“Back to the airport. Your plane is waiting.”
“As in a private plane?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going back to Washington?”
“Yes. It seems you are about to become a very important figure in American history.”
Hawthorne wanted to ask what the skipper meant by that but thought better of it. Instead he made his way back down below deck and packed his gear. He was rattled, more rattled than he wanted to let on. He had heard Grayson when he said they would find him, but he never imagined this scenario. How the hell had Grayson known where he was? He had told no one where he was going—not even his secretary. He supposed it was all part of the plan to keep him off balance and remind him of the Commission’s power. It was working.
Peter walked through the double doors of the squad room and into bedlam. Detectives were milling around talking or typing reports, desks
Lynn Ames
were piled high with papers, and phones were ringing constantly. He walked to the back left corner of the room, as he had been instructed to do by the duty sergeant outside, stopping at the desk of Detective Richard Norton.
The man sitting at the desk appeared to be close to retirement age, with a balding pate and a protruding belly. His clothes were rumpled and looked as though he had slept in them; Peter figured he probably had.
“Detective Norton?”
Without looking up, the detective answered, “Who’s asking?” His accent clearly identified him as a Brooklyn native.
“Peter Enright.”
“So?”
“I wanted to ask you about a case you worked a long time ago. Can we talk?”
The detective continued to type, his fingers working in the halting hunt and peck style used by so many who never learned to type properly.
He still hadn’t looked at Peter. “I’m listening.”
“I’m interested in a perp by the name of Kirk Hexall. Went down for manslaughter in ’72.”
Detective Norton’s head snapped up. “Let’s take a walk.” He picked up his jacket from the back of his chair, shrugged into it, and led the way out and down to the street. It wasn’t until they were two blocks away that he said, “What’s your interest in Hexall?”
“Someone whitewashed his record. I want to know why.”
“You a private dick?”
“No. Hexall made an appearance at one of the inaugural balls in January, and I want to know what a guy like that is doing in D.C.
hobnobbing with the president.”
Detective Norton snorted. “Well, I see the punk is certainly coming up in the world.”
“What does that mean?”
“Kirk Hexall was a two-bit thug. Then he went and offed a woman who had the good sense to refuse a date with him. Guy’s got issues with rejection, I guess.”
“He copped a plea, I take it.”
“Yeah, the DA agreed to it because his caseload was too big. So Hexall did ten years in the big house, then disappeared.” Norton looked at Peter out of the corner of his eye. “I hear he went into business for himself as a private contractor.”
“I don’t suppose you’d have a line on his client list?”
“Nah, I lost track of him a few years back. Hadn’t thought about him much until some big shot from the governor’s office called my boss a few months back and ordered us to lose the file.”
The Value of Valor
Peter worked hard to keep his face neutral. “I take it you didn’t like that.”
“Like I said, Hexall is scum. Now he gets to start over? No, I didn’t like that at all.”
“Did you tell your boss you weren’t happy?”
“You bet I did. He just shrugged and said something like, ‘That’s politics.’ He ordered me to put the file on ice.”
“Let me guess, you took a copy home.”
Norton smirked at Peter. “Why would I do a thing like that?” He stopped in front of a dilapidated brownstone and opened the front door with a key. “I’m on the third floor.”
Peter gave most of the file a cursory glance, noticing the detective’s notations in some of the margins. He found what he was looking for on the last page, as he had hoped. There in the small space at the bottom of the page was a single handwritten line. “Record expunged by order of David Breathwaite, New York State Division of Criminal Justice Services.”
“You know the guy?” The detective had watched as a look of pure hatred briefly crossed Peter’s face, then disappeared.
“Yeah, I know him. He’s currently doing twenty-five to life for trying to have a friend of mine killed.”
“Hexall do his dirty work?”
“Not exactly, but I’m guessing he played a role.”
“I’d like to say I’m surprised, but I’d be lying.”
“Looks like Mr. Hexall and I are going to have a little meeting.”
“Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy. Hey, does this mean I can put his file back on the books?”
