she whispered. “I thought maybe I was bad.” She sobbed.
“Oh, Jay.” Kate closed her eyes at the sound of Jay’s pain. “I can’t imagine what you went through.”
I’m a selfish idiot.
Something occurred to Jay; she turned suddenly to face Kate, her eyes wide. “It was Breathwaite.”
“What?” Kate asked, trying to keep up.
“It was Breathwaite who ordered me killed—to get back at you for what happened.”
Kate’s blood ran cold. “How do you know that?” It was her turn to feel sick.
“Peter traced him through the ex-con he hired to do the job. The guy was at the ball; he must’ve overheard us talking to the president. Peter was flying back to Washington to tell you when all hell broke loose.”
Jay’s voice got quiet. “He never got the chance.”
Kate mentally kicked herself in the head. “I’ve made such a mess of things.” Kate cradled her head in her hands, realization dawning.
“What are you talking about?”
Lynn Ames
“Here I’ve been shutting you out—essentially punishing you for being absent—something over which you had no control. I didn’t even know I was doing it.”
“You were hurting, Kate. I can understand that.”
“It wasn’t your fault. None of it was your fault,” Kate said thickly.
“I’m such an ass.”
“Don’t say that,” Jay said hotly.
“It’s true.” Kate shrugged.
“No, it’s not. You were grieving.”
“I was blind. I-I didn’t see you. All I saw was my own pain.” She looked at Jay, eyes filled with hurt and remorse.
“That’s understandable, Kate. I can’t imagine what it felt like to be you.” She found Kate’s hand and held it. “I only got a small taste of that, when I…when my memory came back and I thought you were gone. It was unbearable,” she finished quietly.
Kate shifted sideways and reached gentle fingers out to turn Jay’s face to her. “We have each other now,” she said, her voice resolute. “I’m not going to let anybody take that away from us again—not Breathwaite, not the Commission—no one.”
Jay smiled, her heart lifting. “That’s my Kate.”
Kate nodded through a fresh wave of tears. “Sorry it took me so long to come to the party.”
“Better late than never,” Jay said, smiling softly.
Kate poked her. “Ready to come to bed?”
Jay hesitated, the fear still too close. “How about a midnight stroll on the beach first? I don’t think I’m ready to face another nightmare just yet.”
Kate rose to her feet, pulling Jay up with her. “I’ll be right beside you, holding you, I promise.” Kate’s world righted itself when Jay slid into her arms, their bodies making contact all along their lengths.
“I’m counting on it.”
Barbara wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep. She woke with a start when she heard footsteps approach and keys rattle in the door. A renewed wave of fear crashed over her.
“Here’s some food. Sorry it’s not exactly the Ritz,” Lorraine said, uncuffing Barbara’s hands and recuffing them in front on her. She shoved the tray toward her. “I suggest you eat it—you’re going to be here a while.” Lorraine left, locking the door behind her.
Barbara’s mind raced. Who was this woman? Was she trying to send Barbara a message?
Wishful thinking.
Still she had said it would be a while; that meant they weren’t going to kill her—yet. Barbara closed her eyes and breathed a tiny sigh of relief. She pulled the tray closer, noting
The Value of Valor
that the woman had thought to bring her soft and liquid items to accommodate her swollen jaw and face.
How thoughtful
.
Peter and Max pulled up outside a nice home in Arlington, Virginia.
“Dr. Englert’s house, I presume,” Max said as Peter cut the engine. “Nice digs.”
“We’re in the wrong line of work, Max.”
“No kidding. What do you think, just ring the doorbell?”
Peter surveyed the street. “Let’s take a quick drive around the neighborhood and make sure he’s not being watched.” He pulled away from the curb and made a three-mile loop around the area.
“I don’t see anybody, boss.”
“Me either. Okay, let’s go.”
It took nearly a minute after the doorbell rang for it to be answered. A rotund, middle-aged woman appeared. “Can I help you?”
“We’d like to see Dr. Englert, please, ma’am.”
“At this hour?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Is he expecting you?”
“Who is it, Darlene?” asked a male voice from within.
Peter took advantage of Darlene’s momentary distraction and pushed past her. “Dr. Englert?”
“Wh-who are you? What do you want?”
