The Value of Valor

Katherine Kyle is the press secretary to the president of the United States. Her lover, Jamison Parker, is a respected writer for Time magazine. Separated by unthinkable tragedy, the two must struggle to survive against impossible odds… A powerful, shadowy organization wants to advance its own global agenda. To succeed, the president must be eliminated. Only one person knows the truth and can put a stop to the scheme. It will take every ounce of courage and strength Kate possesses to stay alive long enough to expose the plot. Meanwhile, Jay must cheat death and race across continents to be by her lover's side…

PROLOGUE

The woman under the crisp, white sheet showed no sign of movement. Her face was swollen—covered with lacerations and abrasions. Dried blood from a nasty cut on her scalp stood out in bold contrast to her flaxen-colored hair.

As the healer finished rinsing away the worst of the sticky substance, she wondered how the woman had survived at all. Gently, she lifted the sheet, revealing a dark bruise that covered the dislocated left shoulder and a portion of the woman’s chest. Satisfied that the arm was properly braced, she rechecked the tension on the large white wrap that secured three broken ribs.

“I’ll do what I can for you, young one.”

“I see she still hasn’t woken.” A powerfully built, older Native American stood in the doorway, his imposing shape blocking out the sun.

The healer quickly replaced the sheet. “No. I’d need to do a CAT scan to confirm it, but I believe there’s still some swelling in her brain. It’s much better, but still…”

“It’s been two days. We should take her to the hospital.”

“No. It’s too dangerous for her.”

“Having her here may be too dangerous for us.”

“Must you think only of yourself? This woman was deliberately run off the road. Someone wants her dead. Someone is already dead.”

“Why should we interfere?”

“Because it’s the code we live by. We must revere life, not jeopardize it.”

“You and your traditional ways.”

“These are the teachings we follow. If you must be more practical, consider that those men who caused her accident, whoever they were, believe she’s dead. There won’t be any reprisal.”

“Then there’s no reason we can’t take her to the hospital.”

“A hospital will mean questions. Questions will lead to attention.

Attention might bring those men back to finish the job. No, she’s much safer here.”

“Bah. You’re not in a position to decide anything, Terri.”

“Not by myself, no. That’s for the entire Council of Elders. We’ve called a meeting for this afternoon. We’ll listen to the boys’ account of what happened and make a ruling.”

“Tommy, tell us what you saw.” A wizened, graying older man, his face lined with years of hard work in the sun, beckoned to a young man in his early twenties to step into the center of a circle of elders sitting cross-legged on the dirt. The meeting, as all meetings of the council were, was conducted in Navajo. It was a way to carry on the language and reinforce a sense of continuity among the people.

Tommy licked his lips nervously. “We—four of us—were working on the cliffside near Chinle. We were harvesting materials for the sand paintings.

“It was very quiet; we could hear the call of the hawks overhead.

There hadn’t been any traffic on the road above for hours. Suddenly, I heard—we all did—the squealing of brakes and the sound of crunching metal. It was like thunder.” Tommy looked to his friends for support.

“Go on.”

“We looked up, but there was nothing we could do. The car plowed right through the guardrail and sailed into the air. It was like something out of a movie.

“It landed on the edge of a ledge not far away from where we were—its back end was hanging out into space. Jeff, Jason, Kenny, and me barely managed to reach the driver’s door in time. When we wrenched it open, this woman was pinned against the door. We pulled her out of the car—she was hurt bad. Her eyes were closed, and she was bleeding.”

Tommy hesitated.

“Go on.”

“We tried to get the other woman out, too. She’d slid over on the bench so she was practically sitting in the driver’s seat. Must not have been wearing a seatbelt.” He shook his head. “She looked worse than the woman we saved— there was a piece of metal sticking out of her chest.”

“From the guardrail?”

Tommy shuddered. “Yeah. Her eyes were open and she was staring.”

“What happened next, Tommy?”

“It was like slow motion. The car tumbled end over end and landed on its roof on top of the next plateau. It must have been a hundred feet down. The fireball was hot enough that I felt it from where we were.”

“What made you think it wasn’t an accident?”

The Value of Valor

“As we were lying there trying to catch our breath, I saw two men drive by, then turn around and come back. They got out of their car, looked over the side of the cliff, and seemed pleased when they saw the wrecked car down there.”

“They didn’t see you or the woman you were able to save?”

“No, where we were was shielded from view by an overhang.”

“How close were the men to you?”

“I don’t know exactly. Maybe ten feet away.”

“You saw their faces?”

“Yes. One of them had a scar on his right cheek.”

“All right. What happened next? Did they say anything?”

“They were laughing. One of them clapped the other on the back and made a joke about earning easy money.

“We were scared. We waited for the men to leave. When we were sure they were gone, Jason went back to the truck and drove it back here to get help. The rest of us stayed with the woman.”

“Did she ever regain consciousness?”

“No. Like I said—she was in really bad shape. We were afraid she was dead, too.”

“Okay, Tommy.” The tribal leader looked to the other young men.

“Do you have anything to add?”

There was a chorus of “No, sirs.”

“Very well.” The leader turned to the others gathered in his circle. “I think it’s too dangerous to take this woman to a hospital. The intent of these men was clear—she wouldn’t be safe.”

“We don’t even know who she is. She didn’t have any identification on her. If we keep her here, we may be inviting danger.”

“I disagree, James. Those men have no reason to believe there were any witnesses to their crime or that one of their victims lived. We are completely safe. Are there any other voices wishing to be heard?”

The question was greeted by silence.

“Very well then, the woman shall remain in our care until she’s well enough to travel. Terri Lightfoot, you will continue to see to her needs. I suggest we conduct a chantway to dispel any evil and attract good.”

“I’ll organize one to begin this evening,” Terri answered.

“Good. Whatever can be done for her shall be. Council dismissed.”

The wind blew the door to the clinic closed behind the healer as she made her way back to the figure in the bed.

At the sound of the slamming door, the patient’s eyes fluttered open.

“Easy. Easy, my child.”

“W-where am I?”

“You’re safe now. What’s your name?”

Lynn Ames

“M-my name?”

“Yes.”

Green eyes the color of a lush forest tried to focus. “I-I don’t know.”

The eyelids slid closed once again.

“Don’t worry for now, my child. Just rest.” Terri Lightfoot stroked the blonde hair that peeked out from the bandages. She fingered the diamond-encrusted wedding band she had removed from the woman’s swollen left ring finger and kept in her pocket for safekeeping. “You’ll know when the time is right.”

The Value of Valor

CHAPTER ONE

ingers played across her breasts, tantalizing, exciting. The heat of F her lover’s breath seared her sensitive skin.

“Jay.” It escaped her lips as a prayer, which morphed into a mournful wail as she came awake.

Katherine Kyle bolted upright, the sweat-soaked sheet pooling around her naked waist, moonlight peeking in through the blinds of her suburban Washington, D.C., condominium. The numerals on the digital bedside clock mocked her: 2:36 a.m.

“Jay,” she whispered. “What am I supposed to do without you?” The tears came again, stinging her already swollen eyes. She welcomed them.

Alarmed by the sounds of distress, Kate’s faithful golden retriever laid his chin on the bed and whimpered.

“I’m sorry, Fred. I know you miss her, too.”

The soulful look in his eyes reflected her mood perfectly. Sliding off the bed, Kate threw on a T-shirt she had discarded earlier, lay down on the dog bed, and hugged her companion.

“It’s just you and me now, buddy.” She choked on the words, huddled closer, and rested her head on his soft fur, hoping his warmth would penetrate her bones and take away the chill that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in her very soul since she’d gotten the fateful call three days earlier. Kate closed her eyes against the memory.

“White House. Press Secretary Kyle speaking.”

“Ms. Kyle? Ms. Katherine Kyle?”

“Yes.”

“This is Officer Brandan Oakley of the Arizona Highway Patrol.

There’s been an accident involving a rental car in Canyon De Chellynear Chinle, Arizona.”

Kate let go of Fred and covered her ears, trying to shut out the words.

“You are listed on the rental car application as primary contact for aMs. Jamison Parker.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry to inform you, Ms. Kyle, but there don’t appear to be anysurvivors.”

“No surviv…that can’t be…we…I…she...”

Lynn Ames

“I’m afraid Ms. Parker is dead.”

“No,” Kate screamed, scaring Fred. “No,” she sobbed, as she hugged him close again. She imagined she could still smell the passion and feel the warmth of the sheets where Jay and she had made love the morning before the accident. She curled into the fetal position, Fred laying his head on her side.

“Kate, it’s President Hyland. I heard. I’m so sorry. Jay was awonderful woman and we’ll all feel her loss. I’ve personally asked theFBI to investigate, and I’ve had arrangements made for you to fly outthere immediately. Don’t worry about anything here, we’ll hold down thefort.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Kate said aloud as she absentmindedly ran her thumb over the dog’s left front paw. Fred licked the back of her hand sympathetically. “I want her back. I just want her back.” She rocked back and forth, trying in vain to comfort herself.

“Ma’am, you can’t go beyond the yellow tape.”

“Jay!”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to stay here.”

“No. I have to get to her. Jay!”

“Ma’am,” he said, more gently this time, “there’s nothing left.”

Nothing left. The words reverberated in her head. She tightened her grip on Fred, wondering if truer words had ever been spoken.

The FBI agent sitting in Kate’s living room looked uncomfortable.

He’d been assigned the unenviable task of liaising with the press secretary to the president of the United States in the matter of the death of her beloved partner. “Ms. Kyle, you saw the evidence yourself. There was no mistake. The forensics matched. The license plate they found corresponded with the car Ms. Parker rented when she arrived at the airport.” He slid across a copy of the rental agreement, signed and dated by Jay three days earlier: January 21, 1989. In the appropriate box in the upper right-hand corner of the form, the license plate number was typed in. It matched the mangled one shown in the Polaroid sitting on the coffee table.

“You were there—you saw the condition of the vehicle.”

Kate fought to control her emotions, but the rage and helplessness were too close to the surface.

“You found absolutely no conclusive evidence that the body was Jay’s, though, did you? No. You can’t prove that she was in the car when it crashed, can you? What if she wasn’t? What if…”

“Ms. Kyle, I’m so sorry for your loss. We searched everywhere around the vicinity. The explosion obliterated most of the evidence we The Value of Valor

might have found. We did come up with some teeth, a femur, and bone fragments from the skull, all clustered on the driver’s side of the car.”

Kate felt her head swim, and her body swayed as if she would keel over. She fought to steady herself.

“Technically, you’re right,” he went on, “we can’t rule with absolute certainty that the body was Ms. Parker’s. However, the pathology tests indicate that the bones belonged to a Caucasian woman about Ms.

Parker’s size. Unfortunately, we are unable to make a more positive ID

than that due to the condition of the specimens.”

Kate felt the bile rise in her throat at the thought of Jay being hurled into space and burnt beyond recognition.

She apparently didn’t hear him call her name the first time, so he tried again. “Ms. Kyle?”

“Yes?”

“To the best of your knowledge, was anyone else in the car with Ms.

Parker?”

“No,” she murmured.

“Ms. Kyle,” he said softly, “no one could have survived that impact—no one.”

“I can’t give up on her. I just can’t. Doesn’t the FBI have new technology that can identify a person from her DNA?”

“Yes, ma’am, but as I said, there simply wasn’t enough material to work with; the heat of the fire destroyed the bone marrow from which we would have drawn samples. I’m so sorry.”

Desperate to hold herself together, Kate thanked the agent for coming to the house to give her the latest update on the investigation into Jay’s accident and dismissed him.

“She’ll always be alive in your heart.”

Kate looked up from where she still sat on the couch to see Dr.

Barbara Jones standing in the doorway. Her tears began anew.

Barbara was Kate’s physician and one of her closest friends. Theirs was a relationship formed out of mutual respect, love, and admiration.

Barbara had seen Kate through some tough situations, patching her up physically and supporting her emotionally. “Kate, you did everything you could.”

“No. Don’t you understand? I left her there. I gave up on her.”

“That’s not true, honey.” Barbara switched to a different tack. “What more could you have done?”

Kate began pacing manically. Her voice trembled. “I could have stayed. I could have searched myself.”

“Kate, you got to the site within hours of the first report of the accident. You stayed there for two days while state police and FBI agents Lynn Ames

combed the area. You watched while forensic experts reconstructed the path of the car and assessed the speed of impact. You saw them collect whatever evidence there was to find.”

“What if she’s out there somewhere, Barbara? Hurt, alone, and frightened.” She could barely get the words out.

“Oh, Kate.” She enveloped the grieving woman in a hug, knowing from her vast experience with comforting the inconsolable, that there was nothing more to say. Only time could heal this kind of wound.

“Hi.”

The two women looked up as a tall man in his late thirties crossed the threshold to Kate’s living room.

“Hi, Peter.”

Peter Enright was Kate’s best friend and confidant. An expert in technology, weapons, and security, he was the older brother Kate never had.

“The FBI guy just left.”

“I know, I saw him on the way out. He looks like he went ten rounds with Muhammad Ali. What’d you do to him, Kate?”

She sighed, moving away from Barbara to stare blankly out the window. “I’m sorry about that. I guess I just want different answers than he can give me.”

“Ah, so you browbeat him. I get it now. He’s just doing his job.”

Peter moved to Kate and put a comforting hand on her arm to lessen the impact of his words. “He can’t change the outcome or bring Jay back.”

“I know.”

Kate was plainly beyond exhaustion, with deep circles etched under her normally vibrant blue eyes. Her hair, usually a glossy black, was dull and unruly. Her skin was unnaturally pale, and she was gaunt.

“Why don’t you go lie down for a little while? Barbara and I will fix some coffee and breakfast. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“No.”

Barbara stepped in. “As your doctor, Katherine, I order you to get some rest.” When Kate looked as if she would snap at her, Barbara softened her tone. “As your friend, I’m really worried about you. It won’t do anyone any good if you get sick. Please?”

“I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see Jay.” A single tear slid down Kate’s face. “I can’t close my eyes anymore. It’s too painful.”

“Kate, you have to sleep. Here, take this.” Barbara handed Kate a pill.

“What is it?”

“Just something to help you sleep—soundly—for a couple of hours.”

“You know I hate to take anything.”

“Doctor’s orders. If Jay were here, she’d be giving you holy hell for not taking care of yourself and you know it. Please, Kate.”

The Value of Valor

She sighed, knowing she was beaten. “You’ll wake me if there’s anything?”

“Of course,” Peter promised.

When she was sure Kate was out of earshot, Barbara turned to Peter.

“Do you really believe it was an accident?”

“Not for a second.”

“You have proof?”

He sighed in exasperation. “No. There doesn’t appear to be anything to go on.”

“But?”

“My gut is screaming. Jay’s car mysteriously flies off a cliff two days after a jury convicts two scumbags of kidnapping Kate and using the cover of a prison riot to try to have her killed? Seems like too much of a coincidence to me. I smell a rat.”

“What’re you going to do about it?”

“I’m going to visit an old friend.”

“Oh? Who would that be?”

“Derek LaPointe, deputy director of the FBI.”

Barbara whistled softly. “It’s nice to have friends in high places.”

“We’ll see about that. Derek and I served together in Vietnam. I saved his bacon once. I’m hoping he can put some pressure in the right places to get the fibbies to keep looking. So far, all I’ve gotten from them is that there’s ‘insufficient evidence to proceed with a murder investigation.’”

As they made their way into the kitchen, Barbara stopped Peter with a hand on his arm. “I know I shouldn’t ask this, but…”

“Do I think there’s any chance Jay might be alive, right?”

Barbara nodded. “Because they can’t say positively that the tooth and bone fragments belong to Jay, Kate seems convinced that she could be out there alive somewhere.”

“My best judgment is that it’s a remote possibility but highly unlikely. It would’ve taken a miracle to survive the crash. Not only that, but the pathology reports show the bones are consistent with someone Jay’s size.”

“I figured. What are we going to do about our Kate? You know she’s not going to give up easily.”

“Would you, if you were in her place and it was your lover?”

“No, I sure wouldn’t.”

“Right.” Peter raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to give her false hope when the probabilities and evidence say otherwise.” He held up his hand to forestall the anticipated interruption. “Which is not to say I’m not going to look into the possibility that Jay’s alive while I’m Lynn Ames

searching for answers about the crash. You know I won’t give up as long as Kate believes there’s any chance she’s out there somewhere.”

“I’m afraid Kate won’t let it rest without absolute proof of Jay’s death.”

“I’m not sure we can get that for her.”

“I know. That’s what worries me.”

“Where have you been? I’ve been trying to track you down for days,”

Michael Vendetti, the high-strung deputy press secretary to the president, hissed.

“Take your hands off me, you idiot.” Robert Hawthorne, a former four-term U.S. senator and current chairman of the Democratic National Committee, was clearly livid. “What’re you doing here?”

“Parker’s dead.”

“I know.”

“Did you do that—have her killed?”

“Of course not, you fool. Parker was Breathwaite’s obsession.”

“Then—”

The chairman fixed Vendetti with an incredulous stare. “Please tell me you’re not naïve enough to think that could have been an accident.”

“No,” Vendetti replied defensively, “of course not.”

“Thank God,” Hawthorne muttered under his breath.

“Jesus, Breathwaite did that from prison?”

“Apparently. Revenge suits him.” Hawthorne waited a beat. “Let me ask you something, Michael. Why would I want to take a chance on a meaningless hit like that at this point? We’ve got what we want—

Charlie’s in the White House.”

“I know that’s not all you wanted out of this. How could it be?

What’s ‘Part B?’”

“Part B, Michael? Really. I said all along what I wanted was to make Charlie president. I succeeded. What more could I want?”

Vendetti shrugged. He’d been asking himself that very question ever since Hawthorne had approached him in New York with his scheme two years earlier. He still had no plausible answer. Hawthorne said he wanted them all to gain power and status by taking over the White House with Governor Charles Hyland as the unwitting front man. Since the former senator had failed in his own bid to become president, getting Vendetti’s boss elected seemed the only way for Hawthorne to regain a position of influence. Still it felt like he’d wanted more than that—Michael just couldn’t figure out what the “more” was.

