Joshua was now in hiding. He had checked himself into the triplex suite at the Palace Hotel in midtown Manhattan. Only two people knew where he was. One was Abby. The other was his long-time private chauffeur, who had booked the room under his brother-in-law’s name and paid cash so Joshua’s name wouldn’t appear on the registry. Then he took one more step to insure he wouldn’t be tracked. Joshua’s company had been developing a super-secure Allfone, one with signal-cloaking capacity so it couldn’t be located via satellite or tower tracing. It was designed for special-ops guys operating in hostile territory, but the Defense Department put the project on hold. Joshua was carrying the prototype with him.
Even Harry Smythe didn’t know his location. But he did advise Joshua that while the federal bench warrant didn’t rate the kind of priority given to escaped prisoners or violent offenders, this was still a serious business. If Joshua was stopped for a traffic ticket or recognized by a federal agent in public somewhere, the jig was up.
Joshua’s plan was to stay undercover until the AmeriNews media service got off the ground. The project was taking longer than Phil Rankowitz had predicted. Then, hopefully, the Roundtable’s project would ignite citizens into immediate action. People would learn that Joshua’s real motives in resisting Senator Straworth’s heavy-handed demands about the RTS system were to protect America. Voters would discover that a gang of Washington politicians were trying to send an American hero to jail. The phone lines at the Capitol switchboard would light up with angry calls from American citizens. Straworth would see his approval ratings drop like a bowling ball in a swimming pool. What else could he do then but withdraw the subpoena entirely?
At least, that was the scenario. But Joshua understood the odds, exactly how many dots had to be perfectly connected for all that to work. The thought of jail didn’t worry him. Sure, Abby was probably right that the bad press of being incarcerated could stain his professional reputation and irreparably damage his businesses.
But Joshua had a more tactical worry. If I’m locked up, I can’t run things. I can’t direct the decisions that need to be made about the AmeriNews project. And what about the RTS refinements that my engineering team and I were working on? We are just on the verge of solving a potential design problem. I can’t afford to be taken out of action.
Before he knew it, it was dinnertime and he was hungry. Just as he was about to order room service, he noticed the message light flashing on the hotel phone. From the front desk. He dialed them and was told that a note was waiting for him. Joshua told them to send it up. A few minutes later a bellman arrived with a sealed envelope. On the outside were written the words To the Gentleman in Room 2507. After tipping the bellman he ducked back into his room and read the note.
Joshua Jordan:
You don’t know us. But we know you. It is important we talk. We can help. I am downstairs in the private dining room, the one with the closed doors. It is not visible to the public. I will have dinner waiting for the two of us. Please forgive me for the note, but in the interests of discretion I must not be seen coming up to your room.
The Patriot’s Wife
Joshua’s first thought was that his cover had been blown. Someone knew where he was. Was this a trap to lure him out of his room? But if the feds were behind it, they wouldn’t be using this cloak-and-dagger stuff. They would simply come up to his room unannounced, armed with a warrant. No, this was something else. He knew he had friends in the Pentagon who were quietly supportive of him. Maybe there were others. But one thing was clear. Now that a federal judge had targeted him for arrest, he needed all the help he could get.
Looks like it’s time to take a calculated risk.
Ten minutes later Joshua was seated in a private room off the main dining room, behind polished mahogany doors that had been closed, eating dinner across the table from an attractive middle-aged woman.
Joshua took another bite of his filet mignon. He had noticed that his host was fashionably dressed. Though Abby would have recognized even more, like the exclusive Vera Wang dress, and the carat weight of the diamond studs in her ears—likely two carats each.
“Sorry to be so secretive,” the woman said. “But I know you’re currently undercover, Mr. Jordan. First, let me tell you how much my husband and I appreciate you.”
Joshua flashed a quick smile and said, “Thank you,” but he immediately had several questions. “Your husband is described in your note only as ‘The Patriot.’ Do I know him?”
“I don’t think so.” Then she added, “but he thinks you’re on the right track. He wanted you to know that.”
“Which track would that be?”
“Your distrust of Senator Straworth. And perhaps a few other members, or their staff, on the special committee investigating the North Korean missile crisis. My husband also agrees with your decision not to give them the RTS design information. Some members of that committee cannot be trusted.”
It was clear this woman had a sharp understanding of Joshua’s world.
“I applaud you and your husband, whoever he is,” Joshua said. “You apparently have a grasp of issues that the media hasn’t covered.”
She smiled. There was something behind the smile. Her next comment told Joshua a lot.
“Sorry to be so clandestine. But we both need to be cautious.”
Her choice of words rang bells. So Joshua pushed a little.
“What is it you came here to tell me?”
“You’re in danger.”
“That’s not very specific.”
“I realize that. Let’s just say that I’m not talking about the things you’re already aware of. Like the crazies out there who don’t understand the reasons for what you did. Or the Capitol Hill political bunch that wants to bury you. None of that.”
“Then what?”
“We have the distinct sense, from multiple sources, that you are at substantial risk from foreign actors.”
Again, her choice of words, the familiar intelligence lingo, rang a bell with Joshua.
“What can I do about it?”
“Nothing yet. I just want you to know we are out there. And if you are willing, then we can set up a meeting so you can be briefed in more detail.”
“This is all very interesting…but I still don’t know your name.”
“For now I’m just the Patriot’s Wife,” she said with a smile.
Then she reached inside her little purse, which was exquisitely decorated with white beads, and pulled something out. She laid it on the table. A white business card. All it said was The Patriot. And there was a telephone number.
He took the card, fingered it, then looked over at the woman. Now it was time to get blunt. “How do I know I can trust you…or your husband?”
“That should be simple,” she said with a grin. Then she rose to leave.
Ever the gentlemen, Joshua rose to his feet with her.
She reached out and shook his hand. Then before turning to leave, she said one more thing to Joshua. “Perhaps you can reflect on two things. First, we were able to locate you here, even though you took precautions to hide from the federal authorities. The U.S. marshals haven’t been able to find you so far. But we did.”
“And the second?”
“We haven’t reported you.”