Exclusive (45 page)

A tropical bird in a tall white cage sent up a terrible racket, although her shot had wounded only a Boston fern. The bird's ruff was standing on end, his multicolored wings were extended and flapping, and he was still screeching. "Shit!" she said.

They left the building at a dead run, although hospital personnel were obviously accustomed to the bird's temper tantrums because no one was pursuing them. Keeping to the

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shadowed perimeter, they skirted the well-tended yard until they reached the parking area.

"Hold it," Gray said.

She stopped, turned. She was breathing heavily. He seemed barely winded as he listened to the voice in his earpiece. He clicked on his transmitter. "Something in the employee parking lot?" he said into the microphone. The other Secret Service agent! Barrie had almost forgotten him.

Her eyes automatically swung up to the roof, but she couldn't see him.

Gray motioned her forward with his chin. She turned and began running again. Gray was right behind her, but she heard him say with feigned puzzlement, "No, she hasn't been disturbed." Then he shouted, "Damn! He's on to us, Barrie."

She ran full out the rest of the way to the pickup. When they reached it, she opened the rear door of the camper and clambered inside, then assisted Gray as he stepped in and laid Vanessa on the bench along the wall.

"Hold on!" he said as he leaped out the door and slammed it behind him.

Moments later, the pickup was gunned to life and they began to move.

Seconds after that, a shrill alarm pierced the peaceful countryside surrounding Tabor House.

"Delicious pie, Amanda. Thank you."

David smiled up at her as she picked up his empty dessert plate and placed it on a serving tray. "Thank you, David. I'm glad you enjoyed it. Would you care for more?"

"No, thanks." He patted his belt. "Every calorie counts."

Unsmiling, she asked if he would like more coffee. He accepted, watching her closely as she refilled his cup. Then

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she excused herself, taking the serving tray with her and leaving him and George alone in the Allans' comfortable living room.

"Amanda never has warmed to me, has she?" David said.

"Want something in that?" George was at the liquor cabinet, adding a liberal amount of B & B to his coffee.

"No, thanks."

The President had invited himself over for the evening. George's two sons had reacted with predictable excitement. President Merritt had asked to see their homework and had written each a note to take to school the next day to share with their classmates.

After taking them away to bed, Amanda had offered to serve him and George pie and coffee in the living room. Her manner bordered on hostility, but David was used to her cold shoulder and, as he had for years, ignored it and pitied poor George for being married to such an icicle.

George returned to the sofa with his spiked coffee. David noticed that the doctor's hands were shaking enough to rattle the delicate china. "Why so nervous, George? If I didn't know better, I'd think you had a guilty conscience."

In a desperate undertone, George asked, "Why'd you come here tonight?"

"Aren't I welcome in the home of one of my closest and dearest friends?"

"I didn't mean to imply that."

"Good. I'm glad to hear it." David gave his fresh coffee a languid stir.

"Now that we're alone, I'll get down to business."

"Which is . . . ?"

"I'd like your opinion of the health care bill Congress has submitted. I value your viewpoint as a physician."

Taken completely off guard, George stammered, "I . . . I'm only familiar with the major points."

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"Which should give you a basis for an opinion. What do you think of it?"

When the telephone rang, George practically leaped from the sofa to answer it. "Hello. Dr. Allan speaking." He listened. "Yes, he's here."

He turned and extended the telephone to David. "It's urgent," he whispered.

"Put it on speakerphone."

George gave him a puzzled look, but did as requested. "This is the President," David said.

He listened as the caller informed him that the First Lady had been taken from Tabor House.

"What do you mean, taken?"

"Abducted, Mr. President. Kidnapped."

David came slowly to his feet. "What?" he said tightly.

The hapless messenger repeated the message.

"Where was the goddamn Secret Service?" he barked.

