Authors: Kelly Abell
Caroline glanced over at Warren. He was still brooding silently, looking out his own window so she turned back to hers. The only thing she liked about these evenings was getting out of the house. She could do without all the politics and making nice, but she did like the music and dancing. Westfield’s was one of her favorite hotels. She loved the food and the hotel itself was beautiful and very well run.
She also looked forward to seeing some of her friends that she had in Washington. It wasn’t often that she got to see them. Warren wouldn’t let her go shopping or to lunches with her friends. He said it was too dangerous. He was attracting more and more attention as the inauguration drew nearer and he claimed he was afraid for her safety. Caroline knew better. It wasn’t her safety that concerned him; it was the fact that he didn’t want his sparrow flying too far from her cage.
She sighed as she watched the well-known national landmarks zip by in the growing dusk. While she missed the social interaction, she really didn’t like going out with her friends much anyway. It wasn’t worth it. Warren interrogated her the minute she arrived home, as to where she was and who she was with. She really didn’t understand why he bothered to ask because one of his goons was never far out of sight. She knew he was just testing her loyalty.
Suddenly, startling her, he spoke. “I can’t believe in a few months time, Michael will be sworn in as President and I will be Vice President. It seems like only yesterday when I came to Washington as a Congressman.” She didn’t respond right away so he said, “Caroline, are you listening to me?”
She turned from the window and glanced at her handsome husband. She was only half listening, but she certainly didn’t want him to think she had not hung on every word. “Yes, Warren, I agree, it is truly amazing. You have come so far in such a short amount of time. You should be proud.”
“
I am proud, Caroline,” Warren replied arrogantly. “With all that work I did with Homeland Security, Michael wouldn’t have dared choose anyone else other than me for his running mate. Imagine the press thinking John Ross, that drunken old fool, would be his first choice. If it had not been for me he never would have gotten the first Bill passed for Homeland Security. I paved the way for that entire committee.”
“
Your money didn’t hurt either,” Caroline replied a bit cheekily.
Warren turned his steely blue eyes on her. “Are you insinuating I couldn’t have made it if it weren’t for my money?”
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Of course not, dear,” Caroline said soothingly. She caught the look and wanted to undo any damage before he suspected she was being sarcastic. “All I meant was, Michael needed someone of your stature and wealth on his side.”
Warren nodded mollified. “Of course he did. My popularity was what attracted most people to his fund raisers anyway. I led the think tank that ultimately captured that terrorist cell in Oregon last year. Michael knows who ran that show. He will be more than glad to have me as Vice President.
“
Just think Caroline. We will finally have what we are working so hard for, the White House. I can almost picture it. Me as President,” he reached over and ran a finger down the side of her face. “You as First Lady. You will be the most beautiful one this country has ever known. I knew that when I first saw you ten years ago. That was why I had to have you. You were the perfect wife for a President, Caroline. Come here.”
He moved his hand from her face to the back of her neck and began to pull her toward him. Caroline pulled back and gently placed her hand on his chest. “Warren, don’t. You’ll mess up my make up. Then what will people say when I arrive looking all mussed?”
“
I don’t care,” he said increasing the pressure on her neck. He pulled her head roughly over to his. “If I want to kiss my wife, I’ll kiss her.” He brought his mouth down hard on hers, bruising her lips. She knew better than to resist. She returned the kiss as best she could with his mouth crushing hers. His tongue probed insistently. She met it with a few timid strokes wishing the kiss would end as quickly as it began.
It did. He released her abruptly and she sprang back against the seat. She sucked in air and blew it out quickly. “Well,” she said trying to sound cheerful as tears stung the back of her eyes. “I must look a sight. Let’s see what I can do to repair my face before we arrive.”
She pulled down the retractable mirror and surveyed the damage. She could feel Warren’s cold eyes on her has she replaced a few loose strands of hair and began to reapply her lipstick. She knew he was smiling at her in that smug way he had, as if he’d won the prize at the carnival.
“
Better hurry up,” he said. “We’re here.”
They made a striking couple as they entered the ballroom. Caroline was indeed one of the most beautiful women there and no one would dispute the fact that Warren Walters was as handsome as they came. Warren was proud of how they looked together. He didn’t even notice that his wife’s mouth was slightly swollen from his brutal kiss and that the fire that had once shown in her emerald eyes was gone. Caroline had a smile on her face, but it wasn’t happiness that held it there.
The ballroom was crowded with people. They were milling around shaking hands and slapping backs. The room was huge. All the wall separators were removed and there were at least one hundred tables set out. Each table was set for eight with beautiful bone china and silver flatware. The centerpieces were huge bowls of white gardenia blossoms mixed with pale pink roses. Rainbows of light sparkled around the room from the massive crystal chandeliers overhead. The room was beautiful. Caroline was pleased for Michael. He would make a fine President.
Michael Hardy was the golden boy of the Republican Party. He was the favorite to win the election, and he had, by a landslide. He was young, handsome, vibrant, and just what people felt this country needed to set things right.
Caroline liked Michael and had become good friends with his wife, Sarah. She spotted Sarah now across the ballroom at one of the front tables. “Warren, I’m going to speak to Sarah. I will catch up to you at the table, okay?”
Warren, smiling looked across the room at Michael and Sarah and waved. “That’s fine, but make sure you don’t ignore anyone who speaks to you. We might need their support when I run for President.”
