“Hey, hey,” Terri crooned, kneeling on the floor next to Alexa and taking her in her arms. “What are you saying?”
The face that looked up at her was filled with indescribable agony. “I-I know who I am, and it’s too late.”
“Come here, child.” Terri stood and pulled Alexa up with her. She helped her to the sofa, where she sat down beside her and took her hands.
“I don’t understand what you’re telling me.”
She pointed weakly to the television screen. “I know, and it’s too late.” The words were like a mantra to her—something tethering her to this Earth as she felt her soul shrivel and die.
Terri followed Alexa’s finger and watched in shock as an image of Alexa played across the screen. She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand, her heart twisting in her chest. “Oh, no.” Her voice sounded strangled. How could she have made such an unforgivable mistake? She had assumed that the other woman in the car had been Jamison Parker. It hadn’t occurred to her that it could be Alexa.
The anchorman said, “Kyle has been in mourning since the untimely death of her lesbian lover Jamison Parker in a car accident January 21st in Arizona. Parker apparently lost control of her car and died when it plunged over a cliff near Chinle. Parker was on assignment for
Time
magazine when the accident occurred. Deputy Press Secretary Michael Vendetti, who worked with Ms. Kyle, had this to say...”
“…I don’t think she ever really got over that. The combination of Ms.
Parker’s loss and the death of the president must have been too much for her. I know I will personally miss her, as I’m sure many of you in the media will, as well.”
The anchorman continued, “President Wheeler has announced that Ms. Kyle, who has no living family, will have a state funeral later in the week.”
Jay slid off the couch to the floor, where she curled up in a ball, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. “I know, and it’s too late.” Her
Lynn Ames
body rocked back in forth in rhythm to the words. Nothing, she was sure, would ever matter again.
Terri didn’t know what to do or say—how to make it right, so she merely did what her motherly instincts required—she offered comfort and solace, wrapping herself around the distraught woman.
Kate landed in Phoenix at 5:23 a.m. She still hadn’t decided on a plan of action. She had no idea who were her friends and who were her enemies. When she arrived in the terminal, she hustled into the ladies room, where she locked herself in a stall. She turned on the cell phone and dialed a number from memory.
When the receiver was picked up on the other end, she said, “Peter?
Oh, thank God.”
“This isn’t Peter.”
It took Kate a moment to process before she realized to whom the nasally sounding voice on the other end of the line belonged. “Barbara?”
“K-Kate?”
“Yes. Listen, I’m in a lot of trouble. I need help. You sound as though you’ve been crying. Have you?”
In a stunned voice, Barbara said, “Kate, CNN is reporting that you’re dead—that you committed suicide last night after learning of the president’s death.”
Kate heard a thundering in her ears. She sat down heavily.
They
wiped me off the map.
After a moment, she said, “I’m so sorry, Barbara.
No, I’m quite alive for the moment, though I won’t be for long unless I can disappear.”
“Disappear? What’s going on?” Barbara knew she shouldn’t ask—
knew that she should warn Kate in case anyone had tapped Peter’s line, but she couldn’t help herself.
“I can’t explain it right now. Suffice it to say I don’t know who to trust anymore and I need to find someplace safe to hide.”
“Where are you?”
Kate considered for a moment. She wanted to tell her good friend the whole story. Just hearing a friendly voice made her want to weep. But she also didn’t want to place Barbara in any jeopardy. “I think the less you know, the better. Where’s Peter?”
“Out trying to find you.”
“Any idea where he’s looking?”
“No. He asked me to come down and look after Fred for a while.”
Despite the dire nature of the situation, Kate smiled. She always knew she could count on her friends, especially Peter, when it came to Fred.
“I’m glad you’re there.”
“Do you have any money?” Barbara asked.
The Value of Valor
“Only about one hundred thirty cash and my credit cards. I don’t want to use the cards because they’re traceable.”
“Who is chasing you? And why are they lying about your death?”
“They have to explain my absence somehow, friend.” She could almost hear Barbara processing the information on the other end.
