Presidential Donor (19 page)

There was never a crash he hadn't solved, and he was damn sure going to solve this one if he hadn't already. Right now, though, he needed a drink.

And his feet were hurting again.

After he walked what felt like ten miles, Jack found the road that led to Eva's. A small farm sat at the bottom of an embankment where a pair of Holstein cows grazed on winter grass. He clambered down the embankment and along the fence line, avoiding the road. After a short distance he came to the pines that led to the cabin.

Jack had gone a couple hundred feet, when he glanced off to his left and noticed a car. Then, he thought he saw Eva's chalet just beyond that.
He didn't remember that car.
Had he miscalculated the distance? Then, there was the back of the ambulance sticking out from behind the house. He was right. But who were these two guys in the car, both behind dark sunglasses.

Jack felt his entire body flushing.
Shit, they're watching her house!

He took off in a sprint. He prayed they hadn't found Eva and were now waiting on him to return. His stamina draining away, he slowed to a jog until he saw the cabin with the flag and emblem on the door. He hesitated for a moment, looked around, then bolted for the door. He plastered himself against it and pounded so hard he thought his knuckles would fly off. "Eva, open up, it's Jack!"

Eva opened the door and Jack nearly knocked her over as stumbled in. The heavy door scraped shut and before he realized what had happened, he and Eva were embracing. Then kissing so passionately Jack could feel the snow melting off his hat. When he started to pull back, fearing he had jumped to conclusions, Eva pulled back, too. Only she was pulling
him
back, kissing him even harder.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't plan this."

Eva fixed her eyes on his. "Don't be. I needed that, and so did you."

"Well, my mother always said don't argue with the doctor."

"Smart mother," Eva said.

He loosened his hold on Eva. "I hate to ruin the moment, but I need a phone."

"My cell phone is dead. The closest one is at my place, but it's too risky to go back there."

"Not to mention the two, not so nice guys, watching it." Even so, I have to try. I need to know when Steve will arrive. Jonah should know by now.

Besides, he sent me back here to get you. The car ran out of gas, though, so this is probably the safest place for you right now. I promise I'll be back to get you. I hope when this is over we can--"

"We will," Eva said.

"I need to get to that phone. Jonah is probably wondering what happened."

Jack kissed Eva good-bye then looked out the door. He still had some daylight left, and although the darkness provided better cover, it brought with it an ominous cloak of terror that Jack dreaded. He hurried to the woods.

The whine of an engine behind him had Jack diving for cover behind a fallen pine. The blow drove the wind from Jack's lungs and he lay motionless and pressed his face close to the ground. The snow numbed his cheek as if he'd just finished an appointment with a Novocain-happy dentist. He lifted his head and peeked over the rotted log just as a snowmobile buzzed by. It stopped at a cabin about fifty-yards in front of him.

Jack felt a wave of relief.
Just a skier.

Everything seemed quieter now, almost peaceful. He stood and brushed the snow off. With his breath back and his half-frozen cheek starting to regain feeling, he headed toward Eva's, wondering if he'd ever see her again.

* * *

Coming down off the mountain, Ken Holland was disgusted. As he expected, his car had broken down, and now he had to ride in the Jeep with his assistant who wouldn't shut up. He pretended to listen as he tried to piece together the events of the day. From the mysterious arrival of Army helicopters to the government thug telling him to get the hell out. As he ratcheted the possibilities through his mind, something in front of him caught his attention. Up ahead on the steep, mountain road, a snowplow was bearing down on them. Holland thought perhaps the driver didn't see them. There was nothing unusual about snowplows in this area; they were a fixture of the landscape. This one, however, seemed to be coming directly at them.

And that was very strange.

His assistant slowed and glanced over at Holland. "What the fuc..."

"Go around him," Holland said.

Without warning, the huge plow lurched toward the Jeep. Before Holland's assistant could react, the massive plow blade sliced across the top of them, ripping the roof from its moorings. Both men were decapitated instantly. Out of control, the Jeep careened off the road and plummeted to the mountain gorge below.

