or what their objectives were. Joshua has been taken to a secure location and we expect updates shortly. Stay tuned.”

“Perfect.” For a split second Nourie seemed to relax, but when he consulted his watch again, his agitation returned.

“Waiting for somebody?” I asked.

“Shut up.”

Nourie bent his head to dig through the box again, and I felt my phone vibrate against my calf. I stood up quickly, hoping he hadn’t heard the hum. “I have to go to the bathroom,” I said.

Nourie looked up. “You can wait.”

I stepped backward and shifted from foot to foot, as though I really needed to use the facilities, but what I wanted most was to mask the quiet vibration running up my leg. Exhilaration thrilled me with giddy energy—if my phone was receiving a signal out here, I could use it to call for help. “I only need a minute,” I said.

“Sit down, woman,” Nourie shouted. “What is wrong with you?”

Josh cowered in his seat.

“We’re cooped up here,” I said. I paced in a circle, moving away from him as I did so. I raised my voice to cover the muted sound of the phone. I couldn’t hear it myself, but I could feel it, and I didn’t want to risk anything at this point. Every time it buzzed against my leg, I hoped to heaven it was the last ring. Why had I programmed it for
five
rings before the phone went to voicemail? This thing was taking forever to shut off. “We’re scared,” I said, raising my voice. “What do you think is wrong with me?”