It was plain to him what the rest of the members of the group had wanted: David Breathwaite, one-time spokesman for the New York state prison system, had been exiled to a meaningless backroom position—he The Value of Valor

had wanted his old job back. William Redfield, executive deputy commissioner of the prison system, had wanted to be commissioner.

Michael, the governor’s press secretary, had coveted the big chair—

spokesperson for the president of the United States. But Hawthorne…

“I don’t know, Mr. Chairman, but I know you’re up to something.”

His temper obviously close to the boiling point, Hawthorne growled,

“Be careful, Michael. Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”

Taken aback by Hawthorne’s tone, Vendetti changed directions. “I was supposed to be the president’s press secretary. That was part of the deal.” Bitterly, he added, “Now that ‘Amazonian bitch,’ as you call her, is sitting where I should be.”

“Ah, ah, ah…careful, Michael. If you keep talking like that, people might wonder if you weren’t the one to bump off Ms. Kyle’s lover.

Overcome with grief, she would step aside and make way for you.”

Vendetti visibly reddened with rage. “Are you threatening to set me up? That job was earmarked for me; that’s how you got me to join your little cabal. You didn’t hold up your end of the bargain.”

“Oh, but you’re wrong. I did everything I said I would. You can blame Breathwaite for getting passed over, Michael. It was his hare-brained scheme to take Kyle hostage and kill her in that asinine prison riot. If it hadn’t backfired, the governor wouldn’t have appointed her spokesperson for his presidential campaign, and she wouldn’t be press secretary right now.”

As much as he wanted to argue further, Vendetti couldn’t dispute the truth or the logic of Hawthorne’s words. Still… “It was your idea to include Breathwaite on the team and get him his job back in the first place.” Vendetti pointed his finger at Hawthorne accusingly. “You were the one who insisted Kyle had too much sway over the governor and needed to be neutralized.”

Hawthorne laughed. “Next thing I know you’ll be telling me it’s my fault Breathwaite and Redfield got convicted and sent to jail.” He looked at Vendetti, his face a cold mask. “Now get out, Michael, and don’t contact me again. If I need you, I’ll find you. Do you understand?”

Vendetti slammed the door forcefully on his way out.

“Hmm,” Hawthorne tapped his fingers rhythmically on his desk. With Breathwaite and Redfield safely behind bars, Vendetti was the only loose end.

“I sincerely hope you’re not going to be a problem, Michael, or I might be forced to do something about that.” Hawthorne contemplated for a moment, then sat down and picked up the phone.

Lynn Ames

“No.”

“C’mon, Derek. You and I go back a long way. You owe me,” Peter said.

The beefy man’s slightly bulging belly pushed up against the desk as he leaned across it to make his point. “What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand, Peter? Is it the part where I can’t manufacture evidence that isn’t there?”

Peter stood ramrod straight, his eyes boring into the deputy director of the FBI.

LaPointe blinked. “Look, old friend. If there was some reason, any reason to presume foul play, you know I’d have my boys turn that scene inside out.”

“You should be turning the scene inside out anyway.”

“Why, because you have a hunch?”

“Derek, you don’t need me to point out the obvious. Jay’s partner is the press secretary to the president. Two days before the accident, two heavy hitters involved in a plot to kill her were sentenced to life in prison. Doesn’t the timing strike you as a little odd?”

“Of course it does.”

“Okay, then.”

“But that isn’t enough, Peter. There’s just no smoking gun, you know what I’m saying? Not even a water pistol. My guys spent three days at the scene and found nothing. I can’t justify assigning any more manpower to the case.”

Peter stalked to the window, trying to rein in his anger. “Very well.

Will you at least stay out of my way while I investigate?”

The deputy director shook his head resignedly. “You’re tilting at windmills.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Okay. If you find anything, I’ll consider reopening the investigation.

How’s that?”

“Big of you.”

“Look, I know I owe you. I wouldn’t have made it out of that POW

camp in Nam without your help. I’d love to tell you we’ve got evidence to support your theory, but right now it’s just not there.”

“It’s there—you just haven’t found it.”

“Whatever you say. I’ll be here if you come up with anything tangible, okay?”

“Affirmative. Bye, Derek.”

“Good hunting, my friend.”

The Value of Valor

Kate stood on the patio breathing in the chilled winter air. Her head throbbed painfully and her heart was heavy. Visitors—friends and acquaintances—had been stopping by throughout the day to pay their respects. All Kate really wanted was to be alone.

Every time someone expressed sorrow at her loss, it made Jay’s death more real. Kate didn’t want that. It wasn’t real. She refused to believe it.

This was just a bad nightmare. In the morning, she would wake up to Jay’s gentle snoring, her disheveled blonde hair sticking out in all directions. If only she could make it through this day.

“Kate?” Barbara watched her friend’s tall silhouette in the moonlight, her shoulders obviously sagging.

“Yeah?” Kate answered wearily.

“Trish is here.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Patricia Stanton was Jay’s editor at Time magazine and one of her closest friends. As soon as Kate had been able to compose herself after the phone call from Arizona, she had made three calls of her own—one to Peter, one to Barbara, and one to Trish.

In some ways, telling Trish had been the hardest. She had known Jay for years—had hired her right out of college as a reporter for the magazine.

“Hello, Trish.”

“Hi.” The petite woman reached up on tiptoe to hug Kate. When she pulled back, there were tears in her eyes. She turned away. “I-I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s okay, Trish.”

“I’ve been over it dozens of times in my mind.” Trish pounded her fist into her palm. “If I hadn’t let Jay talk me into doing the story out there, this never would have happened.”

“No. Don’t do that to yourself, Trish. Jay wanted to do the story; she was really excited about it.”

“Still—”

“Stop it,” Kate said softly. “We all have regrets about what happened, but we can’t play ‘what if.’ If Jay was here,” her voice faltered, “she’d make the same choice all over again. She was fascinated by the Native American traditions.”

Trish sobbed, “I’d change her stubborn mind if I could.”

Kate enveloped her in another hug. “So would I, Trish. So would I.”

The two women stood like that for some time, sharing the rawness of their pain.

Lynn Ames

As she pulled away, Kate said, “By the way, I don’t think I ever really thanked you properly for standing by Jay when the rest of the world was criticizing her ethics.”

Trish waved her hand dismissively. “Ancient history. Kate, when Jay came to me after writing that cover story on you and told me that you two had a personal relationship, I questioned her closely. Not only that, but I reread the story several times. The truth was that you were a hero—

you saved lives after the capitol bombing even though it wasn’t your job as a reporter to do so. You deserved that cover. And I believed then, as I do now, that Jay wrote a fair and balanced piece.”

“You and I may be the only ones who think that.”

“No. Vander Standislau thinks so, too. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have kept Jay on staff at Time.”

“You know, it’s been what, almost two years, and they still haven’t figured out who was responsible. Amazing.”

“I know. Someone bombs the New York state capitol, you’d think it’d be a top priority to figure out whodunit,” Trish said.

“I’m not sure it’s not a top priority—just difficult to solve.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Trish shrugged. “I wonder if they ever will.”

When Trish left, Kate collapsed on the sofa in the living room. She tried to focus on a movie, with little success. She was dimly aware of the ringing phone but ignored it. Barbara had been screening her calls all day.

“No, you most certainly may not!”

It was the tone of Barbara’s voice that captured Kate’s attention. She jumped up and hurried to the kitchen, where Barbara was pacing.

“What’s up?” she mouthed.

Barbara turned her back.

“And I’m telling you—”

Kate grabbed the phone out of Barbara’s trembling hand and barked,

“Who is this?”

“This is Ted Parker. Who is this?” His gravelly voice boomed over the line.

Kate straightened up automatically. The fact that the man would dare to call her home, would presume even to dial the number, made her blood boil. “This is Katherine Kyle, Mr. Parker, you know, your daughter’s perverted lover.”

He made a disgusted sound.

“What do you want?”

“As Jamison’s next of kin, I want answers.”

Kate stiffened.

The Value of Valor

“Why wasn’t I called and informed of her death? Why did I have to find out from the news? Her mother is distraught. I want her personal effects sent home immediately.”

“First of all, you are not Jay’s next of kin,” she ground out.

“The hell I’m not.”

“Second of all,” Kate ignored his interruption, “Jay’s things will stay exactly where they belong—in our home, with me, her grieving spouse.”

“Listen to me, you freak, no daughter of mine was married to any woman.” He spat the word as if it was a curse. “It’s illegal.”

“It’s unfortunate you missed the commitment ceremony last year—it was beautiful. Jay looked radiant.” She knew she was baiting him, but she couldn’t help herself.

“You are an abomination,” he thundered.

“And you are—well, don’t get me started. I have nothing to say to you, Mr. Parker.”

“Very well. I’ll get a court order to force you to turn over my daughter’s possessions and any money you might have stolen from her accounts.”

“You can go ahead and try, Mr. Parker, but Jay’s will is crystal clear.

It leaves everything to me. Shall I mail you a copy?” Kate was pretty sure she heard him growl.

“Don’t bother to come to the funeral, Ms. Kyle. You’re not welcome.”

“Funer—” Kate held the phone and its angry dial tone away from her ear.

Kate looked up at Barbara with a bewildered expression on her face.

“He’s having a funeral for Jay.”

“I know, I could hear his end of the conversation from here.” Barbara put a comforting hand on Kate’s arm. Both she and Peter had tried earlier to get Kate to think about a service for Jay, but she adamantly refused, saying it would mean that she accepted that Jay was really dead.

“He can’t do that.”

“Oh, yes he can, Kate.”

“I won’t let him.”

“You can’t stop him, honey.”

Hot, anguished tears streamed down Kate’s face. “It’s not right. That bastard made Jay’s life a living hell. He destroyed her childhood. He was a sexually abusive, domineering, bullying asshole. All she ever wanted was his love and affection. He never gave her either.”

“You’re right, Kate. But he was still her father, and despite everything, she still clung to the hope that she could have her parents in her life in a positive way.”

“I never understood why,” she sniffed.

Lynn Ames

Barbara shrugged. “Because as she once told me, they were her parents. The fact that she wanted a relationship with them didn’t mean she was okay with what her father did to her as a child.”

“Hrmph.”

“She said she hoped one day she’d be able to introduce you to them so you could see they weren’t monsters—just flawed people.”

“She told you that?”

“Yes,” Barbara nodded.

“She never told me.”

“She was afraid you wouldn’t understand.”

Kate accepted the truth of that. “Oh, Jay, I’m so sorry I made things more difficult for you.” She looked at Barbara. “I wouldn’t even entertain it. Remember the huge argument Jay and I had just before Christmas last year, when she wanted us to spend the holiday with her folks?”

Barbara smiled wistfully. “It’d be kind of hard to forget that. She was pretty torn up about it, and so were you, as I recall.”

“It all seems so pointless now.”

“Death has a way of making a lot of things seem unimportant.”

“Death,” Kate whispered the word, anguish written all over her face.

“I’m not ready to give up on her, Barbara. I can’t.”

“Grieving doesn’t mean you’re giving up, honey.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“I don’t think so.”

Kate was quiet for a minute as she struggled with the concept.

Finally, she said, “I’m not going to let him do this.” Her tone was resolute.

Barbara looked at her expectantly.

“I’m going to hold a service for Jay the day after tomorrow.”

“You are?” Barbara was astounded.

Kate nodded, trying to stem a new wave of grief and tears. “To celebrate her life.”

“That’s my Kate.”

“I can’t…the idea of that man eulogizing a child he didn’t value—

crying crocodile tears and garnering sympathy over her—just makes me sick to my stomach. The only way to stop him is to beat him to the punch.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mmm hmm.” It was the only sound she could make around the lump in her throat.

The Value of Valor

CHAPTER TWO

he room slowly came into focus. The walls were reddish-tan and T lined with shelves containing jars filled with different substances.

Some appeared to be plants, others rocks and minerals. In one corner, a slightly built, dark-skinned woman was pouring something into a bottle and humming to herself.

“H-” The woman in the bed tried to clear her throat. “H-hello?”

Terri Lightfoot wheeled around, a smile creasing her warm, friendly face. “Ah, you’re awake.”

“I guess.”

The healer approached the bed with a glass of water and a straw. In truth, she was quite relieved. It had been five days since the accident, and with one exception, the patient hadn’t regained consciousness until this moment.

Terri checked the IV and put her hand on a still-swollen cheek.

“Here, let’s raise you up a bit and give you a drink. Not too much, though.”

“Thank you.” The injured woman sipped greedily, although the motion caused her jaw to throb.

“How do you feel?”

“L-like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

Terri laughed. “Very nearly true.”

“Where am I?”

“You’re in my clinic. I’m Terri Lightfoot, the healer for this tribe.”

“Tribe?”

“Yes, you’re on the Navajo reservation near Chinle, Arizona.”

“Oh.” The woman tried to reach up to touch the bandages on her head, but the movement sent a searing pain through her torso.

Terri grasped her hand. “Stay still, child. You’ll injure yourself further.”

“What happened to me?”

Lynn Ames

“You were in a very bad car accident.” Terri considered carefully what she wanted to say. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

The woman seemed to consider. “I…” Her jaw worked for a minute in silence and a lone tear leaked out of her right eye. “I don’t know.”

“Do you remember who else was in the car with you?”

“What?”

“It’s okay. No need to worry about that now. How about your name, can you tell me that?”

The woman tried to shake her head, the agony of the motion causing her to cry out sharply.

“Shh. It’s all right. Everything’s going to be fine.” Terri sat on the edge of the bed and wrapped comforting arms around the woman.

“I’m scared.”

“I know. Shh. It will be fine; you have to trust me. You’re safe here.

Nothing will hurt you.”

“H-hurt me?” She wondered at what she considered an odd choice of words. “Why can’t I remember anything?”

“Sometimes after the brain is injured, it takes time to regain memory.

You took a very nasty blow to the head, and your body needs time to heal itself.”

“What if I never remember?”

“When the time is right, you’ll remember. I know it.” Terri thought about the ring in her pocket but decided she had pushed the woman hard enough for the moment. “I’ll tell you what.”

The eyes the injured woman turned to her were full of sadness and fear.

“We have to call you something. Pick a name you think is pretty.”

After a second’s hesitation, the woman said, “How about Alexa?”

Terri smiled. “Alexa is a beautiful name. I think it suits you.” Before she had finished her sentence, the woman had fallen asleep.

Terri turned Alexa’s ring over in her hand, staring at it. She was still debating whether or not to show it to Alexa in the hope that it would trigger her memory. She didn’t feel qualified to make that judgment.

Terri wished she’d taken a rotation in psychology while in medical school, but she’d been more interested in infectious diseases, deciding it would be of more practical help to her people.

She thought about the one person outside of the reservation she trusted to help her with Alexa’s care. She glanced at the bedside clock: 6:33 a.m. Andrea always was an early riser. She dialed the familiar phone number of one of her best friends from medical school and one of the finest psychologists she knew.

“Andrea Marsden.”

The Value of Valor

“Hello, old friend.”

“Terri!” The voice on the other end was warm, like liquid honey. “It’s awfully early in the day, even for you.”

“I didn’t wake you, did I?”

The woman laughed. “You know better than that. At this hour, though, I doubt you’re calling me just to catch up.”

“Perceptive, as always, Andy. I have a difficult problem, and I need some advice.”

“I’m listening.”

When Terri had filled Andrea in on the few details there were to Alexa’s story, she got down to the heart of the problem. “Should I ask her about the dead woman, the passenger?”

“No. It could be very traumatic.”

“Okay, here’s the second question. When she came to me, she was wearing a diamond wedding band. She was unconscious and her hands had cuts, bruises, and swelling. In cleaning her up, I removed the ring.

I’ve had it ever since.”

“She doesn’t know about it?”

“No. I haven’t shown it to her yet. I guess the question is, should I?

Will it help her regain her memory?”

There was silence on the line for several moments as the psychologist considered the question. “It’s possible. But, Terri, I think it’s more likely that it would serve to frustrate her. It could set her back.”

“How so?”

“She’s suffered traumatic amnesia, as you know. She’s in a dissociative fugue. Usually in a case like this, memory recovery would be triggered by contact with something, or someone, from the past. In this instance, since the event leading to the amnesia had a physical, in addition to the psychological, component as a result of her head injuries, it’s a little more complicated.”

“What do you suggest?”

“I think it would be best if she recovered her memory as naturally as possible. Who she is, where she came from, the ring, and the other woman in the car—it’s inside of her. When her mind and body are ready, assuming they will be, it’ll come back.”

Terri detected a hesitation in her friend’s voice. “What is it, Andy?”

“Have you been paying attention to the news lately?”

“I’ve been trying to, but Alexa’s care has kept me very busy. I miss watching the television, but at least I’ve been able to keep the radio on in my office.”

“Terri, I think there’s a good chance the dead passenger is the press secretary’s lover, Jamison Parker.”

Lynn Ames

“I know, I’ve come to the same conclusion,” Terri answered. “It must have been—all the details fit. Which brings me to my next question.

Should I try to call the press secretary—Katherine Kyle?”

“To what end?” Andrea asked.

“To see if she knows who Alexa is. I haven’t done this yet, because I’ve been afraid to intrude on her grief.”

“I’d be surprised if you could get through to her in the first place,”

Andrea said. “And, psychologically speaking, it’s still important not to force Alexa’s memory. The patient has to be the priority. She’ll come to it in her own time.”

“I hope, for her sake, that time is soon.”

“Kate?” Peter called through the door.

“Yes?” She nervously fumbled with an earring.

“Everybody’s here.”

There was a pause.

“Okay, I’ll be right out.” Kate had managed, with the help of friends in important places, to secure a historic mansion in Saratoga Springs, New York, in which to hold the service. She picked this spot because it was the site of her very first date with Jay.

They had spent the day hiking at Kaaterskill Falls in the Catskills.

Kate wanted to do something special for their first dinner date, so she called in a favor from a friend—the curator of this site. It had been the one-time headquarters of Revolutionary War General Burgoyne during the famous Battle of Saratoga. Kate surprised Jay by taking her to dinner in the intimate private dining room of this house, which was closed to the public. The evening had been magical.

