The Housewife Assassin's Hostage Hosting Tips (Housewife Assassin Series Book 9) (33 page)

Jack and Henry walk up. With his security card, Henry opens an empty luggage closet, which will be the captured terrorists’ home until the NSA can make it here to take them in for interrogation.

“That was a fast takedown,” I declare.

“It’s easy with this.” Dominic pulls a pen from his inside jacket pocket, which he then clicks open and shut. “Contains Propofol. One prick, and they’re out like a light.”

“Sounds like being on a date with you,” I mutter.

He raises his head, miffed. But before he has a chance to retort, Abu points out, “The bellman spoke English, but with a Persian accent.”

“Could you tell what tribe or region?” Jack asks.

Abu shrugs. “Sunni. Perhaps from Arbil.”

“He also had this walkie-talkie on him, which I guess is the terrorists’ way of getting around the cell phone jamming.” Jack tosses the communications device to Abu. “If someone calls him, fake it. You know, tell them everything is fine down here. We’ve got to buy some time.”

Arnie pokes his head out of Henry’s office. “The phone lines were pulled from underground, but Emma figured out where the cell phone block is coming from.” He points to a limousine parked in the hotel’s entry turnabout.

“Super! And she’s not even onsite,” I exclaim. “How did she do that?”

“She triangulated the coordinates based on where cell phone service was dead. From there, it was a matter of deduction.” He beams as he explains it. He’s always in awe of her, and it’s not just infatuation.

“I’ll take care of the damnable thing,” Dominic says. He picks up a car key fob from the terrorists’ booty and makes his way out the door and to the limousine. He finds what we’re looking for in the trunk and brings it in with him, handing it to Arnie.

Jack stops Arnie before he turns off the signal. “Once the jammer is deactivated, everyone’s cell gets activated, including those on the concierge level. There’s got to be something we can do so that they don’t know we’re in the clear.”

I snap my fingers. “I have an idea! Let’s move it to a spot directly over the concierge meeting room and recalculate its blocking coordinates so that its reach goes in only one direction–down–and blocks that portion of the concierge level.”

Jack breaks out into a smile. “Brilliant! Arnie and Dominic, come with us. Arnie, after you’ve set up the jammer, head back over to Henry’s office, so that you can keep watch on the concierge level security cameras–”

He stops talking when he sees someone coming our way: Aunt Phyllis, with Evan and Mary.

I run to them. “What’s wrong?” It dawns on me that Jeff isn’t with them. “Mary, where is your brother?”

She shakes her head. “He never made it to the parking lot. We’ve looked all over the ballroom and the hotel’s lower level, and we can’t find him.”

“Could he have hitched a ride with one of his friends?” I ask.

“I don’t think so,” says Evan. “When we got here, he was so excited to find Gabrielle that he left her corsage in your room. I saw him leave the ballroom before the fire alarm went off. I think he left to retrieve it.”

Noting my worried look, Arnie says, “I’ll check to see if there are any hot dots in your room.” He trots off.

I pace the floor until he comes back. He also looks worried.
 

“What is it?” I ask.
 

He looks down at his feet. “There are now nine hot dots in the concierge meeting room, and two hot dots standing near the concierge elevator. I rolled back the footage and noticed a hot dot in the fire escape stairwell. The security feed of the concierge floor confirms what I suspect. It shows him coming out of the stairwell. Tatyana let him onto the floor, and led him into the hostage room.”
 

I turn to Jack because I don’t want Mary to see the fear in my eyes.

“Phyllis, why don’t you take Mary and Evan home?” Jack suggests. I’m glad he’s able to keep his voice calm, almost nonchalant.

“No,” Mary says adamantly. “I want to stay here, in case…in case Jeff or Mom need me.”

Evan puts his hand on her shoulder. “I do too,” he says.

Phyllis puts her hand on his. “Three Musketeers.”

I swallow hard. “Okay, then, follow me. But once we’re there, you must stay put–no matter what happens.”

To Jack. To me.

To Jeff.

Arnie and Dominic join the Family Stone on the elevator ride to the penthouse suites.

Lee’s Secret Service man indicates that he is in his bedroom. The door is closed.

Walther is nervously pacing the floor. When we walk in, he looks up anxiously. Seeing us, he shrugs, but says nothing. I’m glad. If he proclaimed the suite off limits to my family, I’d break his nose.

For their safety, I place Mary, Evan, and Aunt Phyllis in the other bedroom with strict instructions: “Stay here. Lock this door. No unnecessary sounds! Talk in whispers. Unless it’s Jack, me, Jeff, or President Chiffray, don’t open it to anyone. There’s a bathroom and a mini-bar, so you should be fine.”

“And no television,” Jack warns them.

Aunt Phyllis looks over at him, puzzled. “Why not, in heaven’s name?”

Jack doesn’t break his direct gaze with her. “You have to trust us on this.”

She must because she doesn’t say another word. Mary and Evan exchange concerned glances.

