there and didn't want to make the move up here and didn't want to work out of her home. I think there were covenants in her condo building docs that precluded that. Plus, Jacksonville is a big defense area and we might want to go after other work down there. So it made sense to have a footprint.'
Sean sat back in his chair. 'What did you really think when you'd heard about what happened to his family?' he asked. 'Truthfully.'
Hilal let out a long sigh. 'It's no secret that he and Pam weren't the closest couple in the world. He had this business and she kept the home fires burning with the kids. But murdering his wife and kidnapping his own daughter? Tuck's no saint, but I can't see him doing something like that.'
'Do you think Pam suspected something was going on?'
'I honestly don't know. I didn't have that much interaction with her.'
'If he wanted out of the marriage there're easier ways to do it,' Michelle pointed out.
'Right. Why didn't he just divorce her?' asked Sean.
Hilal tapped his fingertips against the desk. 'That might've been problematic.'
'Problematic how?'
'I said that we hired Cassandra about six months ago. Before that she'd been working for the Department of Homeland Security in their contracts department. That's the same agency we're trying to win the contract from. That's what I meant when I said she had great contacts.'
'So if Tuck tried to divorce Pam then maybe the affair would become public?'
'In the world of government contracting the Feds don't like even the appearance of a conflict of interest. If the prime contractor we're subbing found out about an affair with a former employee of DHS, it would be a big problem. Maybe not enough to kill the relationship under normal circumstances, but this isn't a normal circumstance.'
'What do you mean?' asked Sean.
'Tuck is the president's brother-in-law. Everyone is already edgy about an appearance of preferential treatment because of that. And the government might even think there was hanky-panky going on between the two before she left the agency and maybe they'd start checking past contracts awarded to us. It gets complicated real quickly. It's tough enough as it is to win these types of bid competitions. The other side will exploit any gaffe.'
'You realize that you've just built up a very plausible scenario for Tuck to have orchestrated this whole thing,' Sean said.
'I still can't believe he would've done something like that to his family.'
Sean gave Michelle a subtle look that she still immediately translated.
She said, 'We've got some more questions, Mr. Hilal. But do you have any coffee around here? You could probably use a cup too.'
Hilal rose. 'I sure could.' He looked at Sean. 'Would you like one?'
'No, but if you can just point me to the men's room.'
Hilal led them down the hall and directed Sean to the restroom while he and Michelle headed to the lunchroom.
Instead of hitting the john, Sean doubled back and slipped inside the office two doors down from Hilal's and which they had passed on the way in. This was Tuck Dutton's turf, helpfully indicated by his name being stenciled on the door.
The space was large but cluttered and clearly showed a person juggling many things at once. Sean didn't waste time but went right to the computer on the desk. He pulled a small USB thumb drive from his pocket. Loaded on it was a unique program used by law enforcement to extract forensic evidence from computers without turning off the machine and seizing it. Sean had managed to snag one from a buddy of his at the FBI.
He inserted it into the slot on the keyboard, performed some mouse clicks, and the program from the thumb drive uploaded onto the screen. There was password protection on Tuck's database, of course. The software on the USB had password override programs that would take some time, so Sean decided to opt for a shortcut. He went through several attempts before it hit him.
He typed in the name 'Cassandra.' Nothing. Then he tried 'Cassandra1.'
The digital gates parted and with a few commands from Sean the software started dumping select parts of Tuck Dutton's hard drive onto the thumb drive.
CHAPTER 19
AS THE YOUNG Secret Service agent carried the mail up from the box, his attention flickered to the package. There was no return address and the writing on the shipping label was done in block script. He relayed this information to his superiors and within thirty minutes a bomb squad truck lumbered down the street.
The explosives experts worked their magic and fortunately the neighborhood did not disappear in a nuclear fireball. Still, the contents were rather unusual.
A small bowl with the remains of hardened cereal and milk at the bottom.
A spoon with the same crusty residue.
And a sealed envelope containing a typed letter.
After the techs concluded there were no fingerprints or other useful traces on the box, envelope, or letter, the agents turned their attention to the contents of the letter.
Check the fingerprints on the bowl and spoon. You will find they belong to Willa Dutton. We have her. She is safe. We will contact you soon.
The box had been mailed to Pam Dutton's sister's house in Bethesda where John and Colleen Dutton were staying under Secret Service protection.
When the prints were run and compared with a set taken from Willa's bedroom there was a clear match.
They immediately contacted the Postal Service in an attempt to track from where the package had come. The matter was given the highest priority. However, the closest they could narrow the target to was Dalton, a town in northern Georgia. At least that's where the package had been processed.
Later that afternoon Sean and Michelle were contacted and told to come to the Treasury Department, which was located on the east side of the White House and had a statue of Alexander Hamilton out front. They were escorted down into the underground belly of the massive building where they entered a long tunnel that ran due west and connected with the White House next door. Sean had been down here before while pulling White House protection duty; however, it was a first for Michelle. As they passed by closed doorways along the long corridor, he whispered to her, 'The stories I could tell about what went on in some of these rooms.'
'I see London, I see France,' Michelle murmured back.
The First Lady received them in her office in the East Wing. She had on black slacks, a pale blue sweater, and her black pumps lay underneath her desk. She looked far more tired than the last time they'd seen her.
Sean was surprised to see Aaron Betack hovering in the background. No, cowering was more like it, Sean assessed. The man didn't look like he wanted to be there. Yet what the First Lady wanted, she usually got.
'These are the times I regret giving up smoking,' Jane said as she motioned them into chairs across from her.
'Weren't you just on the campaign trail in Connecticut?' Sean asked.
She nodded absently. 'I flew back early after they told me about the box. I asked Agent Betack to be here so he could answer any questions you might have on behalf of the Service.'
Sean and Michelle both looked at Betack, who didn't appear remotely interested in telling them even what time it was. Yet he nodded and attempted a smile that came out as though he had really bad gas.
Jane said, 'I have heard that the FBI has been somewhat less than cooperative with you. I trust that has been taken care of and that you have met with no resistance from any other agency?'
There was only one other agency really involved and it was represented by the big man standing behind her, his face reddening slightly with her words.
Sean said quickly, 'Everyone's been very cooperative. Particularly the Secret Service. It's been a stressful time for everyone, but they've been there for us the whole way.'
'Excellent,' said Jane.
Betack stared at Sean for a long moment and then gave a slight nod, silently thanking Sean for the cover he'd
