don’t think coming home has ever felt as good as it does tonight. At this moment. At this time. And in this very place.”
Another wild cheer went up from the audience.
“-And I can’t think of a better group of people to be in front of than all of you.”
The cheers got louder.
Starling smiled broadly, and the power of that famous smile seemed blinding in the glare of the spotlight. Lights danced and glowed about the back of his head, giving off a visible halo effect.
Ryan couldn’t help but think that the effect was an omen. A sign of what was to come.
He pushed through the crowd in front of him, weaving in and out of the people, trying to find Tess. Mrs. Starling had told her to sit with them up on the dais, but Ryan hadn’t seen her anywhere in the row of people sitting behind the long table draped with red, white and blue banners.
Starling held out his arms as if to embrace the crowd and a light breeze drifted across the terrace. “How is everyone this fine evening?”
The audience erupted into a joyful chorus of responses. Their shouts were positive and playful, and Starling’s image on the screens grinned wildly, his charming and handsome appeal engaging.
Ryan could almost understand the ultraright’s fear of the man. He would be unstoppable. Unbeatable. A greyhound running effortlessly for the ultimate prize-the total support and dedication of the American people.
Starling launched into a speech about the past three years. He talked of his frustration, his disillusionment with the current administration’s policies and his disappointment at not being able to make a difference.
Around Ryan, the crowd quieted, listening to their vice president’s tale of woe. Their murmurs of agreement spoke of their sympathy for their crown prince’s predicament.
Ryan knew the vice president was positioning himself for his announcement. And from the sizzle of excitement electrifying the room, the crowd knew the big moment was coming, too. Tension, thick and heavy, hung over the terrace. If the announcement wasn’t made soon, the room would implode all on its own.
Ryan pushed his way through a tight group of people. Few people were sitting at tables. Most stood, craning to see the figure standing on the dais.
Ahead of him, near the front of the room, the group shifted and parted for a brief second. Ryan caught a flash of red and a glimpse of white-blond hair.
Tess!
But before he could move, the crowd shifted again and the red vanished. He slipped between a cluster of people ignoring their sharp glances of disapproval and murmured comments of annoyance. He pressed on.
He reached the spot a few seconds later, but there was no sign of her. The ball of anxiety in the pit of his stomach tightened. He needed to find her. Now.
Above him, Starling had swung into a rousing speech of no one being left behind. Of all citizens having a place at the table as they moved comfortably into the new millennium.
He searched the crowd and found Flynn, standing off to the side of the room. His posture was relaxed. Confident. But then he spied Ryan and he stiffened. He turned and gestured curtly to two men standing beside him. The two men’s attention immediately focused on Ryan.
They started across the floor toward him, but they were as hampered by the unruly audience as he was. The crowd had whipped itself into a frenzy. People were yelling and stomping their feet. More than a few shrill whistles ripped through the air.
The noise on the terrace had reached a crescendo, almost crushing in its intensity. The sound pounded against Ryan’s eardrums, sending his blood rushing like wildfire through his veins.
In front of him, a man shouted something and then stepped back. In the space of that single second, he saw Tess again.
She stood about thirty yards from him, a sea of bodies separating them. She didn’t see him. Her head was tilted back to watch Starling and the video screens. She was close enough to the dais that the glow from the spotlight bathed her face in its warm glow. Her beauty was breathtaking.
But it was who stood behind her that sent panic through Ryan.
Towering over her, his body pressed close to hers, stood Ian McCaffrey. His hand lay on Tess’s shoulder, his tanned fingers standing out in stark contrast to the ivory whiteness of her skin.
He leaned forward to press his mouth to the curve of her ear. Ryan felt his stomach tighten with dread.
Tess’s stare was fixed and vacant. She seemed to have no reaction to McCaffrey’s whispering. But as Ryan watched, she opened her clutch purse and stuck her hand inside.
Icy shards of fear raced through Ryan’s veins. Oh God, he needed to get to her. Needed to stop her before she was forced to do something she’d regret for the rest of her life. Something that would surely destroy her.
She withdrew her hand from her purse, and the glow from the light glittered on something metallic in her hands. Ryan knew what she held-a gun.
She lifted the weapon with two hands and the crowd around her pressed in, oblivious to what was happening. The roar of voices built, the clapping and stomping of feet became unbearable.
Starling’s own voice, amplified by the microphone, was barely audible above the yelling. The crowd had gone wild with excitement.
Ryan stood on tiptoes and cupped his hands. “Tess!”
She froze, the gun dropping to her side, hidden in the folds of her dress.
Across the floor, McCaffrey raised his eyes to met Ryan’s. Anger flashed within the depth of his eyes like summer lightning gone berserk. His message was clear. Interference from Ryan would not be tolerated.
He spoke urgently in Tess’s ear, and Ryan somehow knew that McCaffrey was using a word or key phrase to trigger something in Tess, to force her to respond to his commands. The roar of the crowd got louder, pressing in on them. Ryan struggled, pawing his way through the sea of bodies, trying to get to her.
Tess’s gaze roved over the crowd as if searching for him. Her eyes were confused. Dazed. But they were no longer vacant.
She was fighting, trying to get out from beneath the conditioning of the seductive pull.
He could only hope that his yelling to her had triggered something. Some memory. Some feeling. Something to interrupt the flow of evil feed into her brain.
McCaffrey straightened, seeming to realize that he’d lost his command over her. She was ignoring him, distracted by the crowd. He reached inside his own jacket and pulled out his own weapon.
Fear chewed at Ryan’s stomach. His time was almost up. He had to reach her. If McCaffrey shot the vice president, Tess would go down with him. The Secret Service would be all over the two of them in a matter of seconds, and if McCaffrey was as suicidal in his approach as Ryan figured him to be, there would be no survivors. Tess would die in the same hail of bullets as McCaffrey.
He plowed through the crowd, pushing and shoving people aside. Angry shouts and taunts surrounded him, but he ignored them.
Tess turned and saw him.
Relief ripped through him, almost paralyzing him with its intensity. He could tell that something about his appearance had broken through to her.
She either remembered something or remembered him. He didn’t know which and he didn’t care. All that mattered was she had reacted. Somehow he needed to get to her, to pull her away to safety.
He was almost there, an arm’s length away when the sound of a gunshot exploded in the warm evening air.
The crowd went silent for a second, moving restlessly, unsure what they’d heard. Ryan tried again to push his way through, but the bodies were packed in too tight.
From somewhere up front, a woman screamed, “A gun! She’s got a gun!”
Another shot crackled over the heads of the crowd and they went berserk. Everyone tried to turn and run for the patio doors at once.
Ryan found himself pushed backward with the swell of the crowd. He lost his footing and lost sight of Tess. An overweight woman elbowed him in the chin and stampeded around him. Ryan ducked under the arm of a couple attempting to run arm in arm.
Over the heads of the crowd, Ryan saw Starling drop below the top of the podium. Whether he was shot or simply getting out of the line of fire was unknown.
