The Housewife Assassin's Ghost Protocol (11 page)

“What are our marching orders?” Jack asks.

Ryan points to Dominic. “I need you to fly immediately to Biarritz to confiscate Salem’s remains for analysis. I also want you to pick up Pinky Ring’s trail from when he shot Jean-Pierre.” He then turns to me. “Donna will go undercover within DARPA, as the public information officer assigned to the project. In that capacity, you’ll have access to the scientists. Emma, Arnie as always, you’re on ComInt and tech, respectively.”
 

The Locklears nod.
 

“What about POTUS?” Jack asks.

“He’s all yours,” Ryan replies.

Jack smiles at the thought.

“Wait…on second thought, let’s, er, leave him in Donna’s capable hands. Jack, you’ll provide backup on all three ops.”
 

Despite Jack’s scowl, Ryan dismisses us with a nod. “Remember, time is of the essence.”

“I guess the upside of a trip to DC is that we can tour Morgan Adams University with Evan.” I say this in order to break Jack’s silence on the car trip home.

“Yeah, wow, great idea. Having Evan along will give me something to do while you’re entertaining Lee.”
 

I stifle the urge to flinch at Jack’s sarcasm. Instead, I shake my head. “What do you mean? Of course, you’re going with me to see Lee.”

“Ryan made it clear that he thinks you’re perfectly capable of finding out what we need without any help from me.”

“If that’s the case, since I’m in charge of how I work the operation, I insist that you be there too.”

He glances over at me. “Don’t throw me a bone, Donna.”

“Quit sulking. It’s a turn-off.”

The next thing I know, he’s pulled over to the side of the road.

We are on the 405, arguably the least romantic road in all of California—

Unless the man you love puts his hand on your thigh—

And melts your heart with his searing gaze—

Before locking your lips in a heart pounding kiss.

Perfect. I have him right where I want him: in my arms.

He waits until we resume oxygen intake, then mutters, “Who did you say is sulking?”

“Certainly not you,” I purr. “Good then, it’s settled.”

He laughs. “Oh, yeah? What’s settled?”

“Your role in the investigation I’ll be heading up: that of the compromised DARPA white paper that was in POTUS’s possession.”

Damn it, his frown is back. “And what, exactly, is my role again?”

“Hopefully, you’ll be losing at golf to Lee on the Blue Course of the Congressional Country Club while I trace the route the white paper took in getting into—and for that matter, out of—the Oval Office.”

“In other words, I’m the decoy—not you?”

I nod. “Yes—but only because your golf handicap is much better than mine.”

“The last thing Lee wants to do is spend four hours on a golf course with me.”

“You’re wrong about that. Lee would agree to a foursome with Francisco Franco, Attila the Hun, and Joseph Mengele if it got him out of the White House on a beautiful Sunday afternoon.”

Jack starts the car up again. As he pulls into the slow lane, he murmurs, “Nice to know you think so highly of me.”

“I also think highly of Evan. And guess what? He’ll be part of your golf foursome, along with Connelly McIver, the dean of Morgan Adams University—that is, after he and Evan have their photo op with the president in the Oval Office. If the game these colleges play is ‘who do you know,’ Evan’s connection to POTUS should go a long way to erasing his mother’s misdeeds.”

“Do you really think Lee will agree to this?”

“I’d say he owes the kid that much, and more. The only reason he now lives in the White House is because Catherine Martin took Carl’s advice to make Lee her vice president. At the same time, it made Evan an orphan.”

“Do you think Lee is just going to let you hang in his private office, twiddling your thumbs?”

“Oh, he’ll soon realize that I’ll be doing much more than that—say, clearing his name—and Babette’s too, if he’s lucky.”

The latter would be wishful thinking on Lee’s part. The First Lady of the United States is always high on my list of suspects. Not only does she have unlimited access to the Oval Office, her path to power crisscrosses the rise of the Quorum much too often to be coincidental.

Lee realizes this too. Still, he’s bound and determined to protect her. Not just because of her connections with known terrorists—my first husband, Carl; her first husband, Jonah Breck; and Salem al-Sadah—would lead to the biggest scandal ever to rock the U.S. Presidency, but because she’s pregnant.

He knows it’s not his child.
 

Lee is living proof that love truly is blind.

“So you’re going against Ryan’s mandate and breaking the news to Lee that his compromised copy makes him a key suspect?”

“Frankly, it’s the only way to clear the First Couple of any wrongdoing. The fact that he doesn’t yet know it gives me an advantage. If he says no to my request to full access to everything and everyone who can shed light on what happened in the hours leading up to, and during, the Operation Hercules briefing, he’ll look that much more guilty.” I shrug. “For that matter, I’ll need access to Babette too. So enjoy your golf game while I dig through this mess. If I’m lucky, I’ll have what I need before Monday, so that I can join you and Evan when he’s scheduled to tour the Adams Morgan campus.”