“How is Peter going to find you?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“He said he would call me with an update.”
“Okay.” Kate thought for a minute. She had joked with Peter before about wanting to move to Arizona, but he had said it was too hot. She had responded that it was hot, but it was a “dry” heat. He had replied that it was—but so was sticking your head in an oven. She knew he would remember. “When he does, tell him you’re thinking about taking a vacation someplace hot and dry.”
“Hot and dry?”
“Right.”
“Got it. Kate?”
“Hmm?”
“When will I hear from you again?”
“I wish I knew.”
“Be careful out there, honey.”
“I’m trying. Give…give Fred a scratch for me, okay?”
“You bet. A big hug.”
Kate hung up, wishing with all her heart that she could just go home.
Instead she rested her forehead against the cool surface of the stall door, trying to figure out what to do next.
Barbara had just hung up the phone when it rang again. “Hello?”
“It’s Peter.”
“Hey.”
“I saw the news.” His voice was grim.
“Don’t believe everything you see.”
“Of course not.”
“You had a call.” Barbara thought about telling Peter that she had thrown caution to the wind in her non-cryptic conversation with Kate, but she wasn’t in the mood for the tongue-lashing that would no doubt elicit.
“When?”
“Just now. It was very brief.”
“Schedule must be a bit tight, eh?”
“Sounded that way. Speaking of schedules, have I told you that I was thinking about taking a vacation somewhere hot and dry?”
After several seconds of silence on the line, Peter said, “Really?”
“Yep.”
Lynn Ames
“That’s an interesting choice.”
“You know, when you’re really low on cash, what could be nicer?”
“You have a point.”
In an effort to ensure that Peter understood what she was telling him, Barbara added, “I’m thinking it will be a very short break, though.”
After a second, Peter asked, “When’s Kate’s funeral?”
“I think they’ve scheduled it for the day after tomorrow. Will you be here?”
“Miss my best friend’s funeral? Never. I’ll be there.”
“Anything I can do for you in your mourning?”
“Take care of the boy.”
“Done. Any messages for anyone?”
“Just let folks know that I’ll be out of town until the funeral.”
“Okay.”
His eyelids fluttered open, and he blinked several times trying to clear his vision. The room was dark and eerily quiet. Where was he? What had happened? The last thing he remembered was being in the middle of his remarks at the National Press Club, then the whole world had gone black.
President Hyland tried to sit up. He couldn’t move. He tried to turn his head; nothing happened. He tried to speak but couldn’t. It was only then that he realized he was hooked up to a series of machines that were beeping and whirring.
“How is the patient doing?”
“Stable and incapacitated, as you requested.”
The president tried to focus on the conversation taking place nearby.
“Good. Everything is going according to plan. You’ll keep him alive and well-nourished for now. We don’t know if there are things he has set in motion that will counteract our plans. We can’t kill him until we are sure. Is he conscious?”
“Not yet.”
The president closed his eyes, not wanting to give himself away. The voice asking the questions sounded vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn’t place it.
“How much longer before he wakes?”
“It could be any time now.”
“All right. Let’s go through this again. He will be able to comprehend speech, to hear, to see, to think, but unable to move. Correct?”
“Exactly.”
“And if we need information from him?”
“We can reverse the effects of the pancuronium at any time.”
“Good.”
The Value of Valor
The voices became more distant. Pancuronium? The president was no doctor, but he knew that pancuronium was a poison sometimes used in lethal injections. Why did someone want him out of the way? He fought sleep, trying to stay focused.
The China thing. Keith. Kate. Oh, God.
The command center was a condo in Georgetown. There were phones, maps, half-empty coffee cups, plates of food, and computers everywhere. A large diagram of the city was tacked to a wall, a map of all the transportation hubs covered a second wall, and an easel with a large pad of paper and magic markers was set up off to the side. Voices were raised in conversation, printers cranked out paper, and the Viper stood in the center, barking out orders.
“All right. I want to know where we stand.”