Kate sighed, looking down at the picture in her hands. There was Jay, laughing and smiling, looking elegant in the rust-colored silk pantsuit she had worn that night, showing off the two dozen roses Kate had given her.

“Jay, I can’t say goodbye to you.” A teardrop fell onto the picture. “I just can’t. You might still be out there—it’s not impossible. I won’t give up on you as long as there’s hope. So today is not about an ending, okay?

It’s just a celebration of your life and who you are. I know you’re going to come back to me.” She choked on her tears. “Please come back to me, Jay. I love you so much.”

When Kate walked out into the great room where the service was to be held, she was both dumbfounded and touched. There, assembled before her, was a “Who’s Who” of people who had played a role in her life and Jay’s. In the front row were Peter, Barbara, Trish, President Hyland, and Vander Standislau, the editor in chief of Time. Just behind them were colleagues and friends from the media like Wendy Ashton of The Associated Press; Wanda Nelson, host of the nighttime news The Value of Valor

magazine America’s Heartbeat; Gene—Kate’s favorite cameraman from her days at WCAP-TV; and Phil, her news producer. In the next row of seats were the current and former commissioners of the New York State Department of Correctional Services Randy Garston and Brian Sampson.

Alongside Sampson sat Sarah Alexander, Jay’s college roommate and first lover. The list went on and on. Kate suspected there were more than one hundred people in the room.

For a long moment, she simply stood at the podium that had been set up for her. She might have stayed frozen that way had Barbara not caught her eye and given her a reassuring smile and nod.

“Th-the fact that there are so many of you here, on such short notice and so far away from home for most of you—well, it says a lot for the kind of person Jay is.”

There was a low buzz in the room and Kate looked up to find a sea of sympathetic faces. She paused. “As you can imagine, this is very difficult for me. I’m not ready to say goodbye yet.” She struggled to keep her emotions in check. “As a result, what I’m going to ask you all to do today may seem a bit unorthodox.” She smiled weakly. “I hope you’ll bear with me.

“Today isn’t about endings. It’s a celebration of one extraordinary woman’s life. I wish…I wish Jay were here right now to feel all the love for her in this room.” Kate swallowed hard.

“I’d like to start by having those of you who are so inclined say one word you’d use to describe Jay.” Her eyes settled on the president. “Mr.

President, sir, I believe I’d like you to start.”

All eyes turned to the charismatic man in the front row. Charles Hyland rose to his full 6’2” height. “Delightful.”

There were murmurs of assent.

Barbara stood next. “Engaging.”

Peter followed. “Sweet.”

It was Trish’s turn. “Talented.”

Words started to flow in such rapid-fire succession that it became difficult for Kate to keep track of the source for each descriptor.

“Intelligent.”

“Dedicated.”

“Loyal.”

“Witty.”

“Dependable.”

“Vivacious.”

“Tireless.”

“Relentless.”

“Thorough.”

“Friendly.”

Lynn Ames

“Outgoing.”

“Funny.”

“Sneaky.”

That comment caused a ripple of laughter and a round of hearty agreements. When the words had died down and quiet resumed, Kate smiled at the group. “My word for Jay is perfect, although I know she’d argue with me about that.” She looked at the faces around the room. “I see so many of you here who have known Jay as long, or longer, than I have. I think one of the best ways to honor and celebrate someone is to share her stories. I’ll start with the first time I laid eyes on Jay—which is not, ironically, the first time I met her; that didn’t come until later.

“It was a little more than seven years ago, and I was a senior in college. There I was, locked in a tennis duel to the death with my arch nemesis in the final match of my college career. I was about to serve a pivotal point when something on the hillside overlooking the court caught my eye. I looked up, and there she was—this gorgeous girl in a Middlebury lacrosse sweatshirt. She smiled at me. I knew I’d better win the point and the match or I’d feel like a chump.”

The room exploded in laughter.

“Hey, that was a lot of pressure!” Kate waited a beat.

Someone yelled out, “Well? What happened? Did you win the match or not?”

“You bet your sweet bippy I did. Unfortunately, it was another five years before I won the girl. Although, we both agreed we fell in love at first sight that day.”

“Hopeless romantics.”

“Something wrong with that?” Kate shot back in the general direction of the comment.

More laughter. “Not a thing, Kate.”

“Good. Who wants to go next?” Kate was glad that her story seemed to have the intended effect—the group was looser and much less somber.

“I guess I’ll go,” Barbara said, standing up. “The first time I met Jay, she was pulling Kate by the ear into my office. It was the middle of the night, the New York state capitol building had been bombed, Kate had been the only reporter on the air for more hours than seemed humanly possible…” Barbara paused for effect. “And she looked like hell.”

“Hey!”

The group laughed again.

“Well, there’s no denying, toots, I’ve seen you look better.”

Kate grumbled good-naturedly.

“Anyway, into my office strides this pint-size dynamo, the Amazon here,” she pointed at Kate, “trailing meekly behind. It was clear right from the start who wore the pants in that relationship.”

The Value of Valor

Kate made a show of looking down at her knee-length skirt.

The president stood up. “I suppose, chronologically speaking, I should go next since the first time I met Jay was the next day. She had been scheduled to interview me the day of the bombing. Obviously, that had to be postponed. She agreed to meet me in my New York City office the following morning. You know, I’m fairly used to reporters trying to wheedle information out of me.” He winked at the members of the press present in the room. “Jamison Parker, though,” he continued, “she had a very special skill. I swear she could talk a snake into giving up its skin.”

Heads nodded.

“Before I knew it, she had me talking about all kinds of things that would give my staff hives. She did it all with a smile and a genuineness that was impossible to resist. I think she was Time’s secret weapon.”

“No argument there,” Trish mumbled. “I guess that’s my cue.” Trish cleared her throat and stood up a little straighter, as if ready for battle.

“Jay was the kind of reporter every editor dreams of. She had more talent in her little finger than most writers with decades more experience and more integrity than anyone I’ve ever met.” She hesitated for a moment, making eye contact with fellow members of the media in the room. Then she looked directly at her boss, the man who had reluctantly suspended Jay when the heat was on to satisfy the media’s quest to see the reporter punished for her ethical lapse.

“I remember well the story she wrote about Kate—it was called TheNew Breed of Journalist. I assigned Jay to that story because I knew it would take a special kind of writer to come back with something riveting—something that would really make readers want to read about some medium-market television broadcaster.” Trish looked around the room, then pointedly at a few of the newsmakers present. “I know it will come as a shock to some of you, but reporters aren’t always held in the highest esteem.”

A chorus of groans greeted the comment.

“What Jay captured in that piece was nothing short of magic—a vivid picture of Kate as a dedicated professional, going above and beyond any obligation to get the story with blatant disregard for her own safety. The truth is, Kate became a savior to some of those trapped in the rubble. But the thing that made it the most skillful piece of writing I’ve ever read is this: Jay didn’t tell the story. She let the bombing victims, Kate’s colleagues, and others paint the portrait. Brilliant.” Trish’s voice held awe. “Whether or not she knew, or was involved with, Kate before the story ran is completely irrelevant. In a way, Jay actually recused herself from the story and let it tell itself. Now that, ladies and gentlemen, takes talent.”

Lynn Ames

Wendy Ashton stood up next. “Jay epitomized the phrase ‘Grace under fire.’ The first time I met her was the morning she introduced herself to the world as Kate’s mysterious blonde lover. Despite the tenseness of the situation, she was genial, direct, and unapologetic. I remember thinking to myself how rare that kind of poise and presence is in this world.”

Wendy paused and swallowed hard. “The next time I saw Jay, I had just come from Attica.” She wiped suddenly damp palms on her slacks and looked up at the woman at the podium.

Kate nodded at her to continue, even as her fingers gripped the podium with enough force that it turned her knuckles white.

“Unbeknownst to the kidnappers, when Kate stumbled and fell on me, she managed to slip me a message for Jay. Again, despite the dire nature of what was happening, Jay was nothing but gracious when I saw her. She was completely undone by the whole mess but still took the time to thank me and try to make me feel better about having to interview the kidnappers. I think that was probably typical of Jay—always more worried about others than she was about herself.”

“The day Kate was released from the hospital was Christmas Eve,”

Peter jumped in. “After the events at Attica, Jay decided she didn’t want to wait until May, when she and Kate had planned to have their commitment ceremony. Typical Jay,” he shook his head, “she never was any good at delaying gratification.”

Kate laughed, grateful for the comic relief, and mumbled, “That’s an understatement.”

“Anyway,” Peter continued, “Jay wanted to have the celebration right away.” He looked up again. “As any of us who know Jay well can attest, when she wants something, she gets it.”

Next to him, he heard Trish chuckle. “Mmm hmm.”

It was not lost on Kate that of everyone who had spoken, Peter was the only one to use the present tense when speaking of Jay. As Peter never made mistakes of that sort, the significance of his words caused Kate’s heart to skip a beat.

“On Christmas Day,” Peter went on, “I had the privilege of walking Jay down the aisle. She was positively radiant and so obviously in love.

She had everything she wanted in life waiting for her at the end of that stroll. I’ll always remember the beautiful smile she wore that day. It lit up the room.”

The president chimed in, “I had the assignment of a lifetime that day—joining together two soul mates. For all the lousy aspects of my job, performing Kate and Jay’s ceremony was an honor and a privilege I’ll always treasure.”

The Value of Valor

“Thank you, sir,” Kate said quietly. “It was a thrill for us to have you officiate.” She took a deep breath. “I want to thank you all personally for coming today. Celebrating Jay’s life, hearing what she meant to all of you and how you felt about her—it means the world to me, and I know it would to her, too.

“Now knowing most of this crowd as I do, I’ve managed to have some food prepared. I’ve never seen any of you turn down a free meal.”

She winked at the reporters, and they laughed.

As the group headed for the adjoining room, where a cadre of waiters had set up a buffet, Kate grabbed Peter by the elbow. “Come with me.”

She dragged him into what had been General Burgoyne’s library.

“What is it? How are you doing, Kate?”

“Never mind that. You said ‘anyone who knows Jay.’ Not ‘knew,’

‘knows.’ You think she’s alive.” She was practically vibrating.

Peter put a hand on Kate’s shoulder. “Kate, there is nothing out there to indicate that she’s not dead. In fact, all indications are clearly that she is.”

Kate rounded on him. “You used the present tense. That was no accident.”

“I think there’s a very, very remote possibility that she could be alive.”

She started to move toward the door. “I’m going back out there.”

Peter restrained her. “No.”

A storm brewed in Kate’s eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me you thought it was possible?”

“First of all, I don’t want to give you false hope.”

She started to interrupt, but he stopped her.

“Second of all, think about it. If she is out there somewhere, it means whoever tried to kill her failed. If you go charging out there, they’re going to think they didn’t succeed. You’ll further endanger her.”

“You’re fighting dirty,” she accused Peter.

“He’s right, Kate.”

Kate looked back over her shoulder. She hadn’t heard the president come in.

“You know about this, sir?”

President Hyland laughed shortly. “One of the benefits of being the big cheese—when I ask questions, folks are compelled to answer. I brought in the head of the investigation to give me a progress report. I listened to what he had to say, then summoned Peter and asked for his assessment. He clearly wasn’t satisfied with the FBI’s conclusions. He asked me for permission to poke around on his own.”

Kate looked at Peter, the gratitude clearly evident in her expression.

Lynn Ames

“I can’t do anything officially, of course,” the president said, “but I’ve made sure that Peter has access to whatever resources he needs.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He smiled at Kate kindly. “Anything for you, Kate. You know that, right?”

“You’re too kind, Mr. President.”

“Kate,” the smile disappeared from his face. “The FBI is releasing a report today stating that the investigation determined that Jay is dead.”

Kate sucked in a surprised breath. She moved away from both of them then, walking over to the window to stare vacantly out at the snow-covered rolling hills leading down to the river. She needed some physical distance, some way to separate herself from the pain. She watched small chunks of ice flowing downstream and said nothing. What could she say?

Her heart felt as though it had been cut open; her mind rebelled at the idea of an official document declaring her lover dead.

“I didn’t want you to see that on the news or hear about it through the grapevine and have it come as a shock. I wanted to tell you myself.”

Quietly, without turning around, she said, “I appreciate your thoughtfulness, sir.”

“Kate,” Peter said gently, “every indication is that it’s the truth.

Besides, it’s in her best interest, if she is alive, for whoever did this to believe they succeeded.”

“I understand that, Peter.” Her fingers played over the rough surface of the wood around the glass. “It’s just not easy to hear, regardless of the reasons.”

“Understood.”

“Kate, I wish I had more time, but I have to get back to Washington. I want you to take all the time you need. Call me if you need anything—

anything at all—and come back whenever you’re ready. We’ll be fine.”

“I’ll call in regularly, sir, don’t worry.”

“It’s you who shouldn’t worry, Kate. Take your time.”

“Sir, if you need anything, I hope you’ll call. I’d like to stay in the loop.”

“Of course,” he squeezed her shoulder. “Stay in touch.”

When Kate and Peter were alone, she said, “You’ll keep me posted while you’re in Arizona?” There was a touch of uncertainty in her voice.

“You know I will, but, Kate, I’m going out there to prove that this was murder. I’ll search for any signs of Jay at the same time, but I don’t hold out much hope and neither should you.”

Her answer was a single raised eyebrow. Peter almost never spoke to her in that tone.

“What do you want me to say, Kate? I’m in a tough spot here. I’m worried that you’re getting your hopes up too high. It almost makes me The Value of Valor

wish I was capable of lying to you—that I could just tell you without reservation that she’s gone. But I can’t, and I’m afraid that because I can’t, it will just prolong your agony.”

“Peter, I need to know that you’ll tell me whatever you know, when you know it.” She poked him in the chest hard with her index finger. “I don’t want to be sitting here wondering what the hell you’re filtering out.

Get it?” Her voice had risen steadily until she was practically shouting at him.

“Okay, Kate.”

“Okay what, smart boy?”

Peter scowled. “Okay, Katherine, I promise that I will tell you everything I know, when I know it.”

“That’s better.”

Peter stopped just short of the door, turning back to look at his best friend. “You know I’ll do everything in my power to bring Jay back to you, right?”

“I know,” she agreed.

“But there are no guarantees that she’s aliv—”

“Don’t say it,” she interrupted quickly. “I know that, Peter. But I won’t give up as long as there’s a chance. I just can’t.”

He nodded, praying to himself that if for any reason he couldn’t find Jay alive, he could at least find the irrefutable evidence of her death that would allow Kate to move on.

Lynn Ames

CHAPTER THREE

obert Hawthorne waited on the curb, a thick winter overcoat R pulled tight around his ample midsection, the collar turned up to protect against the chill wind blowing on Constitution Avenue in the nation’s capital. He had known this day was coming for a long time, and still it terrified him.

When a secretive and shadowy consortium of the wealthiest, most powerful men in the world had approached him nearly a decade earlier offering to bankroll his candidacy for president, he thought he was about to realize his life’s ambition. In exchange for his election, they told him, they expected to help him rule the most powerful nation in the world—to change the global paradigm to suit their own purposes. Despite the fact that he knew the price was exorbitantly high, he had agreed. Without the backing of the “Commission,” as they called themselves, Hawthorne knew he’d never stand a chance of being elected. As it turned out, even their help hadn’t been enough.

“You’ve lost the election, Robert. You know what that means?”

Hawthorne shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“You remember how we squashed that nasty story about your addictdaughter holing up in a flophouse with her heroin-dealing boyfriend?

Remember how we made him disappear and sent her away to get cleanand sober?”

Hawthorne swallowed hard. He’d nearly lost his precious Emily andhis political career in a single stroke. The Commission had saved both asa sign of good faith and to prove their power to him.

“We have someone standing by right this very minute, ready to offeryour daughter the high of a lifetime.”

Hawthorne’s fury and anguish were barely contained. “Youbastard!”

“You be careful with that mouth or I might lose my temper with you,”

the man across from Hawthorne warned. “You have one chance to buyyour daughter’s worthless life back, Senator.”

Hawthorne ground his teeth together, knowing he had no choice.

“What do you want from me?”

The Value of Valor

“Get us a candidate who can win and find a way to convince him tosupport our world view, and we’ll consider sparing you and yourfamily.”

“But it will take years to rebuild the party.”

“That’s because you failed!” The man lowered his voicedangerously. “We’re in a generous mood, Robert. We’ll give you twoelection cycles to get it done.”

Hawthorne had immediately positioned himself to become chairman of the Democratic National Committee. He developed an eight-year plan, targeting Charles Hyland, the newly elected governor of New York and a rising star in the party, as the only man who could save his family. The only problem was Charlie had morals and principles; he could never be bought—not even by an organization as powerful as the Commission. It was unfortunate, to be sure, but not an insurmountable obstacle.

Hawthorne would just have to find a way around him.

The limousine door opened, a hand beckoning from within.

Hawthorne ducked his head and took a seat opposite Wayne Grayson, head of Grayson Enterprises and number two on the world’s list of top moneymakers.

“Robert, it’s been a long time.”

“Yes, it has. I’ve kept my end of the bargain.”

“So far. But we’re just getting started. That business in New York was messy. We don’t like messy.”

“I know. Breathwaite was a loose cannon, but he’s out of the way now.”

“Yes, that little stunt out at Attica worked in our favor in the end—

you said yourself it improved Hyland’s standing with the public. It made him look tough on crime and swayed swing voters to pull the lever for him. Very presidential. Heck, if that had happened earlier on in the campaign, we might not have had to bomb the New York state capitol just to make him look heroic.”

Hawthorne was beyond astounded. “Y-you did that?”

Grayson examined his nonexistent cuticles and laughed mirthlessly.

“You were the one who told your colleagues that the governor was screwing up his chances. We thought he could use a boost in the polls, some positive media attention, and an opportunity to look like a leader.

Some of our international friends were only too happy to help us out.”

“People died in those explosions.”

“Don’t be naïve,” Grayson snapped. “Those individuals were martyrs for a good cause. We were only trying to help you succeed, Robert. I’d think you’d be grateful.” Grayson’s eyes turned hard as he narrowed his focus on Hawthorne.

