remember that your role is that of a private consultant. The FBI runs the show.'
'We understand, Mr. President.'
'They've been very cooperative,' Michelle added, without a trace of the sneer she was undoubtedly feeling coming on.
'Good. Have you made any progress?'
Sean shot a quick glance at Jane Cox. Her features were imperturbable yet somehow Sean was able to read them still. 'It's early yet, sir, but we're working as hard and as fast as we can. It seems like they got a bit of a break with this package. Hopefully, as you said, that will lead to something else. Those things often do. The bad guys communicate and they let something slip.'
'All right.' Cox stood and so did Sean and Michelle.
'I'll talk to you later, honey,' said the president.
Moments later he was gone, with no doubt his silent guards once more bracketing him.
Outside the White House the few square feet around the president demanded maximum protection, and some agents, using a football analogy, referred to it as the 'red zone,' meaning that this was where the defense could never allow a score. That meant layers of perimeter walls rolling outward like the multiple skins of an onion. To get to the next depth, the intruder had to wipe out the layer above. The red zone was the last wall before you ran smack into the leader of the free world's flesh and bone. It consisted of top agents who'd been excruciatingly vetted to get to this level, positioned hip and flank in the form of a diamond. A hard diamond. And every single one of those agents would automatically fight to the death and take a lethal round for the man, without question. That was the one layer that could never be breached, because it was the last one.
Yet even in the White House, the Service was always within a foot of the man save for one place: the First Family's private quarters. In the field of presidential protection, you could never assume that you always knew where your enemies were, or whether your friends were really friends.
A few minutes later, Sean and Michelle were in the tunnel heading back to the Treasury, a Marine in full dress uniform leading the way.
'I've always wanted to meet the president,' Michelle said to Sean.
'He's an impressive guy. But…'
Michelle's voice sank to a whisper. 'But you'll always see him in that car in the alley with that woman?'
He grimaced but didn't answer her.
'Why didn't you ask Jane about the two C-sections and three kids?'
'Because my gut told me not to. And right now my gut is scaring me to death.'
CHAPTER 20
SEAN YAWNED, sat back, finished off his coffee, and rose to get some more while Michelle stared intently at the computer screen. They were at her apartment near Fairfax Corner. While outside cars and patrons streamed through the popular upscale shopping area, the two of them had been sequestered in Michelle's cluttered home office staring at digital liquid on her Mac. Sean returned and handed her a fresh cup of coffee. It had taken a long time to sift through Tuck Dutton's computer files. But some interesting information had been gained by the effort.
The man had been scheduled to come home the morning following the kidnapping attempt. Cassandra Mallory's cell phone had been listed in his contacts. Sean had called it. A woman had answered and then he'd hung up. Her address was also in Tuck's records.
'We might have to pay the woman a visit,' Michelle said.
'If she's still around.'
'You think she was in on it?'
'Hard to say. I have no doubt they had something going on. You don't use a coworker's name as your computer password. But whether she knew about this, or whether Tuck was actually involved…' He shrugged.
She gave him a confused look. 'I didn't think Tuck's involvement was an open question. If he wasn't involved it was a helluva coincidence, don't you think?'
'But we did a quick look at his financial account. There's no movement of cash out that isn't accounted for. So, what, they did this for free?'
'Maybe he has another account somewhere. The guy's in government contracting. You telling me folks like that don't have slush funds all over the place?'
'But if he decided to be at the house it apparently was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I checked with the airline. The reservation change was made at the last possible second.'
'Like we discussed before, he might have thought about it and decided it was better cover to be there than not.'
Sean looked out the window. 'I feel like we're spinning our wheels. Maybe the trace under Pam's fingernails will get a hit on a database somewhere.'
Michelle said excitedly, 'Wait a minute, what if the ransom is the payment? That way Tuck doesn't have to cough up a dime and there's no money trail for the FBI to follow.'
'So these guys do all this on the come? You know the kidnapping business sucks. The payoff is always problematic. Even with electronic transfers, there's always some trail to follow. You get your money and then the FBI knocks down your door.' Sean drew a breath. 'And we still have no idea why they took blood from Pam Dutton.'
'So how do we play this with Tuck?'
'Question him some more, but don't tip our hand.'
'His buddy Hilal might do that for us. Meaning tip off Tuck.'
'Don't think so. His primary concern is not to let this contract blow up. And he doesn't want to fall in this mess with Tuck if he is guilty. I think he'll keep his distance.'
'So if Pam wasn't Willa's birth mother who could it be?'
'It might not matter.'
'But you said earlier that you thought Willa was the adopted one. So I thought you meant it was tied into this somehow.'
'Willa is twelve. If it is tied to her it's taken somebody a long time to come around to it.'
'Do you remember them ever talking about Willa being adopted?'
'Never. I just assumed all three kids were theirs.'
'Okay, how about Jane Cox?'
'What about her?'
'She knows about our suspicions. What if she tips off her brother?'
Before Sean could answer, Michelle's phone rang.
'Hello?'
'Oh, hey, Bill. I… what?' Michelle paled. 'Oh my God. When? How?'
Michelle didn't say anything for about a minute, but her breath kept coming in accelerating bursts as she listened. 'Okay, okay. I'll catch the next flight out.' She clicked off.
'Michelle, what is it?'
'My mom's dead.'
CHAPTER 21
THE STURDY WHEELS of the Cessna bumped against the compacted dirt with the grass topper, slowed, and came to a stop. Sam Quarry taxied down the makeshift runway, worked the foot pedals, and expertly spun the plane around. He climbed out and slung a knapsack over his shoulder. After blocking the plane's wheels, he unlocked the outer door of the old mine. He walked down the tunnel, his path illuminated by his flashlight and the