* * *

The plow stopped and the driver climbed down and into a waiting car behind him.

Three hundred feet above the drama, hovering in an Army Chinook chopper, Denton Cogswell took in the scene through a pair of army-issue field glasses.

Covering all the bases
, he thought.

With the Holland problem quashed, he needed to get back to Brighton to meet with Ritter. The "pions were getting restless" was how Ritter had put it.

They demanded an update.

Cogswell now had an update for them. First, however, he had a detour to make. The call came from two agents outside Eva Smorzak's house. They had just spotted McDermott. Their orders were to do nothing; Cogswell was on his way to handle it,
personally.

He turned to his pilot. "Let's go. I have one more stop to make."

Ten minutes later, he directed the pilot to set down in a field next to a ski resort that bordered Smorzak's house. As the chopper descended, Cogswell could see skiers in their brightly colored outfits dotting the landscape. He thought of shooting a few of them to keep up his marksmanship skills. No need. He could test those soon enough. This thorn in his ass--this McDermott--was about to be sent on a permanent ski vacation. It wasn't anything personal. It was just... well, he was an obstacle.

Cogswell eliminated obstacles.

The phone rang as Howie Layton raked a hand through his thin, red hair.

He looked at the receiver and blew a ragged breath. The events of the afternoon had left him shaken, and he wondered if it might be Rod Serling on the line, welcoming him to his
"next stop."
Although Layton was an avid
Twilight Zone
fan, he was not enthusiastic about starring in his own episode.

After what had happened today, however, nothing would surprise him.

Reluctantly, he picked up the phone. "Flight dispatch."

"Howie, it's Frank, over at the tower. We just had a call from a secure phone aboard Air Force Two."

Layton bristled. "Air Force Two! What's next?"

"What's that?"

"Nothing. Just talking to myself. What does Air Force Two want?"

"Well for starters, they want a secure runway to land on with no other traffic. The pilot said he would radio back with further instructions."

"Who the hell do they think they are? This is Switzerland, not Washington."

"Well I just received a fax from the Swiss consulate that came through the administrator's office. It pretty much says to give them whatever they need."

Layton was quiet for a long moment. Then. "Shut down nine and divert any flights from nine to six. And get back to me as soon as you hear from them again. I don't want a circus out there when they land. We need to have a more specific itinerary from them."

Layton had about had it with government bureaucrats today. He couldn't help think this unexpected request had something to do with the mess Jonah was in. This conspiracy theory of his was beginning to seem more real by the minute, and though Layton would like to distance himself from it, he was up to his ears in it.

Cogswell stepped off the big Chinook and waited till it was well airborne before he made his move. The chopper would draw enough attention. The last thing he needed was to have McDermott spot him. When he got to the unmarked sedan, he dispatched the two agents back to Brighton and the makeshift command post. Before he let them leave, though, he went to the trunk.

He removed a long leather case then tapped on the fender to send them off.

They were only there for surveillance and not privy to his agenda. The house across the street looked quiet, so Cogswell walked over and knocked on the door. No one answered so he picked the lock and went in. He quickly secured himself a position in front of the picture window. From his vantage point behind the high-powered-rifle-scope, he could see a flea if it entered Eva Smorzak's house--night or day.

* * *

Jack McDermott stumbled and sidestepped his way up the last few yards of the hill behind Eva's place. Winded, but not gasping for breath, he paused for a moment to collect himself.
Not bad
, he thought.
Considering he had been in a coma just 48 hours earlier.
Crouching low he bounded up to the back steps. Eva told him the key would be under a ceramic pot in the corner.

He found it and ducked inside.

Going straight to the window, he leveled his gaze out to the street.
The unmarked sedan was gone.
He reached in his pocket to get the number of Layton's office. Jonah would be worried. He picked up the phone and felt as if his legs had suddenly liquefied.

The line was dead.