The Secret Service agent who had lost Kate at the reception rose from his chair. He was too ashamed to look the Viper in the eye, so he instead focused on the reports in his hands. “We know she made at least eight plane reservations leaving out of the three major airports and a train reservation. She also reserved a spot on the shuttle going to BWI.”
The Viper waved his hand dismissively. “Do we really think a woman who is resourceful enough to give us the slip and smart enough to make multiple reservations is stupid enough to leave us a simple trail to follow?”
“No, sir,” the agent answered. “So we’ve discounted BWI.”
“Discount nothing. I’m simply telling you she didn’t take the shuttle to get there.”
“Right.”
“Which leaves us where?”
“We found the cab she used to get away. The driver says he took her to the Washington Hilton to catch the shuttle. After that, her trail is cold.”
“Cold? Cold? I don’t want to hear cold!”
The agents in the room shrank back slightly, unnerved by the Viper’s intensity.
“Here’s what we know,” he started pacing. “She most likely left D.C., and she didn’t do it on foot. So either she took another cab or found another means of transportation. Her car is gone, so that’s one possibility, although we’ve had a silent APB out on it ever since and haven’t found it.”
“Sir?” One of the agents who’d been listening with half an ear while carrying on a phone conversation broke in. “I think we’ve got something.”
“What is it?”
Lynn Ames
“A security camera at National Airport shows her checking in at the USAir ticket counter last night.”
“Good work. How many reservations did Kyle have out of National and how many were for USAir?”
“One—it was headed to Phoenix—a red-eye that arrived this morning at 5:23.”
“Bingo. Let’s go get her.” The Viper’s smile was altogether sinister.
The Value of Valor
CHAPTER TWELVE
eter sat in seat 12D on the 10:05 a.m. flight bound for Phoenix.
P He selected the aisle seat because he wanted to be able to watch the other passengers embark. He paid the gate attendant to allow him to board the aircraft first, so he could see every individual’s face.
By his calculation, Kate had a seven-hour head start on him based on the time Barbara had indicated she’d called and the fact that it was a four-hour flight. He hoped she would wait for him. He touched the pouch hidden underneath his shirt. He’d had just enough time before the flight to stop at Gustav’s for a few supplies—a false passport, driver’s license, and bogus credit cards for Kate. He’d also arranged for Gustav to put a trace on Kate’s cards so that if anyone tried to access information about her, he’d know. Peter smiled to himself; he’d always believed saving the Russian’s backside would come in handy.
He examined every person who boarded while pretending to read the
New York Times
. Halfway through the boarding process, he spotted two men and a woman who stuck out like a sore thumb. He’d been hoping they’d have more lead time to formulate a plan, but it was plain that any advantage Kate had gained in making her getaway had been nearly wiped out.
Mentally, he recalculated his strategy. He knew Kate, and they didn’t—that would work to his benefit. He tried to put himself inside her head. What would she do? Barbara said in so many words she didn’t have much cash and she didn’t plan to stay in Phoenix long. Kate was familiar with Sedona, would she go there? He didn’t think so—there weren’t enough places to hide. Because her face was so recognizable, would she try to disguise herself? Or go someplace where she could blend in?
He tried to remember whether she knew anybody in the area, but he didn’t think she did. He imagined that Kate had considered dyeing her hair or otherwise altering her appearance and decided against it. It wasn’t that she was vain—she wasn’t. It was more that she understood that these were professionals; short of plastic surgery, the advantage to taking the time to alter her appearance would be minimal. Better to focus on staying out of sight altogether.
Lynn Ames
Kate would never endanger anyone else, so Peter was sure she wouldn’t ask anyone to give her shelter. No, she would most likely find someplace away from civilization to hide. He pulled out one of the maps of the area and began to study. Barbara most likely told Kate he was out looking for her; so she would probably try to wait for him as long as she thought she could. She would position herself someplace where she could see any danger coming—the top of a mountain. He smiled, remembering Kate’s description of climbing the mountain that looked like a camel. He put his finger on the map—there it was—Camelback Mountain. She would know that he would remember the story. He was glad he was in good shape.