F Paul Wilson - Novel 04 (26 page)

“I think we can cover
that,” Decker said. He turned to Tom. “But it will involve you
admitting yourself to Bethesda Naval Hospital. Your office will say
you’re in for a check-up but the people behind this will read that as a
sign that you’re ill.”

Tom pressed his fingertips together
and leaned back, musing. “Well, Bethesda’s got the presidential
suite… I can conduct business from there for a few days… Not a good
time for this… not a good time at all…” He glanced up and his
eyes met John’s. “But that’s what we’ll do.”

John felt his throat constrict.
“Thanks, Tom. You don’t know what this—”

“It’s Katie. And she’s
been kidnapped and hurt because of our friendship. That makes me part of this.
Don’t you worry. We’ll get her back.” John leaned back and
closed his eyes. He wanted to believe that. He had to believe that.

Bob Decker saw Dr. Vanduyne out to
the elevator, then headed back to the Oval Office.

He had to admit he was pumped up.
That had been one goddamn close call in the Oval Office. A catastrophe had been
averted, but the Service could take no credit for it. Yet if Vanduyne had let
Razor swallow those pills, even though he was Razor’s best friend, the
Service would have taken all the heat. A no-win situation all around.

But that was past. Razor was safe,
the conspiracy had been exposed, now came the fun part: tracking down these
sons of bitches.

Maybe not that much fun. The leak
bothered the hell out of him. Directly beneath the Oval Office lay W-16, the
Secret Service command post. Was the mole among the select one hundred agents
on the White House detail who worked out of there? Decker hated to think so,
but he had to consider the possibility. Had to be very careful who he brought
in on this.

But the first step had been taken.
He’d sent Vanduyne home to e-mail the kidnappers that he’d dosed
the President with whatever it was that was supposed to kill him—Decker
still didn’t understand that part—and then he was to return with
hard copies of all the e-mail he’d received from the kidnappers…
plus his daughter’s toe and whatever packaging had come with it. Who
knew? Maybe they’d get lucky and find a fingerprint or something else to
help narrow the search.

He stepped back through the door
into the Oval Office.

Razor was standing at the windows,
gazing out at the morning. He turned as Decker closed the door behind him.

“I want this settled quickly.
Bob.” His eyes were blazing. “I want these bastards. I want them to
resist arrest, and I want the shit kicked out of them. I want them hurt real
bad, real bad before they’re brought in.” Decker had never seen
Razor this angry; he realized it was the emotions speaking and figured the best
course was simply to agree.

“Yes, sir.”

“But I can’t emphasize
quickly enough. I want that little girl returned before The Hague
conference.”

“We’ll do our best, but
without a full mobilization—”

Razor nodded. “I understand.
You’ve got one hand tied behind your back. But what’s your plan?
Who are you bringing in?”

“Well, I figure I can limit
the second tier to one each from FBI and DEA. Get them up to speed on
everything except the fact that you didn’t swallow the pills.”

“Why DEA?”

“Because of the drug
connection. We’ll need some backgrounding on the possible players behind
this. I may want to tap into the CIA too—”

“Good God, why?”

“This anonymous remailer in
the UK. If we can locate the guy who’s running it, we may be able to backtrack
from his computer to this Snake character.”

“All right. But keep them in
the dark as much as possible. What about the tier-two people? Got anybody in
mind?”

“Yes, sir. Gerry Canney over
at the Bureau. He helped break the Duncan Lathram case, if you remember.”

Razor allowed a chagrined smile.
“How can I forget?”

“He just got moved up to a
supervisory position. He’s as straight and sharp as they come. Knows how
to keep his mouth shut too.”

“Perfect. Who from
DEA?”

“I’ve got a few
possibilities there. I was thinking of Dan Keane. He’s with the
Washington office.”

“I know him. Good man.”

“Right. I’ve known him
for years and can’t think of anybody who knows more about the drug trade
and hates the dealers as much as Dan.”