"The agents were overpowered, Mr. President. Mrs. Merritt was carried from her room, placed in a vehicle, and driven away. The operation was well rehearsed and executed, sir. The hospital security force and Secret Service agents did their best to stop the abductors at the gate. However, they couldn't risk shooting at the vehicle and wounding the First Lady. The pickup truck failed to stop despite the warning shots fired. It crashed through the barrier and, unfortunately, escaped."

The loud conversation had drawn Amanda from another part of the house.

David noticed that she didn't appear unduly surprised by the news. "Has anyone claimed responsibility? A terrorist group?"

"Gray Bondurant and Barrie Travis have been identified as the suspects, Mr. President."

Upon hearing that, David's breath left his body in a rush. "Christ Almighty!" He plowed his fingers through EXCLUSIVE 405

his hair. "Has Bondurant gone completely around the bend?"

"He boldly approached the Secret Service agents guarding Mrs. Merritt's room, sir, and pretended to be acting on your behalf."

"Well, he wasn't!" David shouted, outraged by the suggestion. "He's to be treated like any other criminal. Is that understood?"

"Absolutely, Mr. President. The FBI's been notified. Local law enforcement has already located the vehicle. It was left parked at a truck stop several miles from the hospital. There was no sign of the First Lady or her kidnappers. Apparently they switched vehicles, sir."

More collected now, David said, "I'm returning to the White House immediately. I can be reached in the car."

"Certainly, Mr. President."

When the call was disconnected, David rounded on George. "How could you let this happen?"

"It wasn't my fault!" the doctor cried. "I wasn't even there. There must have been a breach in security."

"To say the very least," David shouted. "It seems that every time I place Vanessa under your care, something dreadful happens."

From the doorway, Amanda said, "If anyone is to blame for this, it's you, David."

"Amanda!" George exclaimed.

David wanted to strangle the snooty bitch for speaking to him like that, but he had to admire the guts it took. "Forget it, George," he said brusquely. "I've got to get back to the White House immediately. Are you coming with me?"

"Certainly."

They went down the front walkway, flanked by Secret Service agents who obviously had been alerted to the latest emergency. The limo awaited at the curb, one car behind

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it, one in front, four motorcycle policemen leading the motorcade.

Speeding through the streets toward Pennsylvania Avenue, David checked to see that the tinted glass behind the driver was raised, then turned to George and began laughing.

"I told you he would do it. Didn't I tell you that Gray was noble enough, crazy enough, to stage a dramatic rescue?"

George Allan stared into space. "Yes, David. That's what you told me."

"I knew he'd try to get her out of there. And when Spence's men reported that the old man, Welsh, was being used as a decoy tonight, I figured the escape was on."

"It seems you were correct on all counts."

"Did you do your part, George?"

"Yes. Just before I left her tonight."

"And it'll work?"

"It'll work. She'll die from a toxic level of lithium."

This would, of course, be determined in the postmortem, but neither the doctor nor the president would ever be suspected because they were having pie and coffee together when Vanessa fell into the hands of Gray Bondurant and his accomplice, Barrie Travis. They would be charged with kidnapping and murder.

As an intimate friend, Gray would know that Vanessa's medication had to be carefully monitored and administered. Too small a dosage of lithium and her mood disorder couldn't be controlled. Too much could cause seizures, coma, or death, especially when combined with the sedatives she was being given at the hospital to ensure the rest that she needed.

"They'll want to know where Gray obtained the drug," George observed.

"A man of his resourcefulness?" David said, dismissing that as a problem.

"A good prosecutor will have no trouble EXCLUSIVE 407

convincing a jury that he's clever enough to have obtained and destroyed all evidence of it."

"I'm unclear on their motive," George said. "If they went to all that trouble to rescue Vanessa, why would they kill her?"

George was so dense, sometimes David wondered how he'd ever earned a medical degree. He also had an irritating tendency to make simple things difficult.

"Gray was Vanessa's spurned lover. He wore his heart on his sleeve for the whole damn country to see. At first he was content to leave Washington and nurse his wounded pride in seclusion. But his antagonism festered.

