the living room.
Out in the courtyard, Marjan and Pamir’s men loaded the equipment into the back of the Land Cruiser and covered it over with a couple of blankets.
Sliding his cell phone back into his pocket, Rashid walked over to the truck and gave Flower a new set of directions, which would allow them to avoid the most recently positioned mobile checkpoints.
After pulling into the road, Gallagher looked over his shoulder. As he watched the gates to the NDS safe house close behind them, he asked, “So what do you think?”
In the darkness of the backseat, Harvath remained silent. Rashid had turned out to be better than he had expected, and Marjan and Pamir looked poised to pick up where the police inspector’s expertise had left off, but in all honesty, Harvath knew they were still a long way from where they needed to be.
Their preoperational planning had been tossed out the window when Mustafa Khan had been moved from Policharki. They were starting from scratch now and Harvath didn’t like that. Nevertheless, they were moving forward. He only hoped that they were moving fast enough.
CHAPTER 20
EAST HAMPTON, NEW YORK
Elise Campbell stepped off her train and onto the East Hampton platform. The evening air was chilly and damp.
The Secret Service agent had caught a high-speed Acela Express from Washington to Penn Station and from there the Long Island Railroad via Jamaica Station out to the easternmost town on the South Shore of Long Island. Standing beneath the portico was Detective Rita Klees.
“Whatever you do,” said Rita as she greeted Elise with a hug and took her bag, “please tell me you didn’t eat any train food.”
“Rita, I’ve been on trains and in stations for over seven hours. So sue me, I broke down and had a sandwich.”
Klees made a face. “I refuse to eat that garbage they serve.” Nodding toward her car she said, “C’mon. We’ll get you a real dinner. And a drink.”
The detective threw Campbell’s overnight bag into the cargo area of her Mini Cooper and then slid into the driver’s seat. After starting the car, she picked up a pack of cigarettes and asked, “Do you mind?”
The car already smelled like an ashtray. “Go ahead,” said Campbell as she rolled down her window.
They chatted about Elise’s trip up from D.C. as Rita drove to a small restaurant called Thackers and parked her car. She grabbed her briefcase from the backseat and the two women made their way inside.
It was obvious by the attention Klees received from the hostess, as well as the piano player segueing out of the song he had been playing and launching into the Sinatra classic that closed every Yankee game, “New York, New York,” that she was a bit of a regular.
Rita waved and said hello to other patrons she knew as they were shown to a quiet leather booth in the corner. When the hostess presented the menus, Klees declined and asked Elise, “You’re a meat eater, right? Do you like short ribs?”
“I love short ribs,” replied Campbell.
“These are the best you’ll ever have,” she said and then looked back at the hostess. “Two orders of the short ribs, then, and I’ll have a Johnnie Green on the rocks.”
Elise ordered a glass of red wine and the hostess disappeared. Reaching into her briefcase, Rita removed a thick folder and set it on the table.
“Is that it?” asked Campbell.
Klees nodded.
Elise had spent the trip up from D.C. trying to figure out what to say to her friend. She knew she couldn’t lie to her, which left her with only one option-the truth. But how much of the truth should she reveal? “I need your word that none of what I’m about to tell you will go any further.”
“If we’re talking about a crime being committed-” began Klees, who stopped when a waiter appeared with their drinks.
Once he had gone, Elise said, “I don’t know for sure if a crime has been committed. That’s why I’m here. But, if I’m wrong and there’s nothing to this, then my career’s over.”
“So this has to do with the president?”
Campbell nodded.
“Can I assume he’s the one you were referring to when you said maybe somebody wasn’t completely truthful in their witness statement?”
Again, Campbell nodded.
“Okay. Did he have something to do with the accident?”
Elise looked at her friend. “I hope not.”
“Then where’s all of this coming from?”
“I may have overheard a conversation.”
Rita stirred the ice cubes in her drink. “Now I understand.”
“This puts me and the Secret Service in a very difficult position,” said Campbell. “If he didn’t do anything wrong and it gets out that I told people about the conversation, then the entire Secret Service not only looks bad, presidents will forever distance themselves from us, which will make it even harder to protect them.”
“But if he did do something, then he’s an idiot to have mentioned it in front of you.”
“He didn’t exactly know I was there.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I was standing guard in a wooded area. He couldn’t see me. He stopped within earshot and I heard his conversation.”
“Who was he talking with?”
“Do I have your word that this will stay just between us?” asked Elise.
Rita nodded.
“He was talking with Stephanie Gallo.”
“That’s who was having the fund-raiser for him here.”
“I know,” said Campbell.
“That’s also whose house he was staying at.”
“I know.”
“It’s also where Nikki Hale had been before she left and had her accident.”
Campbell reached for her wine and took a long sip.
“Were Gallo and the president having this conversation in person or was he on the phone?” asked Klees as she glanced around the room to make sure no one was eavesdropping on their conversation.
“They were together, taking a walk on her horse farm just outside D.C.”
“What exactly did they say?”
Elise filled Rita in on the kidnapping of Julia Gallo, the ransom demand, and Stephanie Gallo’s threat to expose the president’s involvement in the death of Nikki Hale unless the president got her daughter back. When she was finished, she lifted her wineglass, sat back, and tried to dissolve into the booth.
“I’m stunned,” said Klees.
“You and me both.”
“He doesn’t seem like that type of guy.”
“I know,” replied Campbell.
“So what exactly are the specifics of his involvement or this alleged cover-up around Nikki Hale’s death?”
“That, I don’t know. He and Gallo walked off before I could hear the rest of the conversation.”
“Then you do have a problem. A big one.”
“But if he wasn’t really guilty, why would Gallo threaten to expose him and ruin his presidency?”