Peter noted the fear on the doctor’s face and decided to take advantage of it. “We want to talk to you.” He took another two steps forward, watching as Englert backed away.
“About what?”
“About what you’ve been doing lately.”
“M-me? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“We think you do,” Max interjected.
“Are you with the Commission? Did Grayson send you?”
Peter raised an eyebrow but said nothing, preferring to see just how much Englert would divulge.
“I-I meant to tell you about those two guys who showed up at my office today. I did. I just didn’t get a chance. M-my secretary didn’t tell them anything. She doesn’t know anything, I swear.”
Peter wondered how far to push it. He took another step forward.
“Aw, look guys. I’ve done everything Mr. Grayson has asked of me.
I-I’ve kept the patient alive but completely incapacitated.”
“What?” Peter asked, urgency in his voice.
Englert backed up another step. “I haven’t told anyone about any of it—not even my wife.”
“Say it again.”
Lynn Ames
“I swear, she doesn’t know the president is alive. I never told her.
Please.” Englert was so frightened he didn’t appear to realize Peter wasn’t interested in his wife. Sweat left large blotches on his gray turtleneck.
“Take him,” Peter ordered. He tried to keep his face and voice neutral, even as adrenaline pumped through his body. President Hyland was alive!
Max moved in and placed a large hand on Englert’s shoulder.
“T-take me where? P-please…I swear to you…”
Max grabbed Englert’s wrist and held it behind his back. “Let’s go.”
Darlene appeared from the kitchen, where she’d retreated when Peter and Max came in. “What’s going on? Where are you taking Jonathan?”
Neither Peter nor Max answered her; they merely hustled Englert toward the door.
“Jonathan?” Her voice rose in panic.
Englert looked back at her, sadness in his eyes. “It’s all right, Dar.
Everything will be all right. Whatever you do, don’t answer the door.”
“Okay. When will you be back?”
“I don’t know.” His voice trailed off as he was shoved through the doorway.
Peter produced a set of handcuffs from his trunk. “Cuff him and get in the backseat with him.”
“Right, boss.” Under his breath, he muttered, “That was a lot more than we came for, huh?”
Peter winked at him.
“W-where are you taking me?” When Englert received no answer, he assumed the worst. He leaned his head back against the seat, closed his eyes, and began to sob.
Peter rolled his eyes at Max in the rearview mirror. He took his time driving home, wanting to be sure no one followed them.
“Anybody out there, boss?”
“All quiet.”
“Good.”
When they arrived at the condo, Peter took Englert to a back bedroom and used a second set of handcuffs to secure him to the bed frame.
“W-what are you going to do?”
“Don’t go away,” Peter said, winking as he closed and locked the door.
Max was waiting for him in the living room. “That was too easy,”
Max said.
“You’re telling me. What a wimp.”
“You heard what he said? You took it the same way I did, right?”
The Value of Valor
“That President Hyland is alive? You bet I heard him. The question is where and how.”
“Let me guess—we’re going to go get him?”
“Yep. But first we need more answers.”
“And we need Barbara.”
“Yes. I have a feeling she’s in more imminent danger than the president.”
Max raised an eyebrow in question.
“If they wanted to kill the president, they would have done it that night,” Peter said. “There’s got to be some reason they’re keeping him alive.”
“On the other hand, if Barbara has already told them everything she knows…” Max left the thought unfinished.
“Exactly.”
“Do you think Englert knows where she is?”
“Doubtful.”
“Damn.”
“However, chances are he’s someone Grayson values. I think he might be willing to trade.”
“Barbara for Englert?”
Peter nodded.
“You think they’d do that?”
“I think they’d at least pretend they were willing to do that.”
“They’ll try to kill them both.”
“Yes.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that.”
“Max, there’s no need…”
“Don’t even...You go in, I go in.”
“You’re crazy, you know that?”
“I learned from the best.”
“I think it’s time to ask Dr. Englert a few more questions, don’t you?”
“Sure. You going to tell him we’re not with Grayson?”
“Even as scared as he is, I’m pretty sure he’ll figure it out when we start asking him where they’re holding the president.”
“True. You want to take point or you want me to?”
“You do it. You’ve been quiet so far. Let’s see if he likes you any better than me.”