“All right. Canney and Keane.
Get them. I want to meet with them personally. I want to make it very clear
that even though kidnapping is FBI business and drug dealers are DEA, you are
in charge. I don’t want any interagency turf war here. I want them to
hear it straight from me before I head for Bethesda.”

Decker had to admire Razor’s
grasp of all the practical problems facing his mini task force. He remembered
the infighting between Justice and Treasury back in 1994 when someone took a
few pot shots at the White House.

The jockeying for control between
the Secret Service, FBI, and ATF had been embarrassing. But with the chief
laying out the chain of command at the outset. Decker was sure the operation
would run smoothly.

“When are you going
in?”

“This afternoon, right after
I meet with your team.” He lowered his voice. “Get this done, Bob.
Get it done by Tuesday. Because no matter what, that’s when I’m
leaving for The Hague for the international drug conference.”

Decker swallowed. He felt as if
he’d been punched.

“Three days, sir?
That’s not much time. Can’t we—?”

“It’s all I can give
you. I love John. He’s the best friend I’ll ever have. And I love
his daughter like my own. Hell, I’m her godfather. But I’m also the
guy who occupies this office. As President I can’t be influenced by
terror and blackmail, and I sure as hell won’t allow some slimy drug lord
to dictate U.S. government policy. I’m leaving for The Hague Tuesday, and
I want to step on Air Force One knowing that Katie Vanduyne is back with her
father. Am I making myself clear. Bob?”

“Perfectly, sir.”

“Then let’s get
moving.”

Bob Decker’s intestines began
to wind themselves into slow knots as he left the Oval Office and hurried down
to W-16.

Tuesday! How the hell was he going
to get this done in three days?

“I’ve been talking
practicalities, but let me get philosophical for a moment. Can we all agree
that you own your own body? That seems to me to be the cornerstone of all human
rights. If we can agree on that, then where does another person get the right
to dictate what substances—food, liquids, whatever—you are allowed
to put into your body? This is a completely personal decision on your part. And
if one person has no right to so dictate, then neither do two… or ten or
a hundred or a million or a hundred million. It’s still your body. I
think taking drugs is very stupid, but I also think it is a human right.”

Paulie turned down the radio
volume. Had he just heard the kid giggling in the living room?

He leaned his chair back and edged
his head past the jamb of the kitchen door for a peek. Some kind of weird scene
in there, what with Poppy in a Minnie Mouse mask and the kid with a fake
bandage on her foot, and the two of them playing Chutes and Ladders on the
couch.

Paulie had retreated to the kitchen
to get out of that damn Mickey Mouse mask he had to wear in front of the kid.
Probably wasn’t all that necessary, seeing as the kid had already seen
him as the limo driver, and he still wore the beard that would come off as soon
as this was over, but why risk her getting a better look at him than absolutely
necessary?

Poppy glanced up and saw him.
“Wanna play?” He couldn’t see her face through the Minnie
mask, but something told him she was smiling.

“Nah. Not unless you switch
to poker.”

“Hey, we might,” she
said. “We just might do that. We’ll let you know.”

He grinned and shook his head.
Standing up to Mac yesterday had broken the ice between them. They were back to
being a team again, and that felt good.

He watched them for a little while
longer. Poppy was a different person when she was with that kid. Softer,
bouncier, happier than she ever was with him. So what am I? he thought.
Jealous? Maybe. He wasn’t exactly crazy about the idea of sharing Poppy
with anyone, even for a week. But how could he be jealous of a little kid?

Besides, it was one of those girl
things, the way two gals who just met somehow start sharing all these secrets
about things one guy would never tell another even if he knew him for a million
years.

But this looked like more than
that. This seemed to go pretty deep. Well, whatever it was, it would be over in
a week or so when the kid went back to her folks.

And suddenly Paulie had a bad
feeling about what that scene might be like.

He waved his arm in the doorway and
gave a low whistle.

When Poppy looked up, he said,
“Can I see you a minute?”

Poppy nodded behind her mask, then
turned to the kid. “I’ll be right back. You stay here… and
don’t move any of those pieces.”

The kid giggled. “I
won’t.”