Lynn Ames

“Make no mistake about it. We’ll do whatever is necessary to achieve our goals.”

“And those goals are…?”

“1989 is going to be the year of democracy.”

“I’m not sure I’m following you.”

Grayson moderated his tone of voice as if he were talking to a slow child. “We’re going to shift the way the world works—open up new avenues for our commerce. Change the global economy to expand our markets and further reduce the costs of our manufacturing by moving processes overseas.”

“W-what is it exactly I’m supposed to be doing?”

“You’re going to be the catalyst for change, Robert. We’re going to start in Communist China.”

“Ch-China?”

“That’s right. The United States government is going to fuel a pro-democracy revolution. All behind the scenes and very hush-hush, of course.”

“You want me to get the president and members of Congress to approve monies to overthrow Deng Xiaoping?”

Grayson shook his head. “No. The Commission will supply the money. We just want you to get the covert action approved and the mechanisms in place. You’ve got three months to set the revolution in motion.”

“We can’t just send our military in there to overthrow one of the most entrenched Communist governments in the world.”

“Of course not, Robert. The U.S. is going to get idealistic Chinese youth to do it for them. It has to look as though it’s an internal rebellion.”

Grayson laughed at Hawthorne’s facial expression. “Don’t look so shocked. China is only the beginning. After that, we’ve got our sights set on getting our man installed as leader of the Soviet Union—a fellow named Gorbachev. You’ll like him—he’s got very democratic ideals.

Once we have him in place, the rest of the Eastern bloc countries will fall and the world’s economy will be ours to control.”

Hawthorne was sweating, despite the frigid temperatures outside.

These men were mad, but he saw no choice. He had to succeed, even if it meant subverting the president of the United States.

As if reading his mind, Grayson said, “We’re counting on you, Robert. Don’t let us down—the consequences could be rather dire for you and your family.”

Hawthorne opened the limousine door to exit, but Grayson restrained him with a hand on his arm. “We’ll be watching you. If you need any…help…to facilitate matters, use the code to get in touch with us.”

The Value of Valor

Hawthorne nodded, a hard knot forming in the pit of his stomach.

That was one phone call he hoped he’d never have to make.

Peter stood on the mesa surveying the area. His work boots and the bottom of his pants were covered in red rock dust and traces of black soot, although he took no notice. He kicked at a charred piece of metal, dislodging it from its resting place underneath a rock. Leaning over, he picked it up in a latex glove-covered hand and examined it closely. He grunted.

The FBI had collected everything they needed for testing and allowed the Arizona Highway Patrol to clean up the accident scene. But Peter had come anyway, hoping against hope to spot something, anything, that the others might have missed. He turned the item over in his hand, looking at it from every angle. It appeared, he decided, to be a fragment from one of the car’s tie rods. He opened one of the evidence bags he had brought along and placed it carefully inside, sealing the bag.

“Still here looking, eh?” Officer Brandan Oakley of the Arizona Highway Patrol stopped a few feet away from Peter. His boss had told him an independent investigator, sanctioned by the president himself, would be out here poking around.

“I’m just going over ground I’m sure you boys and the FBI have already covered. I’m Peter Enright.”

“Brandan Oakley. What are you looking for exactly?”

“I don’t really know.” Peter considered for a moment. “Tell me about this stretch of road.”

Oakley shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. It’s relatively quiet—all this,” he indicated his surroundings, “is Navajo country.”

“So on a Saturday, there wouldn’t normally be anyone around?”

Oakley scratched the stubble on his chin. “That depends. This is an area the locals sometimes mine for minerals, precious stones, plants, and things, but if anyone saw anything, they sure haven’t come forward.”

“Did you interview anyone?”

“We asked around the reservation. Seems like nobody saw or heard anything.”

“You believe them?”

“I don’t have any reason not to. Folks over there tend to mind their own business. They don’t have much use for outsiders and they keep mostly to themselves, but they’re generally cooperative. Other than some drunk and disorderlies and traffic infractions, they don’t cause much trouble.”

“Mmm.” Peter thought for a minute, making a mental note to pay a visit to the Chinle Navajos. “How did you come to find the car if this is such a ‘quiet’ area?”

Lynn Ames

“Got a call from a passing motorist who got out to take a picture. He got a good whiff of smoke and noticed the broken guardrail. When he looked over the edge, he saw the car—or what was left of it—sitting down there on its roof.”

“How long do you figure that was after the accident?”

“Don’t know for sure, but it had to be a while. The car was nothing more than charred bits of metal and upholstery.”

Peter tried to remain objective, but it was hard not to picture Jay driving along, suddenly catapulted into space. It must have been terrifying. He shook his head to clear the image from his mind. Knowing Jay as he did, she would have been wearing her seat belt, so it was unlikely that she would have been thrown clear of the vehicle.

“In your opinion, Officer Oakley, could anyone have survived that crash?”

“I’ve been over it a thousand times in my mind since that day. I just don’t see how, barring a miracle.”

Peter nodded, resuming his search.

“Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything, here’s my direct line. Give me a call,” Oakley said.

“Thanks. I’ll be in touch.”

It was several hours later when Peter saw it. It was buried underneath dirt and rocks, just barely visible to the naked eye. He squatted in front of it, studying it for several seconds before pulling a pair of tweezers out of his chest pocket and freeing it—a miniscule piece of cloth, barely as big as his thumbnail, but recognizable in terms of its color and texture. He bagged the find, stood up, dusted himself off, and prepared to call it a day.

From the cover of the same ledge under which he had hidden from sight the day of the accident, Tommy watched the stranger intently.

Every time Tommy drove past the spot, the hair on the back of his neck stood up, yet he felt compelled to look. This was the first time he had seen someone here since the first few days after the crash. He would tell the tribal elders what he had seen.

“Slow down, Tommy.”

“But, sir…”

“It’s okay, son.”

“Describe this man to me again.” Ivan Perry, tribal council elder, held the boy by his shoulders.

“Tall—very tall, thin, sandy blond hair. He was wearing jeans, work boots, and a dark jacket.”

The Value of Valor

“Okay, Tommy. You’ve done well. You can go now.” When the boy had left, Ivan walked swiftly to the healer’s hogan.

“Terri, I need to speak with you for a moment.”

“Of course, Ivan.”

“In the other room.”

“What is it?” she asked in a hushed voice when they were out of earshot of her patient.

“There’s a man on the reservation asking questions.”

“Is he a law enforcement officer?”

“He’s not dressed that way. We can’t take a chance. She must be kept out of sight.”

“James won’t be happy. He warned that others would come.”

“I can handle James. For now, the most important thing is this woman’s safety. Can she be moved?”

“I can get Trystan to help me. Together we can relocate her temporarily to my home.”

“Hurry.”

Without another word, Ivan left.

Terri picked up the phone and dialed the familiar number. “Trystan?

It’s your mother. I need your help right away. Can you come to the clinic?”

“I’ll be right there, Amá.”

“I’ll be waiting.” Terri hurried out of her office and back into the room where her patient was sleeping. “Alexa?” She touched the young woman on the hand.

“Wha—?”

“Alexa, I think now would be a good time to see how seaworthy your legs are. Would you like to take a very short walk? My daughter will be here in a moment, and the two of us will help you.”

“O-okay. If you think I’m ready.”

Terri smiled at her kindly. “There’s only one way to find out.” She squeezed Alexa’s hand. “I’ll be right back.”

“What is it, Amá? Where’s the fire?” A beautiful, exotic-looking woman in her early twenties stood in the doorway of the clinic, her hands stuffed in the pockets of worn blue jeans.

“I need you to help me move my patient over to the house.”

“Is that wise?”

“Don’t question me, child. Just help.”

Trystan recognized the panic in her mother’s voice and clamped her mouth shut. “Right.” She stopped short when they reached the bed and swallowed hard. Even in her current state, the injured woman was gorgeous. Now this could get interesting.

Lynn Ames

“Hi,” the patient tried to smile. “I’m Alexa, or at least that’s what we’re calling me until we can figure out who I really am.”

The bashful look on the woman’s face was enough to melt Trystan’s heart. “Hello, I’m Trystan, Terri’s daughter. I hear you’re ready to get out of bed for the first time.”

“I guess.”

“Well here, let me help you. Just swing your legs over this way…”

Trystan moved in behind Alexa and lifted her gently onto her feet.

“That’s it, lean on me.”

Alexa grimaced as pain shot through her body. She groaned.

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re going to be fine,” Terri said. She shook her head at Trystan. Alexa was nowhere near ready to be up and around yet.

Together, mother and daughter virtually carried the patient across the road to Terri’s house.

“Here, let’s put her in the guest room. Can you hold her for a second, Trystan? I’ll turn down the bed.”

Dutifully, Trystan took Alexa’s full weight against her side.

“I’m sorry for being so much trouble,” Alexa said.

Trystan chuckled. “Believe me, having a beautiful woman hanging all over me is not my idea of trouble.”

“Oh,” Alexa blushed.

“I’m sorry. I’ve embarrassed you.”

“No, I’m fine. Everything is just a little overwhelming to me right now.”

“I’ll bet.” Trystan looked up at her mother’s signal. “How about if we get you settled in here for a little bit? A change of scenery might do you good.”

“Yes, that would be nice. Where are we?”

“My mother’s house.”

“Mmm, it feels cozy.”

“It is. I grew up here. You’re going to be in my room for the time being.”

“I don’t want to put you out of your room…”

“Oh, you’re not. I have my own house now, about a mile from here.”

“That’s nice.”

Trystan could feel Alexa drifting away even as she was still standing on her feet. “Amá? We need to move her now.”

In an instant, Terri was by Alexa’s other side. “Okay, can you lift her?”

“Of course.” Trystan swept the patient into her arms and cradled her, placing her gingerly on the bed. Alexa was already asleep.

Terri spent several minutes fussing with the covers, the weight of her daughter’s stare boring a hole through her back. “Yes?”

The Value of Valor

“What was that all about?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Terri said.

“Don’t use that innocent tone of voice on me. You don’t just up and move a patient in that condition on a whim. I know there’s something going on.”

Terri turned to face her daughter. “Come out here.” She motioned to the kitchen.

Trystan leaned against the kitchen counter with her arms folded.

Terri whispered, “There is a man on the reservation who was out at the accident site this morning. We moved Alexa for her safety.”

“Do you know that this man is bad? Maybe he’s a friend out looking for her.”

Terri twisted her hands nervously. “Perhaps. But we don’t know that.” She gestured toward the guest room and her patient. “We know nothing about Alexa except that someone wants her dead. This man could tell us anything to convince us he’s got her best interests at heart and we’d have no way of knowing if it was the truth. We can’t risk it.

She’s been through too much already.”

Trystan’s face registered surprise. “You’re really attached to this woman, aren’t you?”

“She’s lost and alone. She needs someone to care.” Terri shrugged.

“Why shouldn’t I be that person?”

“Okay, I’m sold.”

After a moment’s silence, Terri asked, “Can you feel the gentleness of her spirit?”

“Oh, yes. I certainly can.”

“It’s as though it radiates off her.”

“She’s definitely something special.” And someone I’d like to get toknow much better, Trystan added silently, smiling as she took her mother’s hand. “She couldn’t have a better advocate. You want me to stay with her for a while?”

“That would be great,” Terri sighed, clearly relieved. “I need to go back to the clinic and put things in order in case this man comes by.”

“Amá?” Trystan waited until Terri turned around. “Be careful.”

“I will. And, Acheehen?”

“Yes?”

“I saw the way you looked at Alexa. Remember that she has a life somewhere that we know nothing about.” She said softly, “I don’t want you to get your heart broken, Acheehen. I’m much too fond of it just the way it is.”

To herself, Trystan muttered, “It may already be too late for that.”

She watched her mother cross the street to the clinic, then turned back to Lynn Ames

the bed, pulling a chair close. Tentatively, she reached out and stroked the back of Alexa’s hand with her fingertips. So soft.

Alexa whimpered in her sleep.

Trystan cooed, “Shh, it’s okay, baby. I’m here. You’re safe now. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

Peter blew out a frustrated breath. So far, he had spent two hours in Chinle on the Navajo reservation, interviewing tribal elders and assorted others; he’d come up completely empty. No sign of Jay and no indication that anyone had seen the accident. Several people admitted to hearing about it—after all, a crash that spectacular was big news in this small community. But beyond that, the reservation was a dead end. There was only one more stop to make—the clinic.

He examined the building critically. It was a hogan, round in shape and made of adobe. Stepping across the threshold, he was surprised at how modern and clean it looked on the inside.

“Hello? Is anyone here?”

“Hello, I’m in here,” Terri called from one of the inner rooms. She wiped her damp palms on her pants.

“I’m Peter Enright.” He shook the petite woman’s hand as she emerged. She was very attractive—about his age or a little older, he suspected, with luxuriant reddish-brown skin and rich, dark eyes.

“I’m Terri Lightfoot, the tribe’s resident healer. How can I help you?”

She appraised him openly. He was good-looking—his face was handsome in a rugged sort of way; he was lean and hard, like someone who spent little time behind a desk. His strength was palpable, but she didn’t feel threatened by him. Still her instincts told her he was someone who walked with danger. “You look pretty healthy to me.”

Peter laughed. “So far, anyway. Actually, I’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

“About what?”

“I’m interested in a woman you may have seen. She was in a very bad car accident last week not far from here.”

“That’s awful.”

He looked at her, gauging her reaction. Either she didn’t know anything about Jay or she was a great poker player. “Yes, it is. I was wondering if you’d seen her—perhaps treated her.”

“It’s been a very slow week here. Nothing more than a stubbed toe and a rattlesnake bite, and both of those were boys I’ve known since they were born.”

“Are you sure?” He waited to see if her body language would signal discomfort. She stood completely at ease.

The Value of Valor

Her voice registered amusement. “I’m pretty sure I’d know the difference between a boy with a stubbed toe and a woman with injuries from a bad car accident.”

“I’m sure you would.” Peter, still focused on finding Jay, was nevertheless taken by this woman. “Your clinic is in a traditional hogan, yet I see many signs of Western influence in here, as well. How is that?”

“Ah, you are a perceptive man. I am one hundred percent Navajo, born and raised on this reservation.”

“But?”

Terri shrugged. “But as a young woman interested in medicine and trained by the tribe’s healers, I felt there was so much more to learn. So I left for a time and went to college and medical school at Cornell University.”

Peter looked around, intrigued. “Your wall is missing a diploma or two.”

Terri let out a heartfelt laugh. “Here there is no need for that sort of pretentiousness.”

“Do you call Western medical techniques pretentious then?”

She looked Peter directly in the eye. “No. I wouldn’t have spent so many hard years in school if I thought that. I believe in mixing the best of the West with the power of the Navajo healing traditions.”

“How does that work?”

“Well, depending on the illness, I might treat it with antibiotics and fluids while at the same time supervising a ceremonial song or the creation of a sand painting to speed the healing process.”

“I see. So your patients get all their bases covered.”

“Something like that.”

“Okay, well, I’ll leave you alone then. You’ve been very kind to answer my questions. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

“No bother at all.”

He nodded and pushed open the door, walking out into the twilight.

Terri watched him go, waiting until he was long out of sight, then called her house.

“Yes?”

“Trystan? How is Alexa?”

She’s beautiful, and her hair feels like silk as it runs through myfingers. “She’s still asleep.”

“Good.”

“Are you all right, Amá?”

“Yes, fine. He’s gone now, but I don’t want to take any chances.

Let’s keep Alexa right where she is in case he gets the urge to come back. I’ll just gather some supplies and be over in a little while. Will you be okay until then?”

Lynn Ames

“Of course.”

Peter picked up the phone, something he’d been avoiding for the past hour.

“Kate?”

“Peter?”

He winced. Her voice sounded so hopeful. “Yeah, it’s me.”

“Did you find anything? Did you find Jay?”

“I wish I could say that I did, my friend.”

“Oh.”

He closed his eyes against her pain. “Kate? Do you remember what Jay was wearing when she left that morning?”

She swallowed audibly. “Sh-she was wearing jeans and a maroon button-down shirt.”

“Did she have on a jacket?”

“Yes, why?”

“Describe it.”

“Why is that important?”

“Just answer me first, okay?”

“She had on a lightweight, navy blue insulated nylon ski jacket.”

Peter was caught off balance by the impact of the words. He wiped at a tear and tried hard to compose himself. After all, he was a professional.

“Peter?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“What is it? Please, tell me.”

“I found a little piece of material buried under some rocks and dirt today. It matches the description you just gave me of Jay’s jacket.” He could hear Kate sit down heavily, followed by the sound of muffled sobs.

“Kate, honey?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Shh, Kate.”

“Is—is there any chance, Peter, any chance at all? Maybe—maybe she took the jacket off before the accident. Or maybe—maybe it got caught on something when she was getting herself to safety…”

“I don’t know, Kate. I’d like to think so, too. But it’s looking less and less likely. I don’t think she could have gotten out of there by herself, and I can’t find anyone who says they saw the crash or her. I struck out today.”

The line was silent for a long time, and Peter wondered if Kate had put the phone down.

“Where do we go from here?” she asked finally.

The Value of Valor

“I’m going to go to the FBI lab in Quantico, Virginia, and see if there’s anything to indicate anyone else was in or near the car. It’s a long shot, but if she did get out with help, maybe I can find evidence of that.”

“You sound like you’re reaching.”

The dejection in her voice cut through him like a knife. “Yes. I promised you I wouldn’t lie to you. I’m grasping at straws at this point.”

“I appreciate everything you’re doing, Peter. You’re a good friend.

The best.”

“I love you, Kate. I’ll call you when I know something, but it may be a few days or a few weeks, depending on how backed up the lab is.”

“I understand. I’ll talk to you soon,” Kate said.

“Bye. Take care of yourself and give Fred a hug for me.”

Kate sat in the dark on the floor in her bedroom—their bedroom—for a long time without moving. She wanted to hold on to hope, but it seemed to be slipping through her fingers like fine grains of sand. From that very first awful phone call, she had willed Jay to be alive.

In the past when there had been trouble, she’d been able to “feel”

Jay’s distress. She closed her eyes and concentrated. Nothing happened.

