Flames engulfed the cabin. Engines screamed. The plane spiraled down and morphed into a car hurtling down even further into a ravine. She tried to stop it, tried to see who had sent it crashing over the edge. But she couldn’t make out the shadowy figure behind the wheel. Then he was taking aim. Right at her.
Cammy jerked awake and opened her eyes. Another horrible nightmare. They’re getting worse, she thought. What time is it anyway? She groped for the digital alarm clock on the bedside table. 3:10. In the afternoon!
She lay there for a long while thinking about the dream. It was one she’d had before. The first part anyway. The part about her father’s plane going down. The pictures of the fire and the engines had plagued her for years. She couldn’t shake them. And lately the image of her car crashing down the hillside and the man with the gun had been added to the mix.
When would it stop? When would she ever be able to sleep peacefully again? When would it all be over?
She hadn’t slept much at all last night. After the agents had brought her back to Hunt’s home, she had still been shaking, reliving the awful moment when the gun went off and Ben had slumped in his chair. She shuddered again at the image and knew that she wouldn’t sleep. She couldn’t sleep. She had stayed up reading most of the night, only dozing off as the first rays of morning light had filtered through the Venetian blinds at the bedroom windows.
Then she was aroused by the alarm she had set for nine o’clock. The general had told her to take the day off, which was just as well since she had to go down to the police station and answer more questions.
She had called Melanie to tell her about Ben. Mel had been so shocked, she could hardly speak. She finally was able to say how sorry she was and how Cammy had to be careful and just concentrate on staying safe. Then she explained that there had been some delay in getting her paperwork squared away, and she wouldn’t be discharged from the hospital until later that afternoon.
Cammy had come back to the house, and the agents had thoughtfully suggested that she try to get some rest. They assured her they’d be right outside. So she had decided to take an hour’s nap.
She never took naps. Not since she was three. But today was different. She was different. Everything was different. She felt vulnerable and scared, and she was running out of options. She peeked through the blinds and felt somewhat reassured when she saw the FBI car right outside the front door.
She headed into the shower, washed her hair and went through the ritual of blow drying it, applying a modicum of make-up and pulling on a pair of beige slacks and a matching sweater.
She hadn’t eaten since last night, and even though she still wasn’t very hungry, she figured she should try to make something. She checked the refrigerator, found some eggs, tomatoes and cheese and put together a quick omelet. She poured a small glass of orange juice and sat down at the kitchen table, the same table where only yesterday, she and Hunt had enjoyed a cup of coffee together.
Hunt. The mere thought of the man brought a wistful smile to her face. He had been gone less than twenty-four hours, and she missed him already. He hadn’t called. And she had no idea when he’d be back. She thought again about the strange entry on his calendar. Get NK BA FLD TS. It still didn’t make any sense. But whenever he did call, she could hardly ask him about something she saw when she had stolen his password. It probably wasn’t anything important anyway.
She finished her omelet, cleaned up the kitchen, set the security system and headed out the front door to join the agents waiting at the curb. “Where to, Ma’am?” one asked.
“I have to go over to Sibley Hospital to pick up a friend, if you don’t mind. She’s being released today. Oh, and since one of the other agents . . . who helped me last night . . . since he brought back my friend’s car, do you think one of you could follow us and take her car back?”
“Sure thing. Hop in.”
Cammy told the driver about the accident with Melanie as well as the break-in at her apartment and how the burglar had stolen her computer. He already knew about the shooting in Georgetown. He listened carefully but offered no observations except to say he and his partner would be with her 24/7. She thanked him but then sat there wondering how much longer she could receive such personal attention.
When they arrived at the hospital, one of the agents went upstairs with Cammy. She pushed through the door. “Hi Mel. This is Mike,” Cammy explained. “He’s with the FBI. Are you ready to go?”
Melanie was dressed and perched on the edge of the bed. “Just about. One of the nurse’s aides said she’d be by with one last form I have to sign. Why don’t you both sit down for just a minute? We can check out the news or something.”
Melanie aimed the remote at the TV set and clicked through the channels until she found CNN. Cammy and the agent settled into a pair of folding chairs and began to listen to an interview with a professor explaining how we should expect another ice age because the cycle of warm ages and ice ages had gone on for millions of years and we were due for a change.
Suddenly, the anchor cut off his guest, looked directly into the camera and announced, “We have a breaking story about an attack on a group of Americans in India. We now switch to Fakhruddin Venkatanaman, our correspondent in New Delhi.”
“Thank you, Rojas. A car bomb exploded near a motorcade carrying an American advance team from New Delhi Airport to their hotel just an hour ago and . . .”
