CLAY WAINWRIGHT often tricked people into believing he was just an average guy. But today, seated in his den at his town house with the entire O’Neil clan, he seemed every inch the vice president of the most powerful country in the world. Despite his battered face and casual slacks and sport shirt, he was in command, forceful and angry as hell. From across the room, C.J. watched him wield his power.
“Mary Kate, Patrick, I wanted to update you on what’s been happening here.”
Pa O’Neil sat stiffly his chair. “No offense, Clay, we like you now, but kidnapping and hostage situations aren’t what we’d hoped for our daughter.”
A muscle leaped in Clay’s jaw. “I know, and I’m sorry my job has put her in harm’s way. Mitch and I have hammered out a plan to keep her and the kids safe. Rory gets back from the camping trip tomorrow, then the next day is Jenkins’s funeral in Connecticut. Bailey, the kids and I will leave for Washington immediately afterward.” He glanced over at his wife, who nodded to him. “The residence on Observatory Way can be a veritable fortress and I’m going to keep her, Rory and Angel there until the FBI gets to the bottom of this.”
“What if they don’t, Clay?” This from Bailey’s mother. “You can’t lock them up forever.”
“I can assure you three government agencies—the Secret Service, the FBI and the CIA—are on top of this and will have some answers soon.”
“What do you think, Bay?” Dylan asked. He was leaning against the wall next to Aidan.
“I’ll do whatever’s necessary to protect Rory and Angel and little Paddy, here.” She lifted her chin. “I agreed to everything Clay and Mitch think is best, except I’m going to Tim Jenkins’s funeral.”
Jenkins’s body had been brought back by his colleagues when they returned from Zanganesia on the DC-11 with Clay. Calling hours would be held tomorrow, and the funeral was the next day. C.J. steeled herself against the images of putting one of her friends in the ground. She would go and do her duty and stay strong, as was expected of her.
Clay faced his wife squarely. “The jury’s still out on your attending the funeral, Bailey.” His voice deepened with concern. “Everybody will expect you to be there. After a death threat on your life, you should not go.”
“Make this work for me, Clay, because I’m going.”
C.J. saw Aidan’s lips thin. Lips she’d kissed until they were swollen. Lips which had made her tingle everywhere. Memories of him had haunted her since their sojourn at the lake, but particularly since Jenkins’s death. She’d traded a life with Aidan for what? Endangering herself every single day, risking death like Tim?
Mitch said, “We can seal off the church and cemetery with agents. Most of them will want to be at the funeral anyway. C.J. and I won’t leave Ms. O’Neil’s side.”
Clay’s jaw tightened. “Mark Langley will be there, too. It will be even more dangerous with the president of the United States in attendance.”
“Or more under control just because he’s there.” Bailey stared hard at her husband. “In any case, this is my decision, Clay, not yours. I’m going.”
“I thought it was our decision.”
Bailey folded her arms over her chest.
Shaking his head, Clay finally said, “All right. But I don’t like it.”
He turned to Bailey’s brothers. “Thanks for what you did holding Bailey’s hand through this ordeal.” He zeroed in on Aidan. “And Aidan, I appreciate your going to the lake with her.”
“I’ll never forget my time at the lake,” he said, not glancing at C.J.
Most everyone chuckled, thinking Aidan was being sarcastic about experiencing all the cloak and dagger of protection firsthand, and then the excitement of the attempted kidnapping.
C.J. knew better.
Clay transferred his gaze to her. “And C.J., thank you again for saving Rory from the kidnappers.” His voice was strained and held a hint of vulnerability.
“You’ve already thanked me, Mr. Vice President.”
Pa O’Neil got up, crossed to her and hugged her. “He’s my boy, too,” Pa said, drawing back. “I don’t know what I’d do if...” He shrugged and turned away.
“We can never thank you enough,” Clay reiterated. “If you ever need anything from me, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Be careful. I might hold you to that, sir.” Agents rarely joked with protectees but she was trying to diffuse the tension in the room.
Once again Clay spoke to the whole clan. “I hope our plans help you sleep better at night.”
A knock on the door. Gorman poked her head in. “Mr. Vice President, Agent Masters is here.”
“We’re ready for him now. Send him in.” Clay got up and circled the desk.