We luck out that one of my penthouse’s bedrooms is exactly on top of the concierge meeting room. Arnie makes the necessary settings to the cell phone jammer to reduce and pinpoint the coverage. Afterward, he takes the elevator back to Henry’s office so that he can keep up his reconnaissance.

When Jack, Dominic, and I walk back through the concierge elevator platform, Lee’s Secret Service man says, "The president would like a word with you."

When we open Lee’s bedroom door, we are met with sad, sad eyes.

Lee is sitting on the edge of his bed. His face is drawn. His eyes are glazed. He takes both my hands in his. “Donna, please sit down.”

No…
 

Oh, no…

God, no.

Chapter 21

How to Get Rid of the Guest Who Won’t Leave

No matter how many broad hints are given, inevitably, one of your guests will overstay his or her welcome. Here’s how to lose the guest, but at the same time, keep the friendship:

Tip #1: Excuse yourself to put on your pajamas. Nothing says, “Get the hell out of my house” like a woman in a flannel granny gown. (In other words, save the black silk baby doll peignoir for another night.)

Tip #2: Glance at your watch. Often. Exclaiming, “My, my, it’s getting late” or “I have such an early morning” should also give the guest a clue that he has overstayed his welcome. (So will the command, “Sic ’em” to your dog, if it comes to that.)

Tip #3: Yawn in the guest’s face. Loudly, and often. This is an easy hint for your guest to take. If not, a quick blast of buckshot from your rifle will do the trick.

It’s on the television now.

The executioner is declaring President Chiffray “a coward! He would let a child die in his place!”

With a jerky motion, the camera swings over to a chair where Jeff sits. His hands are in his lap. His lower lip is trembling. His eyes are huge with anguish.

When he looks at the camera, he’s looking at me.

I see you, my baby. I’m here.

But the realization that I should be there makes my legs collapse from under me.
 

Lee drops with me and holds me until he’s sure I’m listening to him, until he’s sure my breathing is normal again, and then he murmurs, “Donna, I–”

“No, Lee! Don’t say it.” Slowly, I rise to my feet.

If he wants to tell me he can’t jeopardize the country, even if it means sacrificing Jeff, even if it means my hating him for the rest of my life, I don’t want to hear it, because, yes, I will hate him. I could never forgive him for doing his duty and putting the country above everything else, especially the life of my son.

If he wants to tell me that he is willing to offer himself as a substitute for Jeff, I can’t let him do it. After all, he is the president of the United States and the most powerful man in the free world. Jeff’s life would always be shadowed by Lee’s selfless act. He would always feel guilty about Lee’s brave sacrifice. He would do what he could to honor it, and die trying.

 
Or die in disgrace for never being able to live up to it. No one could.
 

And I would have Lee’s sacrifice on my conscience, too.
 

I let go of his hand. “We’ll figure something out.”

“Bingo,” Mara exclaims.

She’s standing beside a window and looking down.

Jack and I join her there. “What do you see?” I ask.

She grins. “Our way in.” She points downward.

The window directly below us is open.

Jack calls Arnie. “Look for three hot dots at a window in the president’s suite.”

After a pause, Arnie says, “Found it.”

“Ask Henry if the room below it is a guest room, and if so, whose it is.”
 

The pause is longer this time, but finally he comes back on the phone. “It was registered to the Chinese security minister.”

“Then, it’s empty,” I reason. Yes, there’s still hope.

“Ah, makes sense,” Dominic murmurs with a straight face. “Who wouldn’t want a breath of fresh Los Angeles air after leaving mainland China?”

Mara comes in with a handful of sheets that she pulled off the beds. “Nine-hundred-count hand spun sateen cotton. Top of the line and beautiful. Let’s hope these hold.”

No shit. We’re on the nineteenth story of a twenty-story building. Even with a slight breeze, clinging onto sheets to get out of one window and into another on the floor below won’t be easy. But at this point, I’ll do anything to save my son’s life.

Mara is chosen to climb down first. I’m to follow, then Jack, and finally Dominic.

Besides tying the sheets together with double knots, we’ve tied belts around the knots, so that they hold.

One end of the sheet rope is wrapped around Mara’s waist. The other is tied around the leg of a heavy antique table, which the men shove up against the wall next to the window.

With Jack’s help, Mara eases herself out of the window. She then takes the rope with both hands. We lower her down but we hold tight, as her counter-balance. The goal is to swing through the window immediately below, land as quietly as possible, secure the room, and help the rest of us climb down.

I wince as she slams into the side of the building. Soon, though, she finds the rhythm she needs as she scales down the wall.

When she’s level with the window, we give a little more slack as she kicks off one more time for the added momentum needed to go through the window.

To our relief, she disappears into the room.

The sheet rope goes slack. We won’t pull it up until we get the high-sign from her.

I hold my breath until she reappears. Her thumbs-up is accompanied by a smile.

We pull the rope up. It’s my turn.

I follow the same procedure. I tie it around my waist–not at the end of the sheet, but leaving a tail that Mara can grab ahold of, in order to pull me into the room.