Chapter Thirty-Four

“We did not come to fear the future. We came here to shape it.” Barack Obama

Kate tried to hold onto that thought as she arrived back at the office. Should she go tell Teresa what had happened? She didn’t want to, but as she was entering the building, she saw Detective Palmer emerging from the elevator. When he spotted her across the room, he nodded, but didn’t attempt to talk to her. She was glad. She had no wish to talk about Oliver. She was doing her best not to think about him. She had to stay focused. All the same, an image kept flashing in her mind—his battered face and mutilated hand. They’d tortured him. He had been one of the best people she had ever known, a truly good man, and they’d tortured him, and then they’d murdered him.

At the thought, the rage she’d been holding at bay rose in her mind like a red mist. Maybe she was wrong; maybe she had to think about Oliver and her sister. Maybe rage was the one thing that would get her through this. Because Gideon had been right. The thought of killing someone, even Harry, made nausea churn in her stomach.

Yeah, great fucking superhero.

She headed down the stairwell and to her office.

As she closed the door, she released the tenuous hold she had on her control, and the tears rolled down her cheeks. She sank onto the chair and didn’t try and stop herself. She’d wanted to look strong for Gideon. She’d dragged him into this, and now they were both going to die. Oh, she knew he had some idea that he could do it all himself, but he was wrong.

She didn’t want anyone else she cared about to die.

She allowed herself five minutes to decompress, then blew her nose, wiped her eyes, and switched on her systems. Just as the screen flashed to life, there was a knock on the door. It opened without her speaking, and there was Teresa, all red eyes and streaked mascara. Kate hadn’t been convinced that Teresa had any feelings for Oliver. In fact, she’d been pretty sure that the other woman had been given the job as Oliver’s assistant for the main purpose of spying on him and reporting back any subversive activity. Not that there would have been any—Oliver was too bright for that.

“He’s dead,” she said.

Kate nodded. “I know.”

Teresa came into the room and sank onto the only other seat in there. “They told me you found him.”

“I did. I was worried when he wasn’t here this morning.”

“He’d been tortured?”

She wasn’t sure what to say, what to do. There was that image again, but she didn’t want to share that with Teresa. So she just gave another nod.

“Who would do that?” Teresa asked. “He was the kindest man ever.” She bit her lip and stared Kate in the eyes. “When they gave me the job, they told me to report back on him. Anything he said against the Party. And I was happy to. I felt like I was contributing. But he never said anything wrong. Ever. And I told them that.”

Kate still had no clue what to say. Did Teresa suspect foul play from her beloved Party? Was some of this guilt, or was it just disillusionment?

Teresa sniffed, and Kate opened a drawer, found a pack of tissues. She handed them to the other woman, who blew her nose. “He once told me that we all have to do what we believe to be right. He knew I was there to spy on him, and he was still so nice to me.”

“He was a nice man.”

“The Secret Service were waiting for me two nights ago. They wanted to know if there was anything new. Anything I could tell them. I said there was nothing. But they were so persistent.”

Had they been looking for a legitimate reason to arrest him? So when Teresa had given them nothing, they’d taken another approach?

“Maybe they weren’t real agents,” Teresa said, sounding hopeful. “The president would never condone something like this. Maybe they were tied to his killers, and I could help. I don’t know what to do. Who to go to.”

“No one,” Kate said. “There’s nothing you can do for Oliver now. You’ll just make trouble for yourself.” She had an idea. “They might even take your Political Officer status from you.”

“I don’t care if it would help catch his murderers.”

There was zero chance of that, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell Teresa. “Look, I have a friend in the Secret Service. If you give me their names and a description, he’ll check them out for you.” She handed Teresa a piece of paper and pen and watched as she wrote something down.

Glancing at the names, she couldn’t help wondering if these were Oliver’s killers.

Teresa stood. “I’m sorry. I just needed to speak to someone. I feel better now.” Kate wished it was that easy for her, but she suspected that most of what Teresa was feeling was due to guilt rather than to genuine feelings for Oliver. “I’ll say a prayer for him at tomorrow’s prayer meeting.”