Patrick and Dylan exchanged looks. Aidan stared ahead. C.J. pivoted so she didn’t have to watch him. They hadn’t had any private conversations since Clay returned. Mostly Aidan had avoided her and she tried to stay out of his way. She had no idea what he thought about her and David in the yard last night. She’d considered catching him alone and explaining that the encounter had been innocent. But ultimately, she decided it would just make things harder between them.
Jack Masters entered the spacious den. About forty, tall, he moved with confidence and authority. C.J. had worked with him in Washington and respected him.
Clay said, “I asked you to come today to update me, and fill in the O’Neils as to what the FBI is doing to keep Bailey and the kids safe.”
The agent took a seat. “As you know, we isolated the gender and nationality of the kidnappers through genetic testing of DNA on the strand of hair found on Rory’s clothes. The two people C.J. saw were dressed as boys, but at least one was female.”
“And Asian, right?” Clay said.
“Aren’t the Anthrax girl gang member and her cousin Asian?” Dylan asked.
“Yes, they’re Chinese. But they both have alibis for the day of the kidnapping. Annie-O was in school at a community college course all day long. Sasha Sanders wasn’t even in Penn Yan. Her parents took her to visit friends in Corning. We checked on both alibis. They work.”
“So who was it?”
“One theory is that the kidnappers were tied to the terrorists.”
“Holy Mother of God.” Mary Kate made the sign of the cross.
Dylan pushed off from the wall, went to his mother and placed a hand on her shoulder. “How exactly would that have played out?”
“The scenario goes like this: Mr. Wainwright was supposed to be accompanied by Ms. O’Neil to Zanganesia, where the terrorists planned to take her and the vice president hostage. When they got wind of her canceling, they put a secondary plan into place to kidnap Rory, especially when they learned he’d be outside of Washington and more easily accessible. But when Agent Ludzecky foiled that attempt, the terrorists went ahead and took Mr. Wainwright as a hostage. This hypothesis presupposes that their agenda all along was to scare Mr. Wainwright off from influencing Zanganesian laws further and to release those arrested to this point. The end result was the same whether they had you, Mr. Vice President or Ms. O’Neil or Rory.”
Dylan asked, “The terrorists still haven’t been found, right?”
“No. They’ve gone underground His gaze turned flinty. “But after what happened with Jenkins, we’ll get them. I can promise you that.”
“Then Bailey’s still at risk because of them.”
“If they were involved in the kidnapping attempt, yes. It’s one reason Ms. O’Neil needs stringent protection.”
“Do you think it was them?” Pa O’Neil asked.
“No. It’s just one avenue we have to consider. We can’t afford to ignore any possibility.” He shook his head. “But in my professional opinion, these terrorists weren’t organized enough or competent enough—witness Clay’s escape—to have plans for the kidnapping and the death threat way over here, in addition to what they were doing thousands of miles away.”
Dylan scowled. “So the death threat and the kidnapping attempt may not be related? That’s hard to believe.”
“Too hard. Too much coincidence. I believe there’s definitely a link between those two things, but neither involves Zanganesia. I think the kidnappers-slash-threat-makers are out to hurt Ms. O’Neil. They could do that by snatching Rory or doing her bodily harm.”
“Who the hell are they?” Pa asked.
“Our best guess is that both these things are related to Ms. O’Neil’s old gang activities.” Masters looked at his notes. “Since the Anthrax girl is out, we’re back to the GGs.”
“We’ve been over this a thousand times.” Bailey sounded exasperated. “Mazie Lennon’s still in prison for murdering Taz. And the other girls are on the Watch List and haven’t been active again.” She angled her head. “Did you get the sealed records from juvenile court?”
“Yes. In the process of disbanding the GGs, three young girls were rounded up and put in juvie. They’re out now and have left town or gone straight, like the older ones.”
“Then why do you suspect the GGs still?” Bailey asked.
“Because of Mazie Lennon. We’ve been watching her and viewing the tapes of her visitors in the last few months at Lancaster State Penitentiary. One was a young Asian boy.”
“Well,” Clay said. “That’s a lead. And a connection.”
“We can’t track him down, though, even through the routine previsit information and identity checks given to everybody.”
Clay gripped a pen on his desk. “Maybe C.J. can tag the boy as one of the kidnappers.”