Frank Bahr was just waking up from a two-hour nap in the front seat of the government Ford when his cell phone rang. He wrangled it out of his coat and flipped it open. "Bahr here."

"Where are you?" Cogswell asked.

"Right where you told me to be." He lied.

"Get over here now. I found the son of a bitch."

"Where are you?"

"I'm at that Smorzak bitch's house. Right across the street. In a brown chalet. Park up the street and walk down. I'll open the back door for you. I'm in the front. I'm not taking my eyes off her house. Just come in when you get here. And for chrissake, don't let anyone see you."

"I'll be there," Bahr said. He hung up, and then checked the clip in his revolver.

* * *

Jack McDermott felt like a wild animal trapped in a cage.
Shit, they cut the phone lines! They know I'm here.
Jack's heart began to pound.
Think!
He went to the windows and yanked the blinds closed. Looking out the last window, he spotted it.

The ambulance.

He wondered if there was any way to make a break for it without being seen.
Impossible.
It was twenty yards away and out in the open like a bull's eye. If they didn't know he was here, they surely would if he went outside. If those two thugs were still around, he could just ram them with it. It was a long shot, but it was the only chance he had. The only problem was
keys
. He could only hope in his haste, Jonah had left them in the ignition.

Denton Cogswell felt empowered as he gripped his weapon and waited for Jack McDermott. It was payback time. He would not have an inkling of regret as he took away Lloyd's only chance to survive. He and Lloyd had no love left between them. After Ritter left the CIA to join the Lloyd ticket, Cogswell felt certain he would be the next director. He was appointed acting director by Ritter until after the elections. Then, Lloyd had a different idea about who he wanted to run the agency. Lloyd wanted a politician to head the agency.

Charles Wade, an old friend, and former college roommate of the newly elected Lloyd, was his first choice. Wade, a former governor, and now state senator, fit the bill to a tee. Wade accepted without hesitation. He was a yes man and a liberal, just like Lloyd. With that kind of director, Lloyd thought he could avoid all the static and deceit that had plagued the previous administration, although Ritter, now his own Vice President, had been part of that deceit.

Meanwhile, Cogswell was out of a job. Lloyd's vision of the CIA was one of trust and cooperation between the White House and Langley. It had little to do with covert operations that Lloyd saw as a waste of resources, now that the Cold War was over.

This infuriated Cogswell, whose reputation for violence, played well during that time. Now, it had no place in the "new agency," as Lloyd so aptly called it.

Jack McDermott would die.
Not because of any loyalty Cogswell had to Ritter; he had as much disdain for him as everyone else. Right now he needed Ritter. The idea of being Vice President appealed to him. Besides, who was to say that Ritter himself wouldn't meet with some unfortunate accident somewhere in the future, leaving Cogswell President?

Cogswell's megalomaniac thoughts stopped abruptly as Jack McDermott appeared in the picture window across the street. Feeling the familiar surge of warm adrenaline that accompanied the preparation for a kill, Cogswell peered through the scope and released the safety on the powerful .40 magnum rifle. McDermott went out of the sight for a moment and Cogswell cursed.

With calm, bred from countless executions, Cogswell wheeled in his emotions and waited. His target reappeared a moment later, and Cogswell refocused the scope.

Behind him, the sound of a door opening distracted him for a second.
It's just Bahr.
McDermott was clear in his scope. Cogswell's heart slowed and he relaxed. It was one of the only times he ever did relax. The thrill of the hunt and the final seconds before the end of it. McDermott now looked so close in the powerful scope; Cogswell could swear he was in the next room.

He let out an easy breath and counted,
"one, two, three."

Jack McDermott was still clear in the scope,
"four, five,"
as he squeezed the trigger.

The bullet crashed through the crown of his head and it exploded into a fine pink mist.

Frank Bahr looked on as Cogswell collapsed to the floor like a marionette whose strings were cut.
His rifle now covered with his own brains
. Bahr holstered his weapon and leaned against the arm of a chair.
He still had McDermott to deal with.