Her lower lip trembled and tears threatened once more. When Peter spoke about her in the present tense at the service, Kate was convinced that Jay had somehow survived. At the moment, however, there remained precious little to suggest any reason for optimism.

Kate rose wearily to her feet and glanced at the bedside clock—3:23

a.m.; she had come to dread the nighttime most of all. She stripped out of her turtleneck and jeans, tossed aside her undergarments, and crawled under the covers.

She turned on her side, her arms automatically reaching out for the warmth and comfort of Jay’s body—a warmth and comfort she most likely would never know again.

Her breasts ached with want, craving her lover’s tender ministrations.

Slowly, reluctantly, Kate brushed her fingers across her belly and upward, her palm cupping the weight of her left breast. She sobbed when her thumb and forefinger found her nipple and squeezed.

“God, I can’t,” she cried brokenly, even as the sensitive tip hardened painfully. She turned over onto her stomach, trapping her hands underneath her torso. Her body was thrumming with desire, even as her mind rebelled.

“Damn you. Damn you, Jamison Parker, for going away like that.”

Her tears were hot and hopeless. “I need you, baby. My body needs you.”

The insistent, pounding pulse between her legs would not abate, no matter how she willed it to stop. Finally, in an act of desperation, Kate reached down and began stroking her swollen clitoris. As the pressure Lynn Ames

built to a crescendo, she buried her head in Jay’s pillow, breathing in her dead lover’s scent. “I will always love you, Jay. Forever.”

The Value of Valor

CHAPTER FOUR

rystan loved the early morning; it was her favorite time of day.

T This day in particular, she felt euphoric. Her mother had run into town and asked her to keep Alexa company.

The patient had been progressing slowly; her injuries were extensive and as a result took time to heal. Each day was a little better than the last, however, and Terri had finally declared that Trystan could take Alexa for a short walk.

While they hadn’t gotten to spend any time alone together since the day that stranger had come, Trystan had stopped by whenever possible to visit. She, her mother, and Alexa had spent hours playing card games and gossiping about the news on the reservation. Trystan admitted to herself that she was becoming more and more attracted to this woman and not just sexually—Alexa had a gentle, intelligent way about her that was irresistible.

Trystan lay in bed thinking about where they would go. She decided on a romantic stroll down by the water.

Alexa blew out a frustrated breath. It had been nearly a month by her calculation since she’d been rescued from the car accident. Despite her best efforts, she still couldn’t recall anything preceding the day she woke up in Terri’s clinic. Her head continued to throb painfully when she turned it too quickly, she couldn’t raise her arms over her head without feeling as though she’d been kicked in the ribs, and it was impossible to dress herself with her shoulder aching the way it did.

“I am so over this.”

“I can see that,” Trystan said.

Alexa gasped in surprise and covered her breasts. She was still unable to wear a bra because the pressure of the garment was too painful with her broken ribs. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Trystan shoved off from the doorway where she’d been watching with a mixture of desire and amusement as Alexa fought a losing battle with one of her own long-sleeved shirts. Despite Trystan’s best intentions, being in this woman’s presence evoked powerful sexual urges in her. “I’m sorry, I should have knocked.”

Lynn Ames

“Yes, you should have.” Alexa was both embarrassed and furious.

Trystan tried her best to look contrite, but she was too turned on by the sight of those perfect, creamy breasts and the sweet blush that turned Alexa’s cheeks an appealing shade of red. “Um, can I help you?”

Alexa wanted to say no but knew she stood no chance of getting the shirt on by herself. “Please.”

Trystan’s fingers trembled slightly as she reached out to take the shirt from Alexa and slip her injured arm through the sleeve. “It’s been a while since I dressed a woman; normally, I prefer to undress them.”

Trystan knew immediately that she’d made a mistake.

Alexa turned away quickly, the action causing the material of the shirt to slip out of Trystan’s grip. “On second thought, I’ll manage myself.” The words were clipped and sharp.

“Hey, Alexa. I didn’t mean anything by it. I was only joking. I swear.”

Trystan tried to grab onto the free shirtsleeve, but Alexa moved farther away, seeming to shrink into herself. After a moment, Trystan realized that she was crying.

“Oh, my God. No, no, Alexa, don’t cry. Please don’t cry. Geez.”

Trystan reached out awkwardly and patted her on the back. “I’m so, so sorry. Really I am.”

Alexa managed to get the shirt on the rest of the way herself and button several of the buttons, sniffing and drying her eyes with her hand as it poked out of the sleeve. She went over and sat in a wooden chair near the side of her bed.

“I’m sorry about that. I don’t know what’s the matter with me.”

Alexa thought for a minute. “That’s not true. I do know.” She looked up at Trystan, tears still shimmering on her lashes. “I’m scared.”

Trystan wanted to approach her, but she wasn’t sure that was such a good idea, so she thrust her hands into her pockets instead.

“I don’t know who I am or what my life was like. I don’t know whether I’m straight or gay, married or single. I don’t know where I live, whether I have a job, how old I am.” Fresh tears started to fall anew, and her eyes reflected the confusion and fear she’d felt since the first day she’d arrived on the reservation. “Your mother says when it’s time, I’ll remember. But when will that be? And what am I supposed to do in the meantime? What if I never remember?”

“You will,” Trystan said with certainty. “I don’t know you very well yet, Alexa, but I can see that you’re a very determined woman. You’ll find your way.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because you have a strong spirit and a will to live. To me, that says you have something to live for, and that’s a powerful healing tool.”

The Value of Valor

Trystan hesitated, then opened her arms. “Right now, though, you look like you could use a friend and a hug. Can I help?”

Alexa nodded and moved into the embrace, soaking up the comfort.

“You smell nice.”

“Yeah? Thanks.” Trystan rested her cheek on Alexa’s hair, her heart pounding in her chest. Holding Alexa felt so right, and she’d come very close to missing out on the opportunity. She knew she needed to go slowly if she stood any chance of being in this woman’s life. “I’m sorry if I came on too strong before. I’m not going to pretend I’m not attracted to you, Alexa, because that would be a lie. But I can see that what you really need is a friend, and I’d like to be that for you. Will you let me?”

Alexa pulled back, recognizing somewhere deep in her soul that being in a woman’s arms was where she belonged. It gave her some measure of comfort to know at least one thing about herself. “Yes, I’d really like that, too.”

“Okay, friend,” Trystan took Alexa’s hand. “How’d you like to walk to the water with me? I can show you one of my favorite hiding spots.”

Alexa smiled. “That sounds perfect.”

They walked in silence for a distance, Trystan still maintaining her hold on Alexa’s hand.

Alexa chuckled, prompting Trystan to bring them to a halt and face her. “What are you laughing about?”

“It seems to me that normally this would be the time when people would get to know each other, except you already know as much about me as I do.”

When Trystan looked in Alexa’s eyes, she saw amusement but also a glimmer of real fear. She tried to keep the moment light by laughing, too.

“I hadn’t thought of it that way, but I guess I do, at that.”

“Okay, so tell me about you,” Alexa said, as they resumed their walk.

“There’s not much to tell, really. I’m an only child born to a young mother, and I’ve lived on the reservation most of my life, off and on.”

Alexa bit her lip, considering how personal she wanted to get, then simply decided to go for it. “Where’s your father?”

Trystan stopped momentarily and looked at her. “Boy, you don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

Alexa blushed. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to. I probably shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business.”

“No, that’s all right.” Trystan shrugged. “I don’t have any idea who my father is. My mother never talks about him. All she’ll say is that it was a youthful indiscretion while she was in medical school.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ve had a great life. My mother is wonderful—tough when she has to be and the best friend I’ve ever had.”

Lynn Ames

“You’re very beautiful. I wonder what nationality your father was.”

Trystan shrugged. “I’ll probably never know. Not that I haven’t thought about it a time or twenty, but my mother won’t give even a whisper of a hint.”

“I’m sure she has her reasons,” Alexa said gently. “I can’t imagine she would keep that from you to hurt you.”

“No, that she would never do. She’s always done everything in her power to protect me.”

Alexa decided to switch gears. “You said you’ve lived on the reservation off and on. Where else have you been?”

Trystan regarded Alexa shrewdly. “I’m beginning to think you must have been a reporter. You certainly have a way of getting your subject to answer tough questions.”

Alexa’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

Trystan jumped in. “You haven’t.” She squeezed the hand she was holding a little harder. “It’s just that no one’s ever taken that much of an interest in me before.”

Alexa frowned. “I find that hard to believe. You’re sweet, you’re attractive, you’re intelligent.”

“Careful, Alexa. A girl could get a swelled head around you.”

“Yeah, right. So,” Alexa drew the word out, “back to the question.

Where, other than the reservation, have you lived?”

“Okay, I can see you’re not going to let this one go, are you?”

“Nope.” Alexa’s eyes twinkled.

“When I first realized I was a two-spirit…”

“A what?”

“When I first figured out that I was a lesbian. You do know what that is, right?”

Alexa laughed. “Sarcasm will get you nowhere, woman. Out with it—pun intended.”

Trystan groaned at the awful play on words. “Let’s just say there isn’t much action here on the reservation in the middle of nowhere. My mother could see that she was losing me. I was restless and looking for trouble. She sent me away to boarding school and then college.”

“And then?”

“Then I came back here.” Trystan paused and sat down on a rock, pulling Alexa in front of her. “But I realized this wasn’t the place for me.”

Alexa’s legs grew warm with the heat from Trystan’s body, and there was an unfamiliar fluttering in the pit of her stomach. She found her voice with difficulty. “Then what are you doing here?”

Trystan worked hard to control herself. All she wanted was to take this woman in her arms and make love to her. But she could see alarm in The Value of Valor

the deep, sea green eyes, and she decided not to push her luck. There would be time. “I, um, I went back to school and became a physician’s assistant, but there aren’t many calls for them yet since it’s a pretty new profession, and I couldn’t find a job. So I came back a couple of months ago temporarily until I can find something.”

“I’m sure you will.” Alexa’s senses were on overload; she felt overwhelmed by Trystan’s proximity. Unsure why she was feeling this way, she followed her instincts, breaking contact between their bodies. “I think we’d better head back now.”

“Okay,” Trystan said softly. “Anything you want.”

They walked the short distance back to Terri’s small cottage without saying a word. When they were on the front step, Trystan leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on Alexa’s cheek. “Thank you for today, Alexa. I had a marvelous time.”

“Me too, Trystan. I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

Trystan watched as Alexa practically ran inside the house. She knew she was completely smitten with the woman and fought with herself not to follow her inside. “Slowly, Trystan. You’ve got to move very slowly with her.” But she wasn’t sure if her heart or her body would obey.

She returned to her own house, unable to keep thoughts and visions of Alexa at bay. With a sigh, she lay down on her bed. Lazily, she turned over in her mind again the feeling of carrying Alexa to the bed the day the man had come asking questions about her, the softness of her skin, the silkiness of her hair, and the beauty of her smile.

Without conscious thought, Trystan began running her fingers up the insides of her thighs, seeing herself in her mind’s eye lost in a passionate embrace with Alexa, their mouths questing, bodies quivering with desire, hands exploring each other with unbridled need.

Trystan’s hand reached her own center, and she dipped two fingers in the wetness she’d known she would find there. Reluctantly, she gave in and allowed her imagination to run wild.

There was Alexa, leaning over her, her sea green eyes gone black with desire. Trystan moaned as she imagined feeling soft, pliant breasts brushing against hers. She brought a hand up and smoothed a palm over her hardening nipple. “Oh, Alexa.”

Trystan’s eyes closed, and a vision of Alexa kissing her way down her body turned her liquid center to a river of lava. She squeezed her clitoris, picturing Alexa’s mouth hot and hungry on her. She stroked her center, and it was Alexa’s fingers she imagined. “Oh, God. Oh, Alexa.

Oh.” The words burst forth like a prayer as Trystan came hard.

As her breathing slowed and evened out, Trystan smiled into her pillow. Within seconds, she drifted off to sleep.

Lynn Ames

“President Hyland?” Vicky Winston, the president’s personal secretary, stuck her head into the Oval Office. She’d been with him since the early days in New York and knew him better than almost anybody in the White House.

“Yes, Vicky, what is it?” The president had his nose buried in a stack of papers on his desk, his hair sticking up at odd angles where his hand had been running through it.

“Vice President Wheeler is here to see you.”

The president grunted. Alton Wheeler was, in Charles Hyland’s opinion, a pompous blowhard with the intelligence of a hamster, although the comparison would be insulting to the rodent. The former Alabama senator and good ol’ boy had been thrust upon him as a running mate by the chairman of the Democratic National Committee, backed by the more conservative Southern wing of the party. “Well, that’ll make it a perfect end to a perfect day,” the president muttered under his breath.

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Send him in, Vicky.”

“Yes, sir. Oh, and don’t forget, Mr. President, you’ve scheduled dinner this evening in the residence with Press Secretary Kyle.”

“That’s right.” The president’s face brightened. At least he could count on some good conversation over supper.

A moment later, the door opened and Vicky announced the vice president.

“Come in, Al.” The president stood, a false smile plastered on his face. “What can I do for you this fine evening?”

“Evenin’, Mr. President,” Wheeler boomed in his thick Southern drawl. “I was thinking it was about time to discuss my role around here.”

He held up his hand to forestall the president’s answer. “Now I know we haven’t always been on the same side on a whole bunch of issues, but I expect even you realize you can’t run a government without a vice president.”

Want to bet, you smug idiot? The president sat back down, leaned back in his chair, and folded his hands on the desk in front of him. “Let me tell you what I know, Al. The American people elected us as a team with the expectation that together we would keep them safe, bring them prosperity, and protect their rights as free citizens.”

“Amen to that, which is why I’m here. Now I see myself—”

It was rare that the president lost his temper, but it had been a very long and difficult day. He sprang forward so quickly that his visitor was forced to back away from the desk. “The voters of this great country have selected me to lead this team—not you, Al. Me. There is only one president. That means I set the agenda, I call the shots. Your job will be The Value of Valor

to reinforce the choices and decisions I make. No surprises from you, no headline-grabbing remarks, no policy statements that haven’t been cleared by me or my chief of staff, and your schedule is vetted by my scheduler. Am I making myself clear?”

The vice president’s face turned beet red. “I hear you. Now let me give you a little news flash. You wouldn’t be sitting in that fancy chair there without me, Pretty Boy. I suggest you remember that.”

“I wish I had the time to sit here and debate the matter with you, Mr.

Vice President,” he said the title with disgust, “but I have important matters to attend to. I’m sure you can find your way out.”

The door slammed with sufficient force to rattle the pictures on the walls.

“Well,” the president said to the blissfully empty room, “that was pleasant. This ought to be a fun-filled four years.” He turned his attention back to the large pile of papers in the center of his desk.

DNC Chairman Hawthorne swiveled in his chair, a small key in his hand. With it, he unlocked a hidden drawer in his desk and removed the contents: a single manila file folder. Typed neatly on the label was the name Alton Franklin Wheeler; on the face of the folder in large, red capital letters was the word “CONFIDENTIAL.”

Hawthorne opened the file to the first page and began to read.

“Investigation of the Mobile, Alabama, Police Department—June 28, 1941. In re: the death of three-year-old Bobbi Christina Wheeler.

Detectives have determined and coroner has confirmed that the girl was strangled and her body dumped in the family pond to make it appear like a drowning accident. Instrument of strangulation appears to be an athletic sock. Fibers found in the flesh of the victim’s neck contained white cotton and elastic. Interviews of family members revealed inconsistencies in the story of eight-year-old Alton Franklin Wheeler, the girl’s brother.

Further interrogation of the boy yielded a confession, as follows: I was riding my bike and Bobbi kept following me. I told her to go away, but she wouldn’t. Finally, I told her that if she didn’t leave me alone, I was going to kill her. She wouldn’t listen, so I took off one of my socks and wrapped it around her neck and pulled. She was waving her arms around for a bit, but after a while, she just quit. I panicked, figuring I would get a hiding from mama, so I dragged her to the pond and pushed her in to make it look like she done wandered off and fell in.

“Case disposition: After extensive discussions with U.S. Senator Franklin Templeton Wheeler, the boy’s father, no charges were filed, and Lynn Ames

the case was closed. All copies of any reports relating to the investigation have disappeared and are believed to have been destroyed.”

“All except this one,” Hawthorne smiled evilly. He had paid through the nose to procure the file through an old friend—a retired Mobile detective with whom he had served in the Army. The man, a green rookie on the squad when the child had died, had no trouble at all remembering the hefty sum the senior senator from Alabama had paid to make the case go away. The cop had taken the file as a souvenir of his indoctrination into the less-than-ethical practices of the Mobile police force.

Hawthorne pushed the button for the intercom. “Janice, has the vice president arrived yet?”

“Just coming through the door, sir.”

“Good. Please, send him in.”

Hawthorne stood as Al Wheeler strode confidently into the room.

“Mr. Vice President, so good of you to come.”

“I’ve got to tell you, Bob. That damn Yankee needs a good talking to.

Seems to think he can run the place all on his own and I should be some sort of lap dog. Well, he’s got another thing coming.”

Hawthorne grinned. This might go better than I anticipated. “I agree with you, Al. That’s why I’ve asked you here. I think you should be playing a larger policy role in this administration.”

“Damn straight I should. I thought that’s why you wanted me on the ticket.”

“It is, it is,” Hawthorne mollified the vice president. Or it might havebeen the bombshell of a skeleton in your closet. “Please, Al, sit down.”

“Wants me to goddamn run it by him every time I blow my nose, for Christ’s sake.” The big man dropped gracelessly into the chair opposite Hawthorne’s desk.

“I see you having a major impact on foreign policy, Al. After all, you were the chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee. You’re an expert.”

“Yes, sir.” The vice president puffed out his chest.

“What do you think about democracy in China?”

The vice president laughed. “Sounds like a fine idea to me, Bob, but I think Deng Xiaoping might object.”

“No doubt.” Hawthorne leaned forward. “What if we could achieve democracy in China and engineer it so that it looked like an internal rebellion?”

The vice president narrowed his eyes and steepled his fingers under his chin. “You’re serious?”

“Deadly.”