They walked down the hall together.
“Dr. Englert, we’ve got more questions for you.”
“W-what kind of questions?”
“Let’s start with something simple, shall we? Do you know Dr.
Barbara Jones?”
“Who?”
Lynn Ames
Max looked over Englert’s head at Peter, who shook his head.
“Okay. Let’s try something else.” Max moved closer, until he was looming over the doctor. “What drug did you give the president to mimic death?”
“M-” He tried to whip his head around to see Peter. “Who are you people? You’re not from the Commission.”
“No, Dr. Englert. We’re a lot worse.” Max smiled malevolently.
“Or a lot better—that depends on you, Doctor,” Peter said.
“Oh, God,” Englert said, dropping his chin onto his chest. “He’ll kill me.”
“Who, Grayson?”
Englert nodded miserably.
Peter moved around to face him. “Help us and we’ll see that you get out of this safely.”
“He’s got people everywhere.” The doctor wished the floor would open up and swallow him.
“We know,” Peter said. “He had Dr. Conrad killed, didn’t he?”
Englert looked up at him, surprise written on his face. “You know about that?”
Peter nodded. “He’s holding another doctor, too—Dr. Jones.” Peter turned his back to Englert, walked across the room, and looked out at the street through the blinds. “Your Mr. Grayson doesn’t seem to like doctors very much.” He smiled when he heard the doctor moan. “If you were to help us, we’d see to it that you—and your wife—would be spared.”
“Who are you?”
“We’ll ask the questions here, Doctor,” Max said in a deadly quiet voice. “The question was—what drug did you give the president?”
Englert looked from Max to Peter, his breath quickening. “H-how do I know you’ll protect me?”
Max put his arms on Englert’s chair and leaned forward. “You don’t.
What you can be sure of is that if you don’t tell us what we want to know—all of it—you’ll be dead before the night is out.”
“Oh, God.” Englert tried to mop his brow with his shirtsleeve, but the cuffs prevented him from reaching. “O-okay. Okay. I’ll tell you.” He slumped in his chair. “They gave him carbon monoxide to produce the symptoms that made him collapse. Since then he’s been on a steady drip of pancuronium.”
“Pancuronium?” Peter whirled around. “They use that in lethal injections.”
Dr. Englert nodded. “It’s also used as an anesthetic sometimes.
Pancuronium leaves the patient alert but completely incapacitated. I’ve had a nurse monitor his vital signs on an hourly basis.”
The Value of Valor
“You…” Max lunged at Englert, and only Peter’s quick reflexes prevented his fist from connecting with the doctor’s face.
“I take it the autopsy was rigged?” Peter asked, as he shoved Max away.
Englert nodded, his eyes wide as he continued to watch Max. “The whole thing was. I used faulty paddles ostensibly to revive him when he arrived at the hospital.” He flinched as Max flexed his biceps.
Peter held out a restraining hand. “Where did you take the president?”
Englert sighed. “To the National Institute of Mental Health. There’s a secret entrance to the basement from an underground garage.”
“Is he still there?”
“Yes. There’s a nurse with him around the clock and agents guarding the entrance.”
“Why are they keeping him alive?”
“I don’t know—I just follow instructions.”
Max moved a step closer.
Englert tried to throw up his hands to protect his face. “I swear—
that’s the truth.”
“Is there an antidote to pancuronium poisoning?”
Englert nodded. “A neostigmine–atropine cocktail.”
“Will it completely reverse the effects?” Peter asked.
“Most likely, although in his case, since he’s being fed a steady diet of pancuronium via a drip, it might take up to an hour for full recovery of function.” Englert’s eyes tracked Max as he paced around the room.
“When are you due to check on the president next?”
“Tomorrow morning at 6:15.”
“All right. Will the president’s health be adversely affected if you don’t show?”
Englert bit his lip, clearly trying to decide how to answer. “Doctor,”
Peter said, “you won’t be seeing the president again in any event, so don’t think about lying. We’re simply asking if not having a doctor present will further jeopardize the president’s health.”
“No, at this point, the president’s care is all about maintenance.”
“Thank you. How do you usually communicate with Mr. Grayson?”
“He phones me or summons me through an agent.”