Ernest Ademola was dead.
It took a few moments for the reality of what Mercy said to sink in. Chad noted the stunned expressions on the faces of the two other men. Their looks of disbelief mirrored his own feelings of shock.
“This isn’t a coincidence.” Paul spoke aloud the obvious. He smacked his fingers against the table. “If you had doubts, Frank, that this election was in trouble … Well, I don’t know what further evidence you need.”
Chad glanced down at his half-eaten lunch. Rachel and Ademola were dead—both likely murdered by the opposition. And it seemed just as certain that Natalie was being held by the same people. He closed his eyes, afraid of how hard that thought hit him. How had her brown eyes and bright smile had managed to capture his heart in such a short time? He couldn’t erase her image…nor the fact that she might not even be alive—because these people had no qualms I killing those who got in the way.
The pungent scent of fried fish filled his senses and turned his stomach. He pushed his plate away. More than likely when this was over—if they both managed to make it out alive—life would go back to normal. He’d finish out his commitment at the hospital, return to the States, and never see her again.
Except that’s not what he wanted. Maybe it was only the intensity of the situation they’d been thrust into, but he could no longer deny the feelings he felt toward her. Nor the fact that for the first time in a long time he’d found a woman worth holding onto. No. He might not know what the future held, but he didn’t want to lose her yet. Not this way, anyway.
“What are they calling his death? Murder or suicide?” Paul’s question yanked Chad from his thoughts.
Mercy clasped her hands behind her. “An official statement hasn’t been released. I … I just thought you should know.”
“Then how did you find out?” Paul’s brow rose.
Mercy cleared her throat. “My brother has connections with several of the president’s staff. I asked him to call if anything happened.”
“Then well done.”
Mercy smiled. “Thank you, sir.”
Frank stood and moved to the window. “From what I’ve heard so far, I’m guessing that calling this a suicide isn’t an option in this situation.”
“But if they are calling it a suicide—” Paul began.
“Someone wants the situation to disappear.” Chad finished for him. “Like the photos. Another loose end swept under the carpet and forgotten. At least that’s what someone wants to happen.”
“And I’m determined not to let that happen. We’ve got to do something.” Paul scratched his chin. “I’ve got a hole in the west wing of the embassy, an American being held for ransom, and now a dead head of security for a president who’s been targeted for assassination.”
Chad groaned. “It’s beginning to sound like some B-rated movie review.”
“I wish it was. Then I could simply push the Off button so all of this would disappear.” Paul glanced at his watch. “Mercy, let the staff know that I’ll be holding an emergency meeting in fifteen minutes.”
“Yes, sir.”
She left the room, closing the door behind her.
Paul leaned against the table. “Your people should be here as well, Frank. If we’re going to do something to stop this, we’re going to have to work together to come up with a strategy. We’re running out of time.”
Frank nodded and pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll get them here as fast as I can.”
“What communication has there been with the president regarding the situation?” Chad asked.
Paul took a sip of his drink. “When I spoke with his secretary again this morning, I was told that even with the possibility of a threat on his life, he insists on keeping to his schedule.”
“Did you mention the possible involvement of Patrick Seko with the opposition?” Chad asked.
Paul took a sip of his drink. “Yes, but the problem is we still don’t have any solid evidence at this point to back up those claims.”
“What about the e-mails Mercy gave us?”
“While I think our case is strong, apparently the president doesn’t believe it. We still need something more concrete.”
“A dead president would be pretty concrete.” Chad rubbed the back of his neck. “What’s his itinerary for the rest of the day?”
Paul glanced at the notebook in front of him and flipped back a couple of pages. “He’s got a private luncheon at one, press conference at three-thirty, then a brief meeting with the vice president and some of his advisors before the gala at seven.”
Chad rubbed his chin and ran the scenarios. “The press conference will be his most public appearance.”
“True.”
“And all they’ll need is one sharpshooter.”
“A scenario I’d probably dismiss, except for the fact that it looks as if we’ve got more behind this plot than just a handful of rogue mercenaries.”
“What about the FBI attaché?” Chad grabbed another bottle of Coke from the table behind him and popped off the cap. While saving the life of the president was important, finding Natalie was his priority at the moment. He was tired of sitting around doing nothing.
Paul glanced at his watch. “I was told to expect them within the next two hours, but according to the latest memo I received, planes are currently being delayed both in and out of the country.”
Great. Delays in this country might be commonplace, but he was ready for a bit of efficiency.
His cell phone rang. Caller unknown.
He pressed the button to take the call. “Hello?”
Static clogged the line.
“Hello?”
“Chad?”
“Natalie?” His voice caught at the relief that flooded through him at the sound of her voice. She was alive. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. I … I managed to escape.”
Chad gave Paul a thumbs-up, then said a prayer of thanksgiving. “Tell me where you are, and we’ll come pick you up.”
He jotted down the address she gave him. “Did they hurt you?”
“No, I’m fine. Really.”
She sounded shaken, but who wouldn’t be given what she’d gone through the past few days? “You’re sure.”
“Yes.”
Her answer relieved him, but he wouldn’t totally relax until he could see her for himself. He glanced at the address. “Where are you, exactly?”
“I’m with a friend of Stephen’s. At her sewing shop on the south side of the city.” There was a pause on the line. “But Chad … there’s something else you need to know.”
“What is it?”
“There’s a plan to assassinate the president tonight. I talked to Stephen, and while I don’t understand how he’s involved, I believe he’s telling the truth.”
Chad frowned. At this point he trusted Stephen as much as he trusted Patrick. If this were another trap … He swallowed hard. “You really think you can trust him?”
“Yes. I do.”
“How does Stephen know about the plan if he isn’t involved?”
“I don’t know, but he told me it’s going to happen tonight.”
“Where?”
“At the president’s gala.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll make sure that this information is passed on to the right people, but for now, all I am concerned about is getting you here.”
“Thank you.” There was a pause on the line. “And Chad.”
“Yeah?”
“Please hurry.”