“Where is this coming from, Bob? And why are you talking to me about it instead of the president?”

The Value of Valor

Hawthorne shrugged nonchalantly. “I want to help you make your mark, and Charlie’s vision is limited—he doesn’t have the balls for this one.” He moved in for the kill. “Imagine what your legacy could be, Al, if you could be remembered as the modern-day father of world democracy. You could overshadow the president.” He could see the vice president trying to puzzle through the idea.

“But if we made it look like an internal revolution, no one would know I was behind it.”

“Don’t worry—I’ll make sure they know. History will remember you as a great man.”

“What do I need to do?”

Hawthorne smiled, pushing a piece of paper across the desk. He had the mechanism he needed in Wheeler, and the covert action was about to be unofficially-officially sanctioned. The Commission would be pleased.

“Call this number, identify yourself as a tourist interested in seeing Tiananmen Square, and ask if there are guided tours available. The person on the other end will respond that there aren’t any now, but there might be some in a few months. Tell him you’ll look forward to checking back with him then. After that, hang up.”

“Who will I be talking to?”

“Our CIA head of operations in China. Your conversation will give him the signal to go ahead with the plan.” The CIA station chief had been in the Commission’s pocket for years, having been caught by them in a compromising position with a foreign agent—a male foreign agent. He’d laid all the ground work to make the rebellion appear to be the work of disgruntled students—all that was necessary was a “go” from someone in the upper echelons of the government.

“You’ve already got a plan in place?”

“Yes, it just needs your approval.”

“Shouldn’t I know more about the details?”

“Respectfully, Al, it’s better if you don’t at this point. That way if anything goes wrong, you can legitimately disavow any knowledge of the plan.”

“I don’t know, Bob.”

Hawthorne was beginning to lose patience. “Al, every great leader delegates. That’s all you’re doing here.”

The vice president chewed the edge of his moustache. “I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am. You just leave the rest to me.”

“You’ll keep me posted?”

“Naturally.”

When he was gone, Hawthorne breathed a huge sigh of relief. The vice president was so wrapped up in his own ego it hadn’t occurred to Lynn Ames

him to wonder why the chairman of the DNC, with no government position, would be involved up to his eyeballs in a plan to bring about a pro-democracy revolution all the way across the world. Not only that, but Hawthorne hadn’t even had to use the folder—yet.

“Come in, Kate.” The president waved her into his private dining room. “No need to stand on ceremony with me, as you well know.”

Kate could sympathize with her boss’s desire to be less formal in private. Still she couldn’t help but be mindful of the Secret Service agents standing a short, though discreet, distance away and the fact that most of the rooms in the White House, even in the residence, were monitored by recording equipment. “Good evening, sir.”

He appraised his press secretary critically. It had been close to a month since Jay’s death. Kate’s face looked drawn, and she’d lost weight. She was still one of the most attractive women the president knew, but it was clear that she wasn’t taking care of herself.

“Kate, it’s good to see you.” He took her hand in both of his, noting that she still wore the diamond and sapphire ring he’d seen Jay slip on her finger at the commitment ceremony.

“And you, sir.”

He stared hard into her eyes. “I have to be honest.” He motioned to one of the dining room chairs, pulling it out for Kate. “I’m worried about you.”

She stopped in mid-motion just as she was about to sit. “Sir, if you’re not pleased with the job I’ve been doing…”

“No. It isn’t that at all. I’m concerned about how you’re doing personally.”

“Oh.” She finished seating herself and looked down at the table. “You don’t need to worry about me, sir. I’m fine.”

“Kate, you and I have known each other for a few years, haven’t we?”

“Yes, sir, we have.”

“Have I ever given you a reason to believe that I’m either dense or non-observant?”

“Of course not, sir.”

“Right. So how about if you give me a little credit for being a sensitive guy here and let’s dispense with the need to put up a façade, okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now then, Kate, how are you really doing?” He lowered his eyes until he reached her level, forcing her to make eye contact.

“I’m getting by, sir. Every day is a struggle, but I’m so busy I’m sometimes able to keep thoughts of Jay out of my head.” She paused and The Value of Valor

took a deep breath. “Every night is unbearable, and I wonder if I’ll make it until morning.”

“I’m sure.” He patted her hand sympathetically. “Are you getting any sleep at all?”

Kate shrugged. “Some.”

“Are you eating? Because it looks to me like you’ve lost some weight.” He held up his hand. “I know that’s not any of my business and maybe it could even be considered inappropriate coming from your boss.

But I’d like to think our relationship goes beyond that and you consider me a friend. I want you to understand how much I care. Heck, if my wife asks me one more time when I’m going to have you to dinner, I’m going to scream.”

Kate laughed.

“She’s sorry, by the way, that she couldn’t be here tonight. She’s off touring an innovative new program for crack babies in New York.”

“Please tell her I’m sorry I missed her, as well. And no offense taken about the personal questions. I’m proud to call you a friend, sir, and I’m touched by your concern.”

“I note, Ms. Kyle, that you still haven’t answered the question.”

“Sir,” she gave him her best ingenuous look, “you pay me to be evasive.”

The president laughed. “Don’t go starting that rumor. I’m paying you to tell the truth—our version of it, to be sure, but the truth nonetheless.”

“Point taken.”

There was a pause in the conversation as several servers appeared with trays of food.

“Have you heard anything from Peter lately?”

“I talked to him this morning, sir. He’s been working with the boys at Quantico for weeks now, trying to sift through what little evidence there was.”

The president made a sympathetic noise. He could only imagine how he would feel if it had been his wife in the car and there had been next to nothing left. He shuddered.

Kate went on, oblivious to the president’s thoughts. “He says he’s come up with something solid, and he’s coming back tomorrow to tell me about it in person.”

“He wouldn’t tell you over the phone?”

“No, and believe me, I tried.” The only thing she knew for sure was that whatever it was, it wouldn’t bring Jay back.

The president silently noted the looked of abject sadness that crossed Kate’s face. “I hope you’ll keep me informed, Kate. I want to know.”

“Thank you, sir. I will.”

Lynn Ames

“Sir, I hate to interrupt…” A Secret Service agent approached and whispered in the president’s ear.

“Will you excuse me for a moment?” he asked Kate.

“Of course, sir.”

The president left the dining room and walked across the hall to his study, accompanied by the agent. “You’re sure he said he was Anton Anobly?”

“Absolutely, sir. I asked him three times.”

“Very well, thank you,” the president said absently. The agent backed into the shadows as the president moved to the phone on the desk. He had never expected to hear that code name again. It was one he and his best friend Keith Keniston had made up in college in case they were ever in trouble and needed to be bailed out.

“President Hyland here.”

“Charlie? It’s Keith. Sorry for the cloak and dagger routine, but I wanted to be extra careful.”

“What is it, buddy? It must be pretty important for you to sniff me out.” Last he had heard from Keith, he was applying for a job with the CIA. They had laughed about it at the time—Keith had always liked the world of shadows.

“I think it is.”

Hyland heard his friend’s hesitation and wondered what could be making him that nervous. “Keith? This is a secure line. Whatever you have to say, it’s just you and me. Okay?”

“Yeah, thanks. Charlie, are you trying to start a war in China?”

“What?” The president was completely befuddled.

“Yeah, that’s kind of what I figured. Didn’t sound like something you’d do—at least not a month into your first term.”

“What are you talking about?” the president asked.

“You know I’m the number two spook in Asia now, right?”

“No, I didn’t. Congratulations, I guess. Sounds like it’s right up your alley.”

“It is. I got a strange order today from my station chief. He gave a green light to set in motion a ‘student-led rebellion.’ Said the order came right from the top. Maybe I’m getting cynical in my old age, Charlie, but it didn’t smell right to me; it’s not your style.”

“I’m glad to see your instincts are still sharp, my friend. I certainly didn’t give any such order, nor did I sanction any action whatsoever in China.”

“What do you want me to do here?”

The president weighed his options. He knew he could countermand the order right away, but then he might not get to the bottom of whatever was happening and whoever was behind it. “Don’t do anything for the The Value of Valor

moment. Somebody gave that order, and I want to know who it was and why. I’ll try to get to the bottom of it on this end. What was the timetable for this little revolution?”

“We were supposed to start planting the seeds now, with the main event beginning in April.”

“Okay. If anything more comes up and you need to get in touch with me, use the same protocol. In the meantime, follow your orders, but take your time implementing them, if you know what I mean.”

Keith laughed. “Yeah, I always was good at dragging my feet.”

“As I recall, you majored in foot dragging.”

“Just because you were Mr. Motivated is no reason to go picking on us more deliberate types.”

“Sure it is.” There was a momentary silence on the line before the president spoke again. “Hey, Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for coming to me on this one. I really appreciate it.”

“Well, if we’re going to start World War Three, I want to know that our commander in chief is the one who’s making the call.”

“Having me as your president must scare the living bejeebers out of you.”

“Seriously, Charlie, I find it very comforting. I couldn’t think of a better man to have at the helm, and I’m honored to serve under your command.”

“Thanks, buddy. Good luck and God speed.”

“You too, Mr. President.”

When he severed the connection, the president sat for a moment thinking. If someone inside his inner circle was giving orders that could change the balance of world power, he wanted to know about it. But he also didn’t want to tip his hand just yet. Suddenly, he remembered that he’d left Kate sitting in the dining room. He got up and crossed the hall again. If there was one single person in the administration he trusted above all others, it was Kate.

“I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“That’s quite all right, Mr. President. I don’t want to be in your way.”

“On the contrary, Ms. Kyle, I always enjoy your company, as you know, and I’m glad you’re here.” He looked down at his cold steak and sighed. “Well, at least dessert ought to be good. I seem to remember you had a particular fondness for chocolate mousse.”

Chocolate mousse was Jay’s favorite dessert, and the mention of it sent a pang to her gut. Still Kate managed to maintain a neutral expression. “Yes, it’s one of my favorites.”

The president motioned one of the servers to clear his plate and bring in the dessert. He also asked the Secret Service agents, over their Lynn Ames

protests, to wait outside the room. When they were gone, he pressed a button under the table to turn off the recording equipment before speaking. “I want to bounce something off you, and I need it to stay just between the two of us.”

“You know you can rely on my discretion, Mr. President,” Kate said.

“I certainly do. That phone call I took a few minutes ago was from an old college buddy of mine. He’s the CIA’s number two man in the Pan Pacific region. I haven’t talked to him in years.”

Kate studied the president’s face. He was clearly troubled. “I take it this wasn’t a social call.”

“No, it wasn’t.” He looked up at her. “He was calling to tell me that someone very high up in my administration authorized inciting a pro-democracy revolution in China.”

“What?” Her tone was incredulous.

“Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction, too. He was given the order to set the wheels in motion this afternoon. It didn’t sound right to him, so he thought he’d better go to the top and check it out.”

“Good thing you’ve got friends in interesting places.”

“I guess so,” the president said contemplatively. “If Keith wasn’t over there, the first I might’ve heard of U.S. involvement would’ve been when the Chinese government demanded an explanation.” The president paused, recognizing the full implications of his next words. “And that would’ve been right before they launched their missiles on North America.”

Chilled by the possibilities, Kate asked, “If you didn’t give the order, sir, who did? And why?”

“Exactly what I’m wondering. Which is why I didn’t stop the action—just asked Keith to slow it down a little. I need to do some digging on this end without anybody getting suspicious.”

“You probably don’t want to assign it internally since you don’t know how deep this thing goes.”

“Precisely.” The president paused for a moment. “Any chance you could send Peter my way when you’re done with him tomorrow, Kate?”

“I thought that might be where you were headed. I’m sure I could arrange it. I could send him here before he comes to see me, if you’d like, sir.”

“No, I want you to get your answers first. I’ll have Vicky squeeze him in whenever he arrives.”

“Very well, sir.”

“Whatever this is, it’s worrisome. As I said, I’d like to keep it just between us for now.”

“Of course, Mr. President.”

The Value of Valor

“I’m glad I could share that with you, Kate. You make a great sounding board, as always. It gets pretty lonely sometimes at the top.”

“I’m sure, sir. Any time. For now, though, I think I’d better get home and at least pretend to get some sleep.”

The president looked at his watch: 11:13 p.m. “Wow. I’m sorry. I had no idea it was so late.”

“Thank you for inviting me to dinner, Mr. President, I enjoyed it.”

“Me too, Kate. Let’s make it a standing appointment once a week when I’m in town, okay?”

“That would be wonderful, sir.”

“Stay safe.”

“You too, Mr. President. Good night.” She stepped out of the dining room and was escorted out of the residence by a Secret Service agent.

Lynn Ames

CHAPTER FIVE

eter strode into FBI Deputy Director Derek LaPointe’s office and P stood over his desk.

Without breaking concentration, LaPointe motioned to a chair. “Sit down, Peter. I’ll just be another minute.” When he had finished reading the report on his desk, he glanced up to see Peter still standing, a gleam in his eye. “I’ve seen that look before, Enright. You’ve got something.”

Peter dropped a red folder onto his friend’s desk. Never one to waste time, he got right to the point. “Deliberately scored tie rod. I found it shortly after we last spoke and sent it to your guys at Quantico. They finally got around to analyzing it and confirmed that the damage to the rod was sufficient to cause it to break. The car would’ve been uncontrollable.”

“Murder?”

“So it would appear.”

LaPointe opened the folder and scanned the contents. “Not a very large sample.”

Peter’s temper flared, his face turning red. “There wasn’t much to find. The car was obliterated. The segment I discovered turned out to be the critical piece, though. Your guys had no doubt.”

“Easy, Peter. I’m not disagreeing with you. I’m on your side, remember?”

“You weren’t last time I was here.”

LaPointe sighed. “You and I both know there wasn’t enough evidence to go on then. Now you’ve given me something solid to work with—a smoking gun, if you will.”

“So you’ll reopen the investigation?”

“Absolutely. I’ll put some of my agents back on it today.”

“I want to work with them.”

“Out of the question.”

Peter, his emotions still raw when it came to Jay, exploded. “Listen, Derek. There wouldn’t be an investigation to reopen if it weren’t for me.

Your guys didn’t care enough to really examine the scene properly. If they had, they would’ve turned the goddamned tie rod up, and I wouldn’t have had to come back here begging you to change your findings. We’ve The Value of Valor

lost precious time, and leads are getting colder by the day. None of this is going to bring Jay back, but I will not be stuck sitting on the sidelines on this one. I won’t.”

The deputy director tipped back in his chair. In all the time they’d spent together in Vietnam, including in some very tight spots, he had never seen this man lose his cool. “Are you done with your little tirade?”

He paused and continued quietly, “It hurts me that you don’t trust me to do my job right, Peter.”

“It wasn’t you out in the field, Derek. If it had been, I’m sure you would have found the evidence.” Peter’s voice was much calmer, though still flinty.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, I think.” LaPointe considered, weighing the pros and cons in his head. Peter was not some rank amateur trying to horn in on his investigation. He had credentials and years of experience. He also knew the victim, was too personally involved, and allowing a civilian to take part in an ongoing case was against protocol.

“Well?”

LaPointe threw up his hands in surrender. The president himself had instructed the FBI to give Peter priority clearance and assistance with anything he needed. Who was he to stand in the way? “I’ll have you coordinate with Dave Darasio—he’s the best I’ve got. You can meet with him now, if you like. He’s just down the hall.”

“Thanks, Derek. I appreciate it.”

As Peter got up to go, LaPointe called after him, “Don’t make me regret this, Enright.”

Peter simply smiled, closing the door behind him with a satisfying snick.

Kate opened the door to admit Peter, who immediately enveloped her in a heartfelt hug. They hadn’t seen each other since he’d left for Arizona several weeks before, although they’d stayed in touch by telephone.

He pulled back and looked at her. “I thought part of our deal was that you were going to take care of yourself while I was gone, Katherine Ann.”

Kate had thought she had things pretty much under control, but seeing her best friend standing there, knowing where he’d been and that he’d returned without Jay, shattered her fragile composure.

He held her and rocked her as she sobbed, his own tears running into her hair. Eventually, they both quieted, and he moved away from her enough to take her hands and lead her to the sofa.

“I’m sorry. I thought I was past that.” She smiled weakly. “I guess not, huh?”

Lynn Ames

“That’s okay, I think we both needed a good cry.” Peter leaned over to pet Fred, who was insistently throwing Peter’s hand up in the air in an effort to gain attention. “Yeah, you spoiled beast, I missed you, too.”

Fred sat down on Peter’s foot as soon as Peter began scratching him behind the ears. “I hate when he does that, you know. He’s got a bony butt.”

“Tell me about it.” Kate rolled her eyes, then focused on her friend.

“What did you find? You said you had news.” Her tone was guarded.

“Remember I told you I found a small piece of metal under some dirt and rocks at the crash site?”

“Yes.”

“It was a piece of a tie rod.” At her blank look, he explained further, in simple terms. “It’s connected to the steering mechanism. If a tie rod is worn or damaged, it can cause erratic steering or loss of control of the wheels.”

“Okay.”

“I gave the piece to the FBI for testing; I heard back from them yesterday. There’s evidence to indicate that someone tampered with the tie rods on Jay’s car.”

Kate’s heart constricted. “But it was a rental. How would they know which car to fix?”

“Good question. My guess is they were close enough to overhear which car she was assigned, then created a distraction to delay her for a few minutes. It looks like they used a blow torch or a grinder on the rod to weaken it, so it wouldn’t have taken long for them to accomplish their goal.”

Kate’s face turned ashen. There it was—Jay had been murdered in cold blood. “So Jay couldn’t steer the car?”

He reached for her hand, wanting in some way to soothe her. “She probably could for a while, until the steering was stressed.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means they likely followed her until she got to that canyon, then chased her hard into a curve, knowing the steering would give way and she wouldn’t be able to control the car.”

Kate’s throat was tight, and she was finding it difficult to breathe.

“They forced her over the edge.”

“In a fashion, yes.”

“God.” Kate covered her eyes with her free hand. “Poor Jay,” she whispered, trying to imagine her lover’s terror when she realized what was happening.