“He’d like that.” Not. Oliver had been an atheist with no time for religious nonsense, as he called it. “I’ll make sure I attend.” Something occurred to her. Dare she ask? “Teresa?”

“Yes.” The woman paused on her way to the door.

“These Secret Service agents. Did they ask anything about me?”

Teresa’s eyes widened as though the question surprised her. “No. Of course not. Why would they?”

Why indeed? “Just that Oliver was my boss, and I was his friend.” Though they’d played that down a lot over the last few years.

Teresa took a step closer and patted her on the arm. “Don’t worry. You know the president. You’re above reproach.”

“Of course. I’m just being silly. This whole thing has shaken me up, and on top of Stella… It’s all just a little too much.”

“You poor thing. You’ve been through so much. At least you have that nice man to look after you now. A real hero. Think about him and put this behind you.”

“I’ll try.”

She waited until the door closed on Teresa and sat back. They’d been looking for something against Oliver, and when they hadn’t found anything, they’d set it up to look like a burglary. Was Harry just cleaning up?

Who would be next?

Did the administration have Oliver killed?

There is a 99 percent probability.

That was enough for her. The bastards were going to die. She just didn’t know how. But it was time to find out. First, maybe, she could at least see if anyone else was at risk.

Can you give me a list of anyone else who might be in danger?

A minute later, a list appeared on the screen and her eyes were drawn immediately to a name halfway down. Her mother. Why? She had a flashback to the funeral. When Harry had said that her mother blamed him. Did he suspect she knew about his attack on Stella?

Panic flooded her. This wasn’t happening. Her hand was shaking as she reached for the phone. She punched in her parents’ number. It was picked up straightaway.

“Hello?”

Her father’s voice. “Dad, it’s Kate. Is mom there?”

She held her breath.

“Yes. You want to talk to her?”

“No.” She thought quickly. She hated that she didn’t quite trust her father, but really, she had no choice. “Just stay near her today. Don’t let her go out and don’t leave her alone.”

“What’s this about, Kate?”

“Nothing, maybe.” She hoped he would realize that she didn’t want to talk over the phone. “I’m just a little worried about her. She seemed very down when we spoke last.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll come around soon and talk to you both.”

“We’ll be here.”

She put the phone down and made herself concentrate on the rest of the list. There were about fifty names, quite a few she recognized. At least neither she nor Gideon was on there.

Can you warn these people? Anonymously.

I can.

She knew there was a good chance that they wouldn’t believe the warning. Or, that even if they did, there was very little they could do to keep themselves safe. But there was nothing else she could do for them. Except go on with the plan.

On to the main thing.

I need a list of scenarios where it might be possible to assassinate the president, and the associated probabilities of success. Anything over 75 percent.

Will Captain Frome be assisting you?

Yes.

She wasn’t entirely happy about that, but this wasn’t about her happiness, it was about preventing a catastrophe. Which meant that, whether she liked it or not, Gideon would be assisting. Though she suspected that, if it came down to action, she’d be the one assisting. Or, more likely, getting in the way.

She was expecting Auspex to take some time, but the information came up almost immediately.

There are no scenarios with a greater than 75 percent probability of success.

Well, that wasn’t good news. She thought for a while. Give me anything you’ve got, starting with the best chance.

As the information came up, her gaze went immediately to the top of the list. 57 percent. That was her best chance? Shit. Though it was a little better than fifty-fifty. Harry would be visiting his father in the medical care home.

Next on the list was the opening of a wing at The Smithsonian in honor of his father. That had a 51 percent chance. There would be a lot of publicity around that one. More chance of getting in there unnoticed. But also correspondingly high security. Maybe that was why the chance of success was lower.

The next on the list was a meeting with a women’s group actually at the White House. The probability was less than 10 percent. Not good. It looked like there were only two options worth looking at. She dug into her bag and found her tablet, plugged it in.

Can you give me everything you have on the top two?

A minute later, she slipped the tablet into her bag. Security had never checked it before; she just hoped today wouldn’t be the first time.

She’d get away from here for a while. Get some fresh air and go through the information before she passed it on to Gideon. Maybe together they could come up with a plan for what came next.