“You can as far as I’m concerned, but your boss might not like it.”
“He’ll be fine when I tell him where the high and mighty hotshot from the governor’s office is now.”
“Thanks for the help.”
“Yeah. Like I said, Hexall’s scum. If he’s hanging around at presidential balls, it’s because he’s up to something.”
“The only thing he’s going to be up to when I’m done with him is a ten-by-twelve cell at Sing Sing.”
Peter booked himself on the next flight to Washington out of LaGuardia. He wanted to tell Kate in person what he’d discovered.
Breathwaite had ordered the hit on Jay, using Hexall to carry it out.
Hexall must have donated enough money to earn him an invitation to the ball so he could get close to Kate and Jay, and he must have been listening when Jay told President Hyland about her next assignment.
Peter shook his head sadly. Jay had been killed to make Kate pay for putting Breathwaite behind bars. The superintendent at the Southport
Lynn Ames
Correctional Facility where Breathwaite was being held was a friend; Peter planned to make a phone call to him very soon. Breathwaite no doubt was in the Special Housing Unit for his own protection. Perhaps a little time in the general population would be good for him.
President Hyland stood in front of the mirror in his bedroom trying for the fifth time to tie his bowtie; he was due at the National Press Club in thirty minutes. This was to be an important speech, one in which he outlined his goals for the next four years and established a good rapport with the media. He grunted in frustration as the silk slipped through his moist fingers.
“Let me help you with that.” Mimi Hyland slipped behind her husband and guided him to the bed. “Sit down over here so I can reach it.” She was worried about him. Twice in the past eight hours, he’d had to use his emergency inhaler. Normally, his asthma was so well controlled that he had no need to use it at all. She tied the knot with sure, quick movements.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” The president looked up at his beautiful wife. They’d been college sweethearts; he swore it was arguing with her about politics back then that made him such a sharp debater now.
She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. “You’re sweating.”
“A little.”
“Honey, are you feeling all right? Maybe we should call Ben.”
“I don’t need a doctor, Mimi. I’m okay. It’s just a little warm in here.”
Mimi shook her head. “No, it’s not, and I’m worried about you. First it was the difficulty breathing and now this.”
He pulled her to him. “I’m fine, sweetheart. It’s just been one of those days. You worry too much.”
“I love you, and this country and I need you to be healthy.”
“You don’t need to worry—I plan to stick around for a long, long time.”
“You’d better.”
“I’ve got to go. I’m going to be late.”
“I’ll see you later.” She smiled at him coyly. “If you’re a good boy, I might even wait up for you.”
“In that case, I’ll be very good
and
very brief.” He kissed her on the mouth before shrugging into his tuxedo jacket and walking through the doorway.
The diplomatic reception was in full swing when Kate walked through the doorway. Men in tuxedos and women in formal gowns mixed
The Value of Valor
and mingled, drinking champagne while swapping pleasantries. Kate glanced around at the crowd, trying to locate the Russian ambassador; she was also scanning for Keith. The president had shown her an old college picture of the two of them together, so she had some idea what he looked like.
She spotted the ambassador by the fireplace; he was talking to a group of American businessmen, some of whom Kate recognized. Wayne Grayson, the head of Grayson Enterprises, Matthew Wood, CEO of Wood Communications, and Andre L’Andreu, the money behind Oxycon Oil, were laughing at something the ambassador said. Kate was curious about the coziness of the group but was more focused on the task before her. She closed the distance between her and the group, waited for an appropriate opening, and introduced herself to the ambassador.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Ambassador, but I bring you greetings from President Hyland. He was very sorry he could not attend himself, but as I’m sure you can imagine, he cannot be in two places at once.”
“My dear, Ms. Kyle,” he said in heavily accented English, “no offense to your new president, but I think I prefer your company, no?
You are beautiful woman.”
The men, standing in a loose semicircle, all murmured their agreement.
“Thank you, Mr. Ambassador, I am most flattered.”
“Have you met these lovely gentlemen?” The ambassador gestured to his companions.