Finally, his ego couldn't be assuaged until Vanessa was dead."

"And Barrie Travis?"

"Is in love with Gray. She was happy to eliminate her competition. After the Shinlin incident, they're public enemy number one and number two.

People will be ready to believe them capable of this heinous crime." The President leaned his head back and smiled. "It's such a brilliant plan, George. So damn perfect. Spence always said it's better not to destroy your enemies but to let them destroy themselves. Too bad he isn't here to see this. He would have loved it."

Chapter

6enator Armbruster was waiting for Barrie and Gray at the prearranged spot. The rotors on the helicopter were already whirling.

"Thank God you made it," he said as Gray bounded out of the car. "How is she?"

"Alive."

The senator had handpicked a team of medical personnel, ready to administer whatever emergency treatment Vanessa might require on the flight back to Washington. As she was lifted from the car and laid on a gurney, the doctor in charge began issuing orders to those assisting him.

"Sweetheart, what have they done to you?" Armbruster clasped his daughter's cold hand as he ran alongside the gurney toward the helicopter.

Gray detained the doctor long enough to shout, "It was awfully easy to get her out of there. Too easy. The damage might already be done."

Nodding that he understood, the doctor didn't wait to hear more. He jumped into the chopper, and within seconds

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it was airborne, leaving Barrie and Gray in the windy crosscurrents on the empty shopping mall parking lot.

Barrie had recorded the transfer on video. Although the quality wouldn't be up to normal broadcast standards, it would be invaluable. They watched as the helicopter banked and headed back toward D.C.

"What'd you mean by that?" she asked Gray as she replaced the camera in her satchel. "What you said to the doctor."

"I've got a feeling that the folks at Tabor House knew we were coming."

She looked at him sharply.

"Think about it," he said. "Except for a token show of force there at the end, we essentially walked in and walked out with the First Lady of the United States." His face set and tense, he stared after the chopper. "We might have been too late to save her life."

"Freeze! FBI!"

The shout came out of the darkness behind them. Reflexively, they spun around. Four men were coming toward them at a run, handguns extended and aimed. Headlights flashed on. Two cars roared onto the parking lot and screeched to a halt only yards from them.

"Hands on your head, Bondurant."

Apparently he saw the advisability of complying. One of the agents came forward, found the pistol in his waistband, and took it. Another agent seized Barrie's satchel and patted her down. "I'm not armed."

"Don't say anything," Gray told her as he was being handcuffed and read his rights.

Following his lead, Barrie submitted to the arrest without a struggle. The story she had to tell, along with the video, would surely absolve her and Gray of any crimes committed during the rescue of the First Lady. But telling it

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now would be a waste of breath. She would wait until Senator Armbruster and Vanessa herself could corroborate the allegation that the President had killed his son and had planned his wife's death.

Barrie was escorted to one of the cars, Gray to the other. The agent held the door for her and assisted her into the backseat.

What she saw there, lying on the seat, filled her with such terror that she screamed and tried to back out of the open car door. "Gray!" But the agent had his hand on her back, pushing her inside.

Through the car window, she saw Gray. He'd heard her scream, sensed her alarm, and was struggling with the agents who were trying to force him into the other car. But with his hands cuffed behind him, he couldn't fight back. He was shoved into the backseat. Doors were slammed shut. With a squeal of tires, both cars sped away.

Barrie sobbed as she gazed at the other passenger in the backseat of the gray sedan, who stared back at her with sightless eyes, an obscenely vacant expression on her face, matted wig askew. Dolly.

George Allan looked down at his two sleeping sons, their heads barely visible above the covers. His younger son, in the bottom bunk, was the rascal, the athlete, the destined-tobe heartbreaker. His charm would glide him easily through life.

The older boy had inherited Amanda's seriousness. Even in sleep, he seemed to be sorting through a problem. Of the two, he was the smarter, the overachiever. His intellect and self-discipline would guarantee his success in whatever field he chose. George hoped it would be medicine.