“Kate,” Peter wanted to bring her back from that awful place. “I’ve gotten the FBI to reopen the investigation. Not only that, but I’m going to The Value of Valor

be spearheading it with a guy named Dave Darasio. I met with him earlier today. He’s a good man and he’ll do a good job.”

Kate simply nodded, unable to say anything.

“I need you to think, honey. Who knew Jay was going to Arizona?

Who was familiar with her itinerary?”

“Nobody. It came up at the last second. Even I didn’t know until we were on our way to the Inaugural Ball the night before she was leaving.”

“Her editor knew, right?”

Kate’s eyes snapped back from staring off into space. “Trish would never…”

“I agree,” Peter said, before she could even finish her sentence. “Did Jay talk to anyone else about her trip from the time she found out about it until the time she left?”

“I don’t know.”

“Think, Kate. This is important.”

“I know it is.”

“Did she make her own travel arrangements?”

“Yes. She always complained about the number of layovers on flights booked by Time’s travel agency.” Kate ran her fingers through her hair in exasperation. “I think she mentioned the assignment to the president at the ball when he tried to hire her away from the magazine.”

Peter smiled. “I think it’s safe to rule him out. Could anyone have overheard the conversation?”

Kate thought. “Sure. There were hundreds of people there. Anybody could have heard her if they were close enough.”

“Okay.” He squeezed her hands for a second longer and let go. “That gives me a place to start.”

“It does?”

“Yeah. I need to run a check on everyone who attended that ball. It was by invitation only, right?”

“Yes. It was a thank you to some of the president’s biggest supporters.”

“So anyone who gave enough money to the campaign would’ve gotten an invitation?”

“Right.”

“I’ll get going on this right away and let you know the second I come up with anything.” Peter rose to leave.

As Kate uncoiled from the sofa, she suddenly remembered. “Wait!

Before you do that, the president needs to see you right away.”

“Do you know what it’s about?”

She shook her head. “I’d rather he filled you in, Technowiz.”

“Okay, I’ll head right over there. Should I call and let someone know I’m coming?”

Lynn Ames

“No need. He’s already cleared you, and his secretary knows to interrupt him when you arrive.”

“Must be pretty important, huh?”

“You could say that.”

He gave Fred one last scratch and Kate a hug, promised again to be in touch soon, then was gone.

It took Peter less than twenty minutes to gain admittance to the Oval Office. “Mr. President, it’s good to see you again.” He stood stiffly and gripped the president’s proffered hand.

“Peter, thanks for coming on such short notice.”

“Of course, sir. What can I do for you?”

“No need to be so formal. Sit down, make yourself comfortable. Do you need something to drink? Water?”

“Thank you, sir, I’m fine.”

The president took a deep breath. “I’ll get right to the point then. Did Kate tell you anything?”

“No, sir. She thought whatever it was should come from you.”

The president shook his head. “That woman is truly remarkable, isn’t she? Everything she’s been through in the past two years—I think they’d have to have locked me away in a rubber room by now.”

“Kate is a very strong person, sir. I don’t want to say she’s indestructible because none of us are, but she’s about as close as it gets.”

“I’m worried about her, Peter.”

“Me too, sir.”

“She said you had some news for her today.”

Peter nodded. “I found a piece of one of the tie rods while I was searching the crash site. The FBI confirmed that the rod had been doctored; they’re reopening the case as a murder investigation.”

“Dear God in Heaven. Poor Jay.” The president looked up at Peter.

“Poor Kate. How’d she take the news?”

“Hard, sir, about how you’d expect. But as I said, she’s tough. She’ll make it through.”

It was the president’s turn to nod. “Any idea who might have done such a thing?”

Peter smiled ironically. “Since you asked, sir…the only place where Jay mentioned that she would be going to Arizona was at the Inaugural Ball where you offered her a job.” Peter could see that the president was trying to remember.

“I seem to recall joking around with Jay about coming to work for me. I told her she’d love the terrible hours, low pay, and demanding boss.

She said she’d rather stay where she was. Then I think she said she was going off on assignment the next day—to Arizona.”

The Value of Valor

“That’s what Kate said also. Sir, I don’t suppose you can remember who might have been within earshot when you were having that conversation, can you?”

President Hyland appeared to think hard for several moments before shaking his head. “I wish I could, Peter. There were so many people there, and the music was so loud. Honestly, the whole night’s a blur.”

“That’s okay, sir. But if there’s any way I could get access to a list of guests for that particular ball, that would go a long way toward helping me find whoever did this to Jay.”

“Of course, give me a second.” The president picked up the phone, punched in several numbers, and spoke quietly into the receiver. When he hung up seconds later, he said to Peter, “You’ll have your list by the time you leave here.” He paused. “Those ball invitations are given out as a thank you to some of our biggest contributors. I’d hate like hell to think one of them had something to do with Jay’s death.”

“I won’t know until I’ve checked them all out, but I’ll be sure to keep you informed.”

“Yes, please do.” The president shuffled some papers on his desk.

“Now for the reason I asked you here.”

Peter waited, watching a series of emotions pass across the president’s face.

“I got a disturbing phone call last night from an old friend. He’s the Agency’s second in command on the ground in Asia.” The president fidgeted with a paperweight before continuing. “Seems somebody with some clout in this administration gave the go-ahead to stage an internal rebellion in China.”

“That’s interesting.”

“Only trouble is, I didn’t know anything about it before my buddy filled me in.”

“You want to know who gave the order, why, and who else knows.”

“Something like that. And I can’t do it from within because I don’t know how deep this runs. Since the order was given directly to the station chief, it seems like there could be Agency involvement. If so, I didn’t want to tip them off that I was on to the plan.”

“Makes sense. I take it that’s why I’m here.”

“Afraid so, Peter. I know I can trust your discretion, and I further know that you’ll find the rat for me. I have an idea who it might be, but I don’t want to let my personal feelings get in the way.”

“I’m listening.”

“I had a ‘discussion’ yesterday with our illustrious vice president.”

The president tried, without success, to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

Peter raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Lynn Ames

“I wasn’t all that diplomatic with the idiot.” The president looked at Peter and smiled. “See, I do trust your discretion.”

“Understood. I appreciate that, sir.”

“I pretty much told him that if he wanted to shine his shoes, he’d have to run it by me first.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking I might have bruised his ego a bit. So maybe he thought he’d show me that he’s not to be trifled with. What do you think?”

Peter shrugged noncommittally. “It’s possible. If you want, I’ll begin with the vice president and work my way down the list.”

“Good enough. What do you need from me?”

“A copy of the vice president’s schedule for last week and this week would be helpful, for starters. And your permission to use whatever means I deem necessary to get answers.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I may have to bug his office, look at his phone records for the past month. Things like that.”

“Done. Anything else you need?”

“That’s all I can think of for now. If I come up with anything else, how would you like me to contact you?”

“Tell Kate you need to see me. That way, there won’t be any record of our meeting after today. Or you can use my private line if you think it’s safe.” He handed Peter the number.

“Very well, sir. I’ll be in touch as soon as I have anything.”

“Good luck, Peter. Obviously, time is of the essence here.”

“I know, sir. I’m on it.” On his way out the door, Vicky Winston handed him an envelope. When Peter glanced at the label, it said, “Ball

#8 guests.” Peter smiled at the executive assistant and thanked her for her efficiency before heading directly to his rented condominium. He had work to do.

Alexa stepped out onto Terri’s small porch and took a deep breath of the chilled morning air. The healer had helped her dress before walking over to the clinic to tend to several patients. It felt good to be on her own for a few minutes. Terri and Trystan had been wonderfully solicitous, but Alexa craved some time by herself. She sat down on the front step and turned her face to the sun, soaking up its healing rays.

A shadow momentarily blocked the brightness, and she opened her eyes, blinking when she saw a young man standing over her. He looked nervous; he was shifting from foot to foot, clasping and unclasping his hands.

The Value of Valor

Alexa smiled at him. “Can I help you?” She estimated him to be a little younger than Trystan, long and lean.

“I-I wanted to say I’m glad you’re all right.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that. What’s your name?”

“I’m Tommy. I’m one of the guys who pulled you out of the wreck.”

Alexa stood and put a hand on his arm, a look of gratitude in her eyes.

“Then I certainly owe you more than just a thank you. From what I hear, you saved my life.”

Tommy smiled at her for a second, then his face grew serious.

“Whoever those men were, I’m glad they didn’t succeed.”

“Men? Succeed at what, Tommy?”

“At killing you, of course.” Tommy seemed to be perplexed by her questions.

Alexa’s face went pale. “K-killing me? What men?”

Tommy looked exceedingly uncomfortable. “They didn’t tell you?”

“Start from the beginning, please.”

His eyes looked around wildly. “I probably shouldn’t be talking to you.”

“Of course you should. Now tell me about these men and the accident.”

Tommy explained everything that had happened, with the exception of the fact that there had been a second woman in the car. Since shortly after the accident, he hadn’t been able to talk about seeing that poor woman impaled.

Alexa reached up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You’re my hero, you know that?”

The boy blushed scarlet, completely smitten. “I’ve got to go now, ma’am. I’m late for work.”

“I’m sorry to have kept you, but thank you for telling me, Tommy. I owe you my life.”

When he was gone, Alexa reached out to the railing for support; her head was spinning. People had tried to kill her. Terri and Trystan knew about it and had kept it from her. Her presence might be putting the entire reservation at risk, according to Tommy’s recap of the elders’ council meeting. Alexa did the only thing she could think of: she ran.

Her head, arm, and chest ached as she stumbled off the street and down toward the stream where Trystan had taken her previously. She was off balance as a result of her head injury, and having her arm restrained by a sling didn’t help. Each breath she took resulted in a renewed wave of pain and nausea, but Alexa ignored all that. Mostly, she felt numb and confused.

Eventually, she was forced to stop, her injuries getting the better of her. She looked around for the first time and discovered that she was lost; Lynn Ames

she’d never been this far from the clinic or Terri’s house before, and she hadn’t been paying attention to her route. She sat down heavily on a nearby rock. What did it matter? The tribe was better off without her continued presence. If she wasn’t on the reservation, the danger would be gone for them.

Tears leaked from her eyes, and she let them come. For weeks, she had wondered in a vacuum about who and what she was. Perhaps she’d been better off not knowing. She hung her head, totally dejected. Of all the scenarios she had envisioned, being someone whom others wanted to kill wasn’t on the list.

Questions hummed in Alexa’s head like a swarm of angry bees. Who was she? Was she a good person or bad? What had she done in her life to warrant assassins coming after her? No answers would come. Tired, physically hurting, and emotionally drained, Alexa lay down on the rock and closed her eyes, willing the whole nightmare to be over.

Trystan knocked on the clinic door at 4:00 p.m. “Where’s Alexa?

You hiding her in here?”

Terri swept stray strands of hair from her face. “I assumed she was with you. You two have been spending a lot of time together lately.”

“I haven’t seen her all day.”

“Did you check the house?”

“Yes, and down by the creek, too.” Trystan’s voice reflected her growing concern.

Terri set aside the bandages she was arranging on a surgical tray and devoted her full attention to Trystan. “Did you check the bedroom? Are you sure she wasn’t taking a nap?”

“Positive.”

“Let’s go look together.” Terri led the way out of the clinic and across the street. On the way, she bumped into Jason and Kenny, two of the young men who had rescued Alexa from the car.

“Hi, boys.”

“Hi,” both men said at once.

Kenny, who knew Terri better than Jason, offered, “We were glad to hear that woman is feeling better.”

“Yes, thanks to you boys, I think she’ll be just fine.”

Jason added, “She called Tommy a hero and kissed him on the cheek.”

Trystan tried to clamp down on a sudden surge of jealousy at the thought of Alexa kissing anyone else, even platonically. “When did she do that, Jason?”

“This morning. He ran into her sitting on your mother’s porch,”

Kenny offered.

The Value of Valor

“What exactly did Tommy tell her?”

Both men shrugged. “Don’t know, ma’am,” Jason said, “but Tommy seemed to think she walked on water after that.”

Trystan jumped in, “Where is Tommy now?”

“Over at his place helping his father, I think.”

“Thanks,” Trystan called over her shoulder, as she and her mother took off at a jog in the direction of Tommy’s house.

When they arrived, Tommy was underneath a pickup truck changing the oil.

“Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“We’d like to talk to you.”

The boy wheeled himself out from under the chassis. “What can I do for you?”

“Jason and Kenny say you saw Alexa this morning,” Terri began, as calmly as she could.

“Who?”

“The woman from the crash,” Trystan threw in impatiently.

“Oh, yeah.” The young man grinned goofily. “She’s very nice. Called me her hero.”

“Why would she say that? Did you have a conversation?” Terri interjected before her daughter could speak.

Tommy appeared suddenly uneasy, as if he was wondering if he was in trouble. “Um, yes, we did. She asked about the accident.”

“What did you tell her?” Trystan ground out between clenched teeth.

Tommy, who seemed a little frightened by Trystan’s fierce eyes, addressed Terri instead. “I told her what happened when we found her and about the meeting of the council.”

As Trystan coiled like a snake ready to strike, Terri reached out and put a restraining hand on her arm. “So you told her people tried to kill her?”

Tommy looked at his shoes and whispered, “Yes, ma’am. But only because she asked.”

“Did you tell her about the dead woman?”

“N-no. I-I couldn’t…”

“That’s okay, Tommy.” Terri’s tone was soothing. “What did you tell her about the council meeting?”

“I told her the elders ruled that she should be welcomed here and allowed to heal under our protection.”

Trystan growled low in her throat, and Terri squeezed the arm she was still holding.

“What was her reaction, Tommy?” Terri asked kindly.

Lynn Ames

He shrugged. “She seemed kind of surprised but okay. She thanked me for telling her.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know. I went on my way. I don’t know what she did.”

“Thank you. Good luck with the car.”

“Oh, this old beauty? She’ll run forever.” He seemed to brighten as the subject changed, perhaps thinking he wasn’t in too much trouble after all.

As Terri hurried away with Trystan on her heels, the healer said,

“Alexa wasn’t mentally or emotionally ready to digest that information. I knew that, it’s why I hadn’t told her and insisted you not tell her, either. I didn’t foresee someone outside of us taking the decision out of our hands. This is not good.”

“No kidding. Amá, what do you think she’d do, knowing what she does at this point?”

Terri spared her daughter a glance. They were both breathing hard as they ran. “It’s difficult to say with any certainty. I’m sure it was quite a shock to her. Remember that she knew nothing of herself before today.

This is a difficult first piece of information to swallow. I may not know who or what Alexa was before, but I can see and feel the goodness in her soul. That’s something held so deep within the spirit that not even amnesia can wipe it out. I find it hard to see her as the target of murderers. I’m guessing she’s having the same trouble and is struggling with the information.”

“Amá, that woman is as good and pure as it gets. It radiates off her in waves.”

“I know, Acheehen. That’s why I’m so worried about what this morning’s news might lead her to do.”

“We’ve got to find her.”

“Yes. The sooner the better.”

The Value of Valor

CHAPTER SIX

e’re not getting anywhere this way.” Trystan blew out a

“W frustrated breath. “We’ve been looking for hours.”

Darkness was almost upon them; both Trystan and Terri were frantic and frazzled.

“If you have a suggestion, I’m willing to listen.” Terri was worried about the forecast and the fact that Alexa would freeze if she were out overnight. The temperature was predicted to dip down into the low twenties.

Grasping at straws, Trystan offered, “We could get others involved, put together teams, and comb the canyon floor.”

Terri shook her head. “I’ve been trying so hard to limit Alexa’s exposure to others. The fewer people who know of her, the less likely that someone could mention her presence to the wrong people.”

“Amá,” Trystan’s tone was incredulous. “It’s not like our community is so big. Do you honestly believe there’s anyone on this part of the reservation who doesn’t know about her?”

“I don’t know. I’ve just tried so hard to protect her. I haven’t even let folks see what she looks like.” And now she’s out here somewhere indanger of freezing to death.

“I know you have,” Trystan soothed. “Let’s look a while longer. If we haven’t found her in an hour, I’ll grab one of the four-wheel drive vehicles and search with headlights.”

Twenty minutes later, they reached a fork in the trail. “You go left, and I’ll go right. We’ll meet back here in thirty minutes, regardless of what we’ve found, okay?”

“I don’t want to lose you, too, Acheehen.”

Trystan laughed easily. “You couldn’t get rid of me if you wanted to.

Half an hour. Look at your watch,” she called as she started off down the right fork.

It was about twelve minutes later when Trystan noticed a slightly different pattern to the leaves on the ground. Carefully, she examined the area, trying to make sense of it. She stepped off the path, following a hunch. There, just off to the side shivering from the cold and curled up in Lynn Ames

the fetal position on a large, flat rock was Alexa. Trystan wasn’t sure whether she wanted to hug her or strangle her.

“Hi,” Alexa offered meekly.

Definitely hug her. Trystan hesitated only for a fraction of a second before enveloping Alexa in a heartfelt embrace. With her mouth against Alexa’s ear, she whispered fiercely, “God, I’ve been so worried about you.”

“I’m okay,” Alexa offered bravely.

“You’re so cold.” Alexa’s skin felt like ice. “Here, put this on.”

Hurriedly, Trystan removed a flannel shirt she’d thrown on over her long-sleeved T-shirt and helped Alexa slip into it. “What are you doing out here? No,” Trystan held up her hands before the other woman could answer. “Let’s get you out of here, then we can talk about the rest.”

Alexa stiffened. “I don’t want to go with you.”

“What?” Trystan tried hard to read Alexa’s eyes in the near darkness.

“My presence is putting you and your mother in danger. I can’t do that anymore.”

Trystan felt as though a fist had closed around her heart. “Alexa, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” Trystan tried to help her down from her perch, but Alexa wouldn’t budge.

“I’m serious, Trystan. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to either of you, or anyone else for that matter, because of me.

If I just disappear, so does the danger.” Alexa tried to ignore the lump in her throat at the thought of being all alone in a world where she knew no one—not even herself.

A cold fear gripped Trystan at the thought of losing this woman she had just found. She cupped Alexa’s face with both hands. “My mother and I are more than willing to take the risk, Alexa. We knew what we were getting into, and we chose to take you in anyway. More than that, we’d do it all over again given the choice. You have to believe that,” she added vehemently.