“I looked at the pictures, Mr. Wainwright. It could be him, but I can’t be sure. Everything happened so fast and of course, I had a bad angle.”
“Question Lennon, then.” Clay practically barked the words out.
“We’ve got that scheduled for tomorrow. With the hostage crisis, some of our attention was diverted.”
“Understood.” Clay nodded to Masters. “I want you to handle this personally, Jack.”
“I will, Mr. Vice President. Be assured that we’re working hard on the case and running down every lead. We’ll find the perpetrators.” His gaze encompassed Mitch and C.J. “Meanwhile, stay close to them. Keep them safe.”
Mitch’s look was hard. “You can count on it.”
After the FBI agent left, Mica Proust, Clay’s press secretary, stuck her head in the door. She’d flown to New York this morning with his chief of staff, Jack Thornton. “Vice President Wainwright, we’ll be starting in a few minutes.”
Clay had called a press conference about the hostage situation. It was his responsibility to assure the public he was unharmed. Since Bailey needed to be there, too—the kidnapping had been sensationalized and they wanted to show the American people she was unharmed—Clay had decided to hold the gathering on the front lawn of the town house. Secret Service agents swarmed the area, it had been secured three times over and sharpshooters had been placed on rooftops.
The vice president’s gaze turned cold. “I’m assuming Rachel Scott isn’t here.”
Mica nodded. “Thorn went over to the station and met with the president of WNYC. He caved, though he made some noise about freedom of the press.”
“I’m not curtailing anyone’s freedom.” Clay’s expression got even colder. “I’m asking for more responsible journalism from them. I don’t want Rachel Scott doing the stories about us. The station can choose somebody else to cover our activities.”
“In any case, she isn’t outside right now, but my guess is her lawyers will be dealing with this at some point.”
“Bring ’em on!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you contact Hank Sellers about the story I’d like him to do?”
Clay had formed an unlikely relationship with a Village Voice reporter two years ago after he’d put a positive spin on Clay and Bailey’s surprising marriage.
“He’ll be here at four.”
“Why are you seeing Sellers?” Dylan asked.
“I want something out there from me personally. I want to let the public and the stations know that I’m disgusted with Scott and her brand of journalism. Somebody has to take a stand on the paparazzi.”
“I see.”
Clay studied Dylan. “I never thought to ask you if you’d want the interview from me for your column.”
“No, not now, anyway. I’d need more input, research, et cetera, to use it for my column. Maybe when this is over, CitySights might pursue it. Go ahead with Sellers. He’s a good guy.”
Clay stood. “Patrick, Mary Kate, we’ll see you before we leave of course.” He smiled at Bailey’s brothers. “You, too, guys.” Together he and Bailey went to tackle the press.
“So,” Aidan said scanning the room. “They’ll be gone in two days. You all will. For good.”
Again, C.J. averted her gaze.
“They’re coming back for yours and Pa’s birthday.” Dylan winked at his mother. “Can’t miss the big four-oh and seven-oh.”
Mary Kate went into mother mode. “Forty years old, and not married. You should have yourself a nice girl with you at your party, Aidan.”
C.J. felt her throat close up. Aidan would find himself a nice girl. Marry her. And she’d have his babies, just like in the horrible nightmare C.J. had at the lake.
Aidan faced his mother with a phony smile. “Okay, Mama. I’ll do my best to find myself a nice girl.”
The words cut like a knife and regardless of what anyone thought, C.J. strode out of the room.
o0o
THE CAMP was cleaned up, and twenty little boys were ready to go back to their homes after spending a week in the wilderness. The excursion had been full of swimming, hiking, campfires and camaraderie. Many of the scouts had finished badges. Liam was glad for the respite from the politics of Bailey’s life, but now it was back to reality. A grim reality.
Before any parents arrived, Liam drew Mikey and Rory off to the side for some privacy, as much as you could have with three agents standing guard a few feet away. This talk couldn’t wait. He’d put it off as long as possible because Rory would be upset and Mikey could go further into his funk. His son had been happy and carefree on the camping trip and Liam hated to spoil his mood.
He smiled at the two of them sitting on top of the picnic table, their green T-shirts imprinted with “Boy Scout Troop Number Four—Liam’s Lads.”