Caroline turned her back on her husband and hurried through the throng of people to her friends. “Sarah, how are you? Michael, Congratulations, Mr. President.” She glanced around and gestured with her arm. “Have you ever seen so many people?”
Sarah laughed and leaned into Caroline. “Michael doesn’t see people, Caroline, he sees dollar signs with legs.”
Michael, who was a good foot taller than his wife, smiled down at her. “Now, Sarah, you know that’s not entirely true. I see beyond what is in their pocket books. I see their votes as well.” He took Caroline’s hand and kissed it warmly. “How are you Mrs. Walters? Or should I say Madam Vice President. You certainly look ravishing.”
Caroline dipped into a small curtsy. “Why thank you, kind sir. I am quite well, but please reserve the title for the man who earned it.” She was referring of course to Warren.
Michael looked down at her and winked. “We know who really runs the show, don’t we?” he said conspiratorially.
She enjoyed this playful banter with this charming man and his wonderful wife, but she would in no way lead anyone to believe that Warren was not in full control of his household. “Why thank you for your confidence, but you know as well as I do, there is no running the show by anyone but Warren.”
Sarah leaned over and whispered to Caroline. “Frankly, I’ll be glad when this whole circus is over and I can get out of these five hundred dollar torture devices called shoes.”
Caroline laughed, a nice tinkling sound. “Sarah, you are incorrigible. You should be more gracious. These people just elected your husband President and all you can do is complain about your shoes. Which are fabulous, by the way.”
“
I know, I know,” Sarah replied. “It just has something to do with some shrinks hierarchy of needs that I remember learning back in college. When the feet hurt, the higher levels of thinking just fly right out the window.”
The women greeted a few more people and then to Sarah’s relief they were invited to sit at their tables. Pleasant conversation continued at the table all through dinner. The meal, as Caroline had expected, was delicious. They were served their choice of a wonderful stuffed salmon fillet or Beef Wellington. She had chosen the salmon and was not disappointed. She participated in the conversation only when asked and most of the time she deferred to Warren when the subject of politics came up.
Dessert was being served and Michael left the table to prepare for his speech that he was about to give. Sarah leaned over to Caroline and whispered quietly. “Look over at that table on the far right, next to the door. Do you see those empty seats?”
Caroline followed the direction in which Sarah was looking and indeed spotted the chairs her friend was referring to. “Yes, I see them, why?”
“
They were supposed to be for Geneva and Kent Larson. He was one of the Deputy Directors of the CIA and…”
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Was?” Caroline interrupted her.
“
Well, that’s just it. He’s dead.”
Caroline gave a small gasp of surprise. “Dead? But how? I just saw Geneva the other day at Tyson’s. She never said a word about him feeling ill.”
“
He wasn’t ill. Michael told me some rogue agent killed him. Kent had gone down to Colombia to get this man out of a bad situation and he just up and shot him. The CIA is looking everywhere for him, but I doubt they will find him. Those guys are trained to disappear like smoke.”
“
Wow, a rogue agent?”
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That’s what Michael said. He was pretty upset by it. Geneva and Kent have always been strong supporters of the party. He and Kent would play golf together almost every weekend. I didn’t have that much in common with Geneva, but she is a wonderful woman. She certainly doesn’t deserve to go through something like this.”
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This is terrible,” Caroline said. “I just find that so hard to believe.”
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I know it is hard to believe. I know it would have to be a stressful job. Maybe this agent just snapped.”
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You said he was in Colombia. Isn’t that strange?”
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Isn’t what strange?” Sarah’s eyes searched Caroline’s. “What is puzzling you so?”
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Well, I just find it strange, that’s all. Why would they send a Deputy Director on a mission like that? You would think they would have sent another agent or a local insurgent or something. It just seems odd, now that I think about it, that Kent felt obligated to go and bring back one of his agents who was in trouble. From what Warren has told me, Kent is the best CIA operative in the business. He served in the Navy with him. Warren says he personally selects his agents and trains them himself. These guys are professionals and prepared for any kind of trouble. There must be something else to it.”
Sarah nodded in agreement. “I see what you mean, Caroline. Well, all I know is I wouldn’t want to be this Jack Weaver that everyone in Washington is talking about. He is up to his neck in trouble now. No matter what the reason, you just don’t shoot one of the Deputy Directors in the CIA and get away without severe consequences. That is, if they can ever catch him.”
Caroline glanced at the empty chairs and sighed. “I will have to call her tomorrow. She must be devastated.”
Caroline turned her attention to the podium where Michael was about to speak, but her thoughts remained on Geneva Larson. She almost envied her. She was alone now. It probably wasn’t what Geneva wanted by any means, but Caroline couldn’t help but wish she could trade places with her.
Chapter 5
The last few days were a complete blur to Jack. He had managed to make his way from Colombia to his hidey-hole in D.C, and he certainly did not take that for granted. He rolled over on the small mattress that lay on the floor of the small 4-room apartment. It was not anywhere near what he’d been accustomed to over the past year, but it was safe, relatively. It definitely was not in the best section of D.C. but it was a damn site better than being trapped in Carlos Cortez’s Colombian mansion when they figured out he was the one who killed Cortez. Jack heaved a great sigh and moved to sit up.
“
AGH. SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!” He bellowed, as the bolt of pain shot through his injured leg. He fell back onto the mattress with a heavy thud. What had been a dull ache that he was hardly aware of, now became a pulsing, searing, breath quickening kind of pain. “The next time you come up with a bright idea like this,” Jack said to himself, “Try and do something less debilitating, Jack…Ass.”