Poppy stepped into the kitchen and
dropped into the seat across the table from him. She pulled off her mask and
wiped her face. Her cheeks were flushed with heat.

“Hot in there, ain’t
it,” Paulie said.

She nodded and smiled.
“It’s worth it. What’d you want to see me about?”

Paulie hesitated, not exactly sure
how to say this. “It’s about you and the kid.”

“She’s got a name, you
know. You can call her Katie.”

“I don’t want to call
her Katie. I don’t want to know anything about her.”

“Why not? She’s a sweet
kid.”

“I’m sure she is,
Poppy. And you’re getting too close to her.”

“What do you mean, too
close?”

Uh-oh. He could see her back
getting up.

“I mean—”

“Look, Paulie, she’s a
scared little girl. This has gotta be like the worst thing that’s ever
happened to her. I’m trying to make it as pleasant as possible for her
while she’s here. What’s wrong with that?”

“You’re getting
attached.”

“So?”

“Too attached. Like
you’re her mother or something.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t
think she has a mother.”

“That may be, but you
can’t start thinking you can be her mother. You’re gonna have to
say good-bye next week, or the week after at the latest.”

She leaned back and her gaze
shifted down toward the table top. “I know.”

“And if you keep on like
this, you’re gonna be hurting. Bad.”

“I’ll be okay.”

Paulie didn’t believe that
for a minute. He had visions of Poppy crying and hanging onto the kid and not
wanting to let her go, not wanting to leave her alone at the drop-off point.
The snatch itself was far and away the diciest part of these gigs, but
returning the package wasn’t far behind. The last thing you needed was
someone going all mushy and emotional at a critical moment. And on top of all
that, he didn’t want to see Poppy all torn up when this was over.

“I ain’t so sure about
that.” He reached across and touched her hand. “I’m seeing
someone with a broken heart when it comes time to wave bye-bye.”

She looked up and smiled.

“I’ll be all right. I
just don’t want to see her scared, that’s all.” She stood and
came around the table. She sat on his lap and kissed him on the mouth.
“That’s for worrying about me.” Then she adjusted her Minnie
Mouse mask and returned to the living room.

Paulie watched her sit down with
the kid and get back to their game. He had a sudden nightmare vision of Poppy doing
something crazy after this was over, like finding out where the kid lives and
driving by to get a look at her—“just to see how she’s
doing… make sure she’s all right…” Paulie shuddered at
the thought. That was death-wish behavior.

And on the subject of death wishes,
what if Mac walked in now? What if he popped through the door and saw his
“package” unwrapped and playing a board game in the living room?
He’d hit the ceiling.

And if he ever found out the kid
still had ten toes? Forget about it.

Paulie had stood his ground
yesterday, but he wondered how he’d do if Mac went berserk. Which was
just what he’d do if he knew the chances they’d took to get some
other kid’s toe to use as the persuader.

If he ever does find out, Paulie
thought uneasily, let’s just hope it’s long after this gig is over
and done with.

Snake glanced around the lobby of
the Sheraton.

No one around with a line of sight
to his laptop. He reread Vanduyne’s latest e-mail.

It’s done. Two capsules of
chloramphenicol (250mg each) administered at 10 this morning. I’ve done
my part. When do I get Katie back?

Administered, ay? How professional
sounding.

And:
When do I get Katie back
? Never, dude.

But he couldn’t tell Vanduyne
that. Mac checked around again, still nobody near, so he pulled up his
prewritten reply and made a few changes, but all in all, he’d been pretty
much on the mark as to what he’d have to say.

We’ve
been over this before, but I guess you weren’t listening. So here it is
again. How soon you get your kid back depends on how sick your buddy gets. The
sicker, the better. If he’s back on his feet in a couple of days,
you’ll have to do something else. In no case will your kid be released in
less than two weeks.

Let me
lay this out for you so there’s no misunderstanding: We want this guy out
of office. If we can’t get that, we want him sick for a long time. If
that doesn’t work out, at the very least we want him to miss the drug
summit.