“I gotta tell you guys something.” He thought about saying they needed to be brave, but why the hell should they suppress their emotions? “Rory, your daddy went to Zanganesia on a goodwill tour, do you remember that?”
Rory tugged on the camp cap he wore. “Yeah, I know. That means he’s making friends, right?”
He was supposed to. “Yeah.”
Mikey went white. “Something happen to Uncle Clay?”
“He’s safe at home now, but something did happen.” Liam explained the hostage situation as simply as possible, downplaying the threats and the violence as much as he could.
Rory’s eyes filled. “He’s okay, right?”
“Yes, honey. He has some bruises but he’s going to be fine.”
“He got beat up?” Mikey’s tone was horrified.
“The terrorists roughed him up some, but the important thing is he’s okay.”
“We gonna go back to Washington now?” Rory said. “ ’Cause it’s safer?”
“You are. The day after tomorrow.”
Mikey’s eyes turned bleak and his little body sagged.
“I know you’re going to miss Bailey and Rory, son.”
“And C.J.”
“Yeah, and C.J. I’m sorry. But school will be starting soon and you’ll see your friends. You’ll have a lot to do then and you won’t miss them so much.”
Disbelieving eyes stared up at him. Damn it to hell! The kid kept losing people he loved. It seemed like he’d get close to somebody and something would happen to them or they’d go away. Liam wondered how much more Mikey could take. So he tried to reassure him. “Grandpa’s okay now, too, Mike. He’ll be around to keep you company.”
Mikey’s face was passive. Accepting.
Liam picked up his son and hugged him tight. Mikey headlocked his neck and clasped his legs around Liam’s waist. The boy seemed so frail. Cleary was a big kid and had a lot of self-confidence, but Kitty always had to assure Mikey he’d grow up brawny like his dad. Since her death, Liam couldn’t sway him as much as she could. He admitted he couldn’t fill a lot of the gaps Kitty had left in their lives.
They were quiet on the drive back. Jerry Grayson drove the Suburban and another car followed with the other two agents. Usually on trips, there were shouts and howls from the backseat, and some bickering between the boys. On the way up, the three of them had sung camp songs. Nothing today. Alone with his thoughts, Liam worried about Mike and about Bailey. And about his brother-in-law who’d become a friend to him and the best thing that happened to the country in a long time.
The town house appeared to be under siege when they pulled up to the curb. Rory said. “Look at all these people!”
Mike stared mutely out the window.
Mitch Calloway opened Rory’s door and bent his head in.
“Hi, Mitch.” Rory hugged him and Mitch smiled. Bailey had told Liam once that normal protocol observed with the agents broke down because of Rory’s open affection with them.
They were ushered inside, and Bailey met them at the door. “Hey, buddy, I missed you.”
Rory flung himself at her. “Mommy.”
Clay came to the entrance to his den. “Hey, Champ.”
Untangling himself from his mother, Rory raced to his father and leapt into his arms. Liam caught a glimmer of tears in the kid’s eyes. When he drew back, he said, “Wow, they hit you bad.”
“They did.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Yep, it hurt.” He walked to the couch, holding his son close. “Let’s sit a minute.”
Liam knew what was coming so he grasped Mikey’s hand, led him to a chair and dragged the boy onto his lap. They’d agreed to let Clay reveal this last piece of information.
“I have some bad news, Rory. You remember Tim Jenkins?”
“Uh-huh. He plays cards with me sometimes, but made me promise not to tell.”
Clay swallowed hard and glanced across the room to Bailey. She nodded. “I’m sorry, son, but Agent Jenkins died trying to protect me in Zanganesia.”
“Huh?” Rory scowled and again the tears came. “Agents aren’t supposed to get killed, Dad. You said so.”
“I know.” Clay’s voice was strained. “This happened because of some very bad people.”
Liam ran his hands up and down his son’s arms. “Mikey, did you hear that? About Agent Jenkins?”
Turning around, Mikey stared up at him, his eyes even bleaker than before. “Yeah, it means C.J. could get killed, too.”
There was a noise at the doorway. Liam looked up to find Aidan standing at the front entry. From the expression on his face, it was obvious he’d heard Mikey’s remark. And it was also obvious that things had progressed—a lot—in the doomed relationship between Aidan and his pretty Secret Service agent.