“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”
The ambassador made the introductions; Kate shook each man’s hand.
“If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” Grayson said. He moved off to address a man standing some twenty feet away, near the baby grand piano.
Kate watched him go, thinking to herself that the man with whom Grayson was engaged in conversation seemed oddly familiar to her.
Before she had time to ponder that notion further, she caught sight in her peripheral vision of a man she thought could be Keith.
“If you’ll excuse me for a moment, gentlemen.”
“Of course, Ms. Kyle,” said the ambassador. “Please be sure to give my best wishes and those of my government to your president.”
“I will, Mr. Ambassador.”
The man standing with Wayne Grayson by the piano whispered urgently. “She must have spotted the contact she was sent to meet.”
“You’re sure this mystery man knows too much?” Grayson asked.
“Positive. The president was very specific in his instructions. Kyle was to meet him, get the information, and report back immediately.”
Lynn Ames
“You’ve done well. Eliminate them both. They’re a threat to our plans and our organization.” Grayson wasn’t entirely comfortable trusting a job this important to one of the Viper’s underlings, but it was necessary. The Viper couldn’t be in two places at once, either, and taking care of the president was the top priority. This man, hired and trained by the Viper, would have to do.
“They will be dead before they can leave the grounds.”
Kate moved as casually as she could over to the bar area where Keith was standing. When she was right next to his ear, she whispered,
“You’ve got a little more gray hair than you did in college.”
Keith laughed nervously. “I’ve earned it. None of us, except for Charlie, of course, looks as good as we did back then. You must be Kate.”
“I am.”
“Charlie speaks very highly of you.”
“I think the world of him.”
“Good, then I can count on you to keep him safe.” Keith looked around the room. “We’ve got company.”
“I take it from the way you’re saying it, you don’t mean that in a good way.” Her eyes followed his over to where the man who had been talking with Grayson was still standing.
“I’m afraid not. He’s Secret Service.”
Kate tried to place him. “How do you know that?”
“It’s the way he stands, the way he scans the room.”
“That’s impressive.”
Keith laughed nervously again. “Or it could also be the fact that I’ve been through his dossier.”
“Oh. You know, you could’ve gotten away with me thinking it was just brilliant deductive reasoning on your part.”
“I can see why Charlie likes you. Okay, listen. I’m going to tell you what I know, then we’re going to have to devise an exit strategy.”
“Okay.”
“This thing is a lot bigger than we thought. The order may have come from someone high up in the administration—”
“It was the vice president.”
“Okay, that makes sense. Kate,” Keith locked eyes with her, “he’s nothing more than a pawn.”
“For Bob Hawthorne?”
“No. Hawthorne is a pawn, too.”
“Then who?”
“It’s a loosely organized syndicate known as the Commission. Its members are some of the wealthiest, most powerful men in the world.
Three of them are here tonight.”
The Value of Valor
“Grayson?”
“Yes, along with Wood and L’Andreu.”
“They’re looking to expand their markets to China?”
“Most likely. But it’s more than that—if they could set up factories and manufacturing plants in China, they could cut their production costs by millions.”
“Cheap labor.”
“Exactly.”
Kate’s mind was spinning. “How does that tie in with the president’s safety?”
“These people are intent on ‘opening up the world to democracy’ so that they can control the world’s economy. It’s not going to stop with China. They want the whole Communist bloc.”
“It sounds like you’ve seen too many old spy movies, Keith. The wealthy are going to take over the world?” The expression on his face was enough to convince her that he was dead serious.
“I wouldn’t be here—wouldn’t have risked everything—if I hadn’t seen the evidence myself,” Keith said vehemently.
“All right. I believe you. They’re pretty greedy, eh?”
“You don’t know the half of it. Charlie would never allow the kind of manipulation these power-hungry megalomaniacs have in mind. Now that he knows pieces of the plan and will put a stop to it, they need to get him out of the way.”
Kate tried to wrap her brains around the words. “Out of the way?”
“Yes, before he figures out who’s behind it and why, they’re going to take him down.”