Cammy shrieked and Melanie cried out, “Oh no!” The agent stared at the screen and muttered, “Sons of bitches! Would you look at that.”
“Quiet . . . listen . . .” Cammy implored as Melanie turned up the volume. “It was a three-car motorcade carrying American representatives from the White House, the Pentagon, State Department and CIA. Other motorists in the area are telling CNN that there were casualties. We are working to identify those killed or injured. No group has claimed responsibility for the incident . . .”
“Incident?” Cammy implored. “Incident? Was it Hunt? Was he a casualty?” she screamed at the set.
The agent turned to stare at her. “What? You know those guys?”
“Yes!” she wailed. “They just left last night.”
“Who left last night?”
“Hunt Daniels from the White House.”
“The White House?” the agent asked, incredulous.
“Yes. It’s his house.”
“Whose house?”
“The house where I’m staying.”
“You live with this White House guy?”
“For now . . . my God, Mel . . . do you think?” The CNN cameras were panning the entire area where cars were still smoldering, and a small crowd had gathered although it was still the middle of the night in India.
Mel got off the bed and went over to hug her friend. “Oh, Cam. I can’t believe this. First you . . . us . . . then Ben . . . now Hunt?”
Cammy walked nervously to a side table, grabbed a Kleenex and wiped her eyes. She stared back at the television set and held up her hand as a command for silence. The reporter continued, “We have word that several bodies have been recovered from the motorcade and a series of ambulances transported other members of the party to nearby hospitals. For reaction in Washington, we now switch to our White House correspondent.”
The image of an attractive dark-haired woman standing on the north lawn of the White House came on the screen. “A senior administration official has just confirmed to us that the president held an emergency meeting with his national security advisor, the secretary of defense and national intelligence director on this attack in New Delhi.
“There are now three confirmed dead and numerous others injured. Names will not be released until notification of their next of kin. The president will be calling the families of the dead and injured shortly. The president has vowed to work with the government of India to find and prosecute those responsible for this latest attack.
“Meanwhile, plans are going forward for the mission of the special envoy named by the president just last week. A spokesman for the national security council emphasized the president’s determination to bring India and Pakistan to the bargaining table to negotiate an end to hostilities in the Kashmir region and restore trade and transportation.
“He went on to say that America will endeavor to defuse a volatile situation between two nuclear armed countries that have fought three wars since receiving independence in 1947. Reporting live from the White House, this is Carmelita Morales for CNN.”
Cammy sat transfixed by the pictures on the screen while she nervously twisted the strap of her shoulder bag. “I’ve got to call the White House,” she announced, scrounging in her purse for her cell phone.
“Right,” Mel said anxiously. “Call Hunt’s office. They’ll tell you what’s going on. They have to know.”
Cammy dialed the number and waited. And waited. Somebody must be there. Somebody had to be there. Three more rings and finally a voice said quickly, “Colonel Daniel’s office.”
“This is Dr. Cameron Talbot. I’m a friend of Hunt Daniels. Can you tell me if he’s all right? I mean, in New Delhi? The car bomb? Have you heard if he’s . . . ?”
“I’m sorry, Ma’am. We don’t have any information for you at this time.”
Cammy heard other phones ringing in the background.
The aide sounded harried. “I just can’t help you right now. Can you check back later please?” There was a click, and Cammy’s face fell.
“They don’t know anything.”
“Or they aren’t talking,” Mel ventured. “No. I mean, you heard the report. They haven’t notified the families. But Cam, wait, did Hunt tell you how many people were going over there?”
Cammy held the cell phone in her hand and stared at it in stunned silence for a long moment. “He said it was a team. Five. I think he said five. There was a friend of his from the NSC and then some others from the agencies. I think that’s what he said.”
“Okay. Okay. So there was a group,” Mel said. “And there were cars and drivers and probably some people meeting them. So that’s a whole bunch of people, right? And sure they said there were three people killed. But three out of how many? He’s probably all right. Think about it. The odds.”
Cammy shook her head and glanced back at the TV screen where they had switched back to the scene in New Delhi. Small knots of bystanders were being interviewed. They were describing the explosion, the fire, the quick response by Indian police. But nobody knew anything about the people inside the cars.
A nurse’s aide opened the door and said with a cheery smile, “Here we are Miss Duvall. All the paperwork is in order. Just sign here, and you can go home now.”
Melanie, Cammy and the agent were still focused on the TV screen. The aide said, “Excuse me, Miss Duvall, are you all right?”
Melanie turned around, a look of profound sorrow on her face. “I guess so. But would you do me a favor?”
“Certainly. What do you need?”
“Could you get a couple of Tylenol or something?”
“No problem. I’ll be right back.”
“Are you still getting headaches, Mel?” Cammy asked absently.