“Not to bring up a sore subject, but as you know, Mary is dying to go along with us on these college tours,” Jack reminds me.
 

I frown. “I know, but not this one to DC and Boston. There’s too much at stake with this mission. We’ll take her along to Stanford and Berkeley.”

“That may not appease her,” he warns.

“It’ll have to do. Frankly, separating those two for a couple of days will do them both some good. Sharing their grief from traumatic events isn’t the best reason to start—or for that matter, stay in a relationship.”

“Oh, no?” Jack eyes me with disbelief. “What, are you crazy? It worked for us.”
 

“Really? Is that what you think—that we were drawn together in a quest to make right the atrocities Carl committed in the name of the Quorum?” I open my eyes wide in mock disbelief. “Gee, I guess it’s time to put that assumption to bed once and for all.” I crook my finger, beckoning him forward. When his ear is close enough, I whisper, “It’s the
cuddling
.”

Jack thinks for a moment, then muses, “Maybe Mary feels the same way about Evan.”

His smart-ass remark earns him a hard punch in the arm.

Jack is laughing so hard that he almost swerves into a big rig.
 

As the truck’s driver lays on his horn, Jack hits the accelerator. In less time than it takes to say “cuddle” Jack’s BMW i8 has us forty feet beyond that rig.

Note to self: put a security camera in the playhouse.

Chapter 6

Paranormal Activity

Serious ghost hunters have specific tools to determine if paranormal activity is in the area. Should you suspect a ghost lives with you, a ghost hunter will show up with:

1: Audio equipment with microphones that are sensitive enough to pick up ectoplasm readings. Why? Because ghosts’ comments—known in this business as “electronic voice phenomena,” or EVP—often cannot be picked up by the human ear.
 

2: Electo-Magnetic Frequency readers, because you cannot see EMFs with the naked eye. Popular devices include the KII meter, and the Ovilus X. (Which begs the question: were there previous versions of the labeled Ovilus I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII and IX? If so, how accurate were they?).

3: The hunters will also bring ion detectors, infrared cameras, and Geiger counters.

Ironically, despite the pings, tings, and whirrs made by all these gadgets, none have yet provided empirical evidence that our dearly departed are still here among us in some alternate dimension.

In other words, there is no real way to know if the ghost hunter you’ve contacted is legitimate, or if he’s pulling your very real leg.

And still, we want to believe. Go figure.

The hall outside the Oval Office’s reception area swarms with busy people doing important things that will result in historic consequence.

When Jack and I enter with Evan, Dean Connelly McIver is already there.
 

The men are dressed in khakis and golf shirts under blazers. Their golf gear and shoes were already taken off their hands by the president’s Secret Service detail. Besides being put through a security scanner, it will be stowed in the caravan that will take POTUS and his guests to the Congressional Country Club.

I’m dressed a bit more formally. Jack and I have to break the news to Lee about the sources of the compromised DARPA white papers, and to ask his permission to review the security video footage of those who were in the Project Hercules meeting.
 

Dean McIver doesn’t rise from the oval-backed chair, but stays seated until Lee’s new secretary, a sweet looking woman in her twenties, comes over and introduces herself as Eve Pettival. “The president looks forward to getting out on the links, but first things first—the photo shoot.” Her arm goes out toward McIver. “Please, let me introduce you.”

It’s the first time Jack and I are meeting McIver, but I guess it’s more accurate to say that Evan and he are to be
reintroduced
, since both of Evan’s parents, Catherine and Robert, took Evan to every alumni event they attended at the university. This includes the one announcing the biotechnology scholarships funded by Robert, not to mention the well-publicized naming ceremony for the Robert Martin technology lab, built on Morgan Adams’s campus with Robert’s money.

After a tepid shake of our hands, McIver turns to Evan. Despite a heartier handshake accompanied with the robust declaration, “Ah, there’s our boy!” there is a chill in the dean’s voice.
 

Thank goodness Lee’s welcome is much warmer to the poor kid.

Strolling purposefully out of his office, Lee reaches to shake Jack’s hand, and then pecks me on the cheek. Evan, though, gets a warm hug. “Hey, Evan, long time no see,” the president murmurs.

“You should make it out to California more often, Mr. President,” Evan ribs him.

A smile lights up Lee’s face. “Speaking of which, we’ll be home later this week for a few days. Janie will be going through orientation at her prep school. I look forward to having you over to Lion’s Lair for a round of golf there as well.”

At this point, Eve introduces Lee to Dean McIver, who has been watching the exchange agog. Odd, since a man in his position at a major private university knows all too well that politics makes for strange bedfellows.
 

Then again, putting the name of the benefactor who just gave you yet another one-hundred-million-dollar gift for a previously named building obviously took some rolling around in the sheets too. Just this morning, Adams Morgan University announced that its new technology building will herein be called “the Lionel Broderick Technology Lab,” effectively erasing any and all evidence of the Martin family’s gift.

I haven’t yet broken that news to Evan.

I may break McIver’s arm instead.