But Blunt had other plans.
He went into his room and came out about fifteen minutes later.
“Is it me or is it hot in here?” Blunt asked as he trudged down the hall. “Can we turn the heat off?”
The agent turned around and glared at Blunt. “It’s only thirty-six degrees outside. Are you insane?”
“Maybe I’m just having hot flashes.”
“Are you going through menopause, too?”
“Watch it,” Blunt said. “Forget it. I’ll just crack my window.”
“You do that, Senator,” the agent said as he turned back around and refocused on the television.
Idiot.
Blunt strung together a couple of the bed sheets and tied one end off at the headboard post. He flung the rest of the sheets outside. With his cane in his mouth, he eased his way onto the ground. After shoving the sheets back inside, Blunt started for the road. He considered calling a car with Uber but decided that would be a fast way to get recaptured. If he could reach Young somehow, Blunt figured the president could help him at least wait out the pending legal matter until it was resolved. Anything but being holed up in an FBI safe house.
Blunt had almost reached the road when he heard one of the agents call after him.
“You’re not going to get very far, Senator,” the agent said.
“Then you’re going to have shoot me,” Blunt said as he continued walking toward the road.
The agent hustled across the yard toward Blunt, who picked up his pace. Just as the agent reached Blunt, he spun around and delivered a vicious blow with his cane that knocked the man off his feet. Blunt didn’t stop to revel in his direct hit, instead turning forward and continuing on.
The agent scrambled to his feet as another agent rushed outside to help his partner.
“This isn’t going to end well,” the agent said.
Blunt threw his hand up in the air dismissively and kept walking.
“Okay, it’s your choice,” the agent said.
As he neared Blunt, the statesman whirled around with his cane only to have it met by a firm hand.
“I wasn’t born that long ago, but it wasn’t yesterday,” the agent said as he tightened his grip on Blunt’s cane and snatched it from his hand. “Now, come with us.”
The two agents led Blunt back into the house and ushered him onto the couch.
“Stay there while I call my supervisor,” one of the agents said as he slipped into the hallway.
After a conversation conducted in hushed tone, the agent returned to the room.
“I have good news for you, Senator. Justin Frazier is on his way over here and is going to speak with you about everything that’s going on.”
Blunt glared at the men. “Can I go to my room?”
The agents both looked at each other and chuckled. “I think you’ve lost that privilege for now. I’ll also be setting the alarm just in case you become hot again and get any ideas about opening your window.”
* * *
BLUNT WAS STILL SEATED on the couch with arms crossed when Justin Frazier entered the safe house. He lugged a small briefcase with him, hoisting it onto the kitchen table before saying a word. Flipping the latches with his thumbs, Frazier opened the case and pulled out a host of file folders, stacking them with precision.
“Well, J.D., you certainly know how to get what you want,” Frazier said.
Blunt grunted. “If that were the case, we wouldn’t be here talking right now.”
“I mean, you want to know what’s going on and the real reason behind why you’re here, so I’m going to tell you—sort of.”
“Sort of? What the hell kind of explanation is that going to be?”
“Come over here, and I’ll tell you.”
Blunt stood and lumbered over to the kitchen seat, pulling out a chair directly across from Frazier. The two men sat down, and Frazier took the first portfolio off the top and sifted through several papers.
“How long is this going to take?” Blunt asked.
“I can’t let you see all this, but I’m—”
“Why the hell not? I’ve probably got a higher security clearance than you do.”
“I’m going to let you see a few documents, though some of the names have been redacted. Given your current ties to the White House, I thought it was best not to divulge everything. Eventually it’ll all make sense, but in the meantime, I’ll share what I can, which should clear up the muddy waters for you.”
“If it can get me out of this dump of a safe house any faster, I’ll be all ears.”
Frazier held up his hands. “Look, this isn’t some prerequisite for your release. This is a courtesy to you.”
“You just want to keep me from trying to run off again, don’t you? You think placating me will keep me more content.”
Frazier shrugged. “I’m hoping so, though your last get away attempt didn’t get you too far. It’s just that I have a lot of respect for you and what you’ve done, both professionally and as your friend. I don’t want to leave you in the dark.”
“Fine. I’ll listen—and stay put . . . for now.”
“Okay, here’s what’s happening in a nut shell. The NSA teamed up with the FBI on a high-profile case to capture a high-ranking official in Peterson’s campaign who is working with foreign terrorists.”
“What? James Peterson? Mr. Anti-Terrorism Man?”
“The one and only,” Frazier said. “And now perhaps you see the problem we have. The FBI didn’t want to see this investigation publicized for fear of being unable to capture the suspect in the act. But even more so, the FBI didn’t want to take heat for politicizing an investigation. They learned from the last time.”
“Seems smart, but I don’t understand why I’m being supposedly arrested. My good name and reputation is at stake.”
“We’ll clear all of that up after this is over. I think the American people will be understanding—even though what you did was still wrong. The truth is we