Alexa shook her head, trying to free herself from Trystan’s tender grasp. It was so hard to think surrounded by that kind of caring.

Unfortunately, moving her head from side to side sent a bolt of white hot pain shooting through her skull, and she gasped as her world spun.

Immediately, Trystan was beside her, anchoring her in place. “Come on, Alexa. Let’s take you home.”

This time, Alexa didn’t hesitate. The thought of a warm bed almost made her weep.

“Can you walk?”

“I think so.”

Trystan lifted Alexa off the rock and helped her stand. She was a little wobbly at first but seemed to get her bearings after a moment.

The Value of Valor

“Let’s go. Mother will be worried sick by now.” Trystan checked her watch—she’d been gone twenty-three minutes.

Slowly, deliberately, the two women made their way back to where Trystan and Terri had split. When they finally arrived, Terri was pacing in circles.

As soon as she spotted her daughter and Alexa, she rushed forward.

Ever the consummate healer, she immediately began examining Alexa for signs of hypothermia or injuries.

Seemingly a little embarrassed by all the attention, Alexa squirmed.

“I’m all right, Terri. Really.”

“No, you’re not, but we’ll deal with that once we’ve gotten you back in bed. Right now I’m worried about us being able to find our way in the dark.”

“I know this area like the back of my hand,” Trystan boasted. “I’ll have us out of here in no time.”

True to her word, Trystan did lead them out of the area and back to Terri’s house in less than forty-five minutes. Both she and her mother undressed an exhausted, clearly overtaxed Alexa, putting her in bed and bringing some extra blankets with which to cover her.

Terri spent some time examining her patient more closely for signs of injury. It appeared she had aggravated her tender ribs and shoulder. In addition, the physical and emotional strain of her foray into the wilderness had left Alexa with a severe migraine. Terri gave her a shot to relieve the pain and help her sleep, and Alexa was out in seconds.

As if by mutual agreement, mother and daughter met in the kitchen.

“She thinks she’s endangering us—says she’s a burden. She wants to leave,” Trystan began, pacing agitatedly around the small space.

“That’s ridiculous.” Terri made a dismissive motion with her hands.

“You and I are in complete agreement on that, Amá, but she means it.

She didn’t want to come back with me—she wanted to leave the reservation right away.”

“Where did she think she would go?” Terri, who was coming to view Alexa as a second daughter, was frightened at the prospect of the young woman alone and lost in a world that could be less than kind.

“I don’t get the sense she’s thought that far or that she cares, as long as she doesn’t jeopardize the tribe anymore.”

“How did you convince her to come back with you?”

“It wasn’t me so much as it was her injuries. She shook her head, and I think she saw stars. After that, she wasn’t in much of a position to resist when I insisted she return with us.” When Trystan paused in her pacing and looked at her mother, tears welled in her eyes. “I know she’ll bring it up again.”

Lynn Ames

Terri was thoughtful for a few moments before she spoke next. “Even after she’s healed physically, she must stay here for her own safety until her memory is restored.” She looked at her daughter. “Unless and until she knows who those men were or why they were trying to kill her, she’ll be an easy target anywhere she goes.”

Trystan’s lips formed into a grim line. “I’ll just have to convince her to stay then.”

Terri put her arm around her daughter and squeezed. “We both will.”

Silently, she wondered if they could succeed.

Kate sat down at the light oak desk in her home office. The space was completely empty with the exception of five sheets of paper sitting directly in the center of the wooden surface. She’d been over the names on these pages four times already but hadn’t found what she was looking for. She took another swig of Diet Pepsi and arranged the pages side by side until they covered the width of her desk.

When Peter had faxed a copy of the invitees to the New York Inaugural Ball to her earlier in the evening, he’d instructed her to look for anyone who seemed out of place or anyone who might have had a grudge against her or Jay. Kate recognized dozens of names on the list; after all, the ball was attended by a veritable “Who’s Who” of New York politics, business, and the media, in addition to high level donors from across the country and the Washington power elite.

She ran her finger down the list. There were her former bosses at WCAP-TV and DOCS, every member of the president’s inner circle from when he was governor of New York, talk show hostess Wanda Nelson and her husband, the famous biographer Ted Graham, Bob Hawthorne from the DNC, Michael Vendetti, and a slew of others who Kate had never heard of before.

She stared at the names until they blurred together. Could one of these people have killed Jay? It was inconceivable to her. She ruled out all the names she recognized; none of them had a motive to harm Jay.

That left the other three pages of names she didn’t know. Disappointed that she couldn’t find anything obvious, she picked up the phone and paged Peter on his beeper.

Less than five minutes later, the phone rang.

“Hey, Technowiz.”

“You sound discouraged.”

Kate ran her hand through her hair, making it more disheveled than it already was. “I am. I’ve been over this list five times, and I can’t come up with anyone who makes any sense as our suspect. I’ve divided them into groups—people I know on a personal level, work acquaintances, and strangers.”

The Value of Valor

“Okay.”

“None of the folks I know personally have any reason to target Jay.”

“Do they have any reason to target you?”

“What do you mean?” Kate asked warily.

“I mean the best way to get you is to hurt Jay. It’s not like your relationship is a secret.”

Kate thought about it. “True.” She scanned the list again, this time looking for anyone who might have had a reason to hate her enough to kill the woman she loved. “Peter?” Her voice was animated.

“Yes?”

“What about Michael Vendetti?”

“What about him?”

“Think about it for a minute.” Kate warmed to the idea. “Here’s a guy who was the governor’s press secretary for two terms. I walked in the door and everything changed for him. The governor started inviting me to dinner to talk about policy issues, among other things. Then as candidate for president, he named me his lead spokesperson. Finally, as president, he named me press secretary and relegated Vendetti to the number two spot—working for me.” Kate paused to take a breath; she had never thought about how Vendetti might feel about being, in essence, demoted.

“Sounds like he has a motive or at least a reason to be jealous of you.”

“But jealous enough to kill someone?” Kate asked.

“It’s hard to say. I don’t suppose you can recall if he was anywhere in the vicinity when you and Jay were talking to the president.”

Kate searched her memory. “There were so many people there...” She blew out a frustrated breath. “I can’t say for sure.”

“That’s okay. We’ll put him down as a possible while I do a little poking in his business,” Peter said.

“What are you looking for?”

“I won’t know until I find it. Unusual activity in his bank account, interesting phone calls to or from folks that seem out of place—that sort of thing.”

“Okay. How am I supposed to work with this guy every day now?”

Kate asked.

“We don’t know anything yet either way. So just treat him like you always have.”

“It’ll be hard, knowing that there’s a chance he could have had something to do with Jay’s death.”

“I know, but look at it this way—if you start acting differently around him, you might tip him off.”

“And he could start covering his tracks.”

Lynn Ames

“Exactly.”

“Okay.” She could hear a loud hum in the background on Peter’s end.

“Where are you, anyway?”

“I’m at Quantico, running the list through their databases to check for criminal records.”

“Oh, good thinking. Anything yet?”

“It’s still processing. I’ve found a few parking scofflaws, a couple of DWIs, and one interesting notation.”

“What’s that?”

“Do you know a guy by the name of Kirk Hexall?”

“Never heard of him.”

“Me either. His name comes up with a fingerprint match; when I open his file, it gives me a list of priors, including manslaughter, and the jurisdiction of the crime.”

“Okay.” Kate drew out the word.

“That’s it. It doesn’t give me anything else.”

“That’s unusual?”

“You bet it is. It says there’s no record on file.”

Kate still wasn’t following. “What does that mean?”

“It means somebody deleted the details of the crime and the disposition. Somebody has something to hide.”

“Kind of odd for someone with that background to be at an inaugural ball, don’t you think?” Kate asked.

“I think it certainly makes me curious.”

“I take it you’re going to do something about it?”

Peter chuckled. “You know me, I hate unsolved mysteries. I think I’ll take a little trip to New York City and ask a few questions about the mysterious Mr. Hexall.”

“Is that where the crime was committed?”

“You got it.”

“Okay. What do you want me to do?” Kate asked.

“Nothing. Just sit tight for now. I’ll get answers just as soon as I can.”

“I know you will, Technowiz. Have I said thank you lately?”

“For what?”

“For everything—for being my best friend, for helping me through all this, for investigating Jay’s death.” She still choked on the words, even more than a month later.

“Oh, that. You know I want answers as much as you do, right?”

“Yeah,” Kate said.

“We’re going to get them, sweetheart, I promise you. And when we do, I’m going to make sure the sons of bitches pay.”

“I’d rather just have Jay back,” Kate said softly.

“I wish I had the power to make that happen, Kate. I really do.”

The Value of Valor

“Good night, Peter. Get some sleep sometime, will you?”

“I will if you will.”

Peter sat at an empty desk in the computer room at FBI headquarters in Quantico. He began to punch commands into a keyboard, then thinking better of it, turned off the machine, got up, grabbed his coat, and hurried out.

Finding a phone booth nearby, he fished in his pocket for the necessary change, dropped it in the slot, and dialed a number from memory.

“Yeah?”

“Is that any way to answer your phone, Gustav?”

“Depends on who’s calling,” a man with a heavy Russian accent responded. “For you, Pietro, I will revise my approach. What the hell do you want, Yankee?”

Peter laughed. “Ah, that’s much better. I need a favor.”

“Naturally, why else do you ever contact me?”

“As I recall, I’ve always been there when you’ve needed a thing or two.” Peter knew he didn’t need to remind Gustav that if it weren’t for him, the expert computer hacker would either be in a gulag in Siberia or a federal penitentiary in the States.

“Yeah, yeah. Will my debts never be paid?”

“Time will tell, my friend. Will you help me?”

“If I am able. What do you need?”

“Access to the telephone company’s records where the queries won’t be traceable.”

“Child’s play.”

“I also want to test out that fancy new program you’ve been perfecting to cross-reference the phone numbers with names and locations where the calls were placed.”

There was a muffled curse on the other end of the line. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Gustav, this is me you’re talking to. No bullshit.”

After a short pause and another muffled curse, Gustav asked, “How soon can you be here?”

“I’ll see you in an hour.” Peter hung up the phone and made his way to his rental car, sitting alone in a corner of the FBI parking lot.

Fifty-five minutes later, he knocked on a plain wooden door in a nondescript neighborhood on the outskirts of Georgetown. The door was opened by a beefy, middle-aged man with beady brown eyes hidden by thick lenses, stringy gray hair, and a bushy gray beard.

“This way.”

“Ah, Gustav, I see you’re still a man of few words.”

Lynn Ames

“What is there to say? I know better than to ask why you need to interrupt my nice little life at all hours of the night.”

“The social niceties have always escaped you.”

The big man shrugged. “I’ve never seen any reason to waste time on useless chatter.”

Peter laughed. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

Gustav led the way through the cramped apartment, newspapers strewn everywhere in the tiny living room and dirty dishes piled on the stained coffee table.

“You ought to get yourself a housekeeper, Gustav.”

“Bah. I like things just the way they are. This way, I know exactly where everything is.”

Peter made a show of examining his surroundings, simply raising his eyebrows when he returned his focus to his host.

“You want to make small talk or you want to get what you came for?”

“It’s your life, my friend. Show me the way.”

Gustav led the way down a hallway, turning right at the end and gesturing for Peter to precede him through a narrow doorway. Stepping through the entranceway was akin to stepping into another world. Here the room was pristine, the surfaces absolutely free of clutter. There were five workstations in the large, cave-like room, each with a monitor, mouse, and keyboard. Behind the desks was a massive mainframe computer that spanned the width of the space. The room was pitch black with the exception of the eerie glow from the monitors and the glowing red and green lights from the mainframe.

Gustav pointed to the workstation directly in the middle of the group.

“I have set that one up for you already. I have taken the liberty of patching you directly into the system and past the usual security questions. You need only type in the individual or group you want information on, and it should give you access to everything you need.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“How does the cross-reference piece work?”

Gustav sat down at the workstation. “I don’t suppose I should ask how you know about that.”

Peter shook his head and smiled.

Gustav shrugged, turning his attention to the keyboard. “I didn’t figure you’d tell me, but I had to try. Okay. Say I look up my own records at the phone company.” He punched in the query. “See, when the numbers for incoming and outgoing calls come up, I’ve modified their own program by hacking into the computer system of the company that The Value of Valor

distributes that huge book with all the names and addresses listed by phone number.”

“You’ve merged the two databases.”

“Oh, my friend, I’ve done much more than that. But for your simplistic mind, that explanation will work. If I type in this command string…” His fingers flew across the keyboard. “…the names and addresses pop up next to the numbers. Here, I’ve written the command code down for you. If you need anything, I’ll be out there,” he gestured to the living room, “watching your American television. Fascinating.” He closed the door behind him.

Peter sat down, dropped his coat on the next chair over, and bent to the keyboard. The man really was a genius and way ahead of his time.

Peter typed in “Wheeler, Alton Franklin.” He hit the enter key. After several seconds of silence, the mainframe began to hum and whir, and the monitor began to flash. A minute later, the screen was covered with a series of entries.

Peter began with January 21, 1989, the day after the presidential inauguration, and worked his way forward to the present. Scanning down the list, he saw routine calls to and from powerbrokers in the House and Senate, calls to the president’s office, several to his wife…Peter’s eyes were drawn to the middle of the screen.

There was a call to Robert Hawthorne, placed several days earlier.

Peter made a notation of the entry. It wasn’t necessarily unusual for the vice president to call the man running the political side of the party, but he was curious to know about the nature of the call, and he would cross-reference that piece of information with the vice president’s schedule and other factors.

Peter continued scanning the records on the screen. The very next entry after the call to the chairman of the DNC was a call to a phone number in Beijing, China. It was placed two hours after the call to Hawthorne. Alarm bells rang in Peter’s head. The time lapse made Peter wonder if the vice president had gone out for a little while, perhaps to a meeting with Hawthorne. The call was made to a man named Bruce Gendreau. Peter wrote the name down on a piece of paper and kept looking. He saw nothing else of interest after that call.

Returning to the main query page, he moved his cursor to the “search for” box. He typed in “Vendetti, Michael.” Again the computer searched through millions of records in the course of minutes, stopping when it accessed the requested file. This time, Peter began searching in January 1988, about the time when the then-governor hired Kate to be his campaign spokesperson. At first glance, nothing caught Peter’s eye all the way up until Inauguration Day. His eyes drifted farther down.

Lynn Ames

“Huh. Mr. Hawthorne again, popular guy,” Peter mumbled to himself. He made a note of a series of phones calls Vendetti placed to Hawthorne, all on January 22, 1989, the day after Jay’s accident.

“Interesting.” The calls, six of them, were all placed within a five-hour period and were of a short enough duration that Peter felt he could safely assume Vendetti had been handled by Hawthorne’s secretary. After that, there were no more records of any calls to the chairman.

On a hunch, Peter decided to expand his search. He retraced his steps to include Vendetti’s phone records from May 1987 forward. “Bingo.”

Beginning in June of that year and ending six months later in December, Vendetti called Hawthorne or received calls from him no fewer than half a dozen times. As press secretary to the governor, Vendetti had cause to talk to many people, but that many calls to the chairman of the DNC

would have been highly irregular.

As Peter was about to shut down the program, he had a thought.

Quickly, he typed in “Hawthorne, Robert.” After several seconds, far less time than it had taken with the other two searches, a screen came up. On it was one line: “User not authorized to access information.”

“Really,” Peter muttered out loud. “What are you hiding, Mr.

Hawthorne?”

Peter closed out the query, leaving a blank computer screen before joining his friend in the living room.

“Ah, you are done then?” Gustav asked from a reclining position on the dirty couch.

“Yep. Thanks, Gustav, you were a big help. Your new program works like a dream. Instead of peddling it on the black market, you ought to think about going legit and selling it to the government.”

“Yes, working with your government—I am sure that will get me far in life,” the big man said sarcastically.

Peter smiled as he shrugged into his jacket and opened the front door,

“Farther than a ten-by-twelve prison cell.”

“Very funny,” Gustav said, as the door clicked shut.

Peter stopped at a pay phone and dialed the number the president had given him. It was answered on the second ring.

“President Hyland here.”

“Mr. President, I’m sorry to disturb you so late.”

“Peter? No, no problem. I was just going through some briefing papers for my first trip abroad. Do you have something?”

“Are we secure, sir?”

“Yes, Peter. The number I gave you is unrecorded and undocumented.”

“And the room?”

The Value of Valor

“Yes, this is my bedroom—I assure you there are no microphones in here. My wife would kill me.”

“Very well, then. Sir, do you have a list of the CIA station chiefs?”

“Yes, it’s in one of my briefing books. Can you hold on a second?”

“Yes, sir.” Peter heard the president put the phone down. He heard a door open, then silence. Several minutes later, he heard the door close again.

“I’m sorry about the wait, Peter. The dang thing was in my office here in the residence. I’m looking right now.” After several moments of silence, he asked, “I take it you want to know the name of the station chief in China.”

“Yes, sir. It wouldn’t happen to be a fellow by the name of Bruce Gendreau, would it?”

There was another pause as the president apparently continued scanning the list. “Yes, as a matter of fact, it is. Why?”

“I followed your hunch, sir, and checked into the vice president’s phone records. Seems he made a phone call to Mr. Gendreau; the call was made the same day you heard from your contact over there.”

“Well, I’ll be.” The president’s voice was filled with wonder. “I mean, I know that’s where I told you to look, but I didn’t hold out much hope of finding a smoking gun that easily.” It was almost as if the president was talking to himself. “I know the man is dumber than a box of rocks, but still…”

“Mr. President?”

“Yes?”

“Can you think of any reason the vice president would be calling Robert Hawthorne?”

There was silence on the line for several heartbeats. “I can make excuses for why he might. What’s the time frame?”

“Two hours before the vice president placed the call to China.”

The president whistled. “Now that is interesting.”

“I thought so, too.” Peter debated whether or not to tell the president about the calls between Vendetti and Hawthorne and the fact that Hawthorne apparently had friends in high enough places to have access to his phone records curtailed. He decided against it for the moment.

“How should we proceed, Peter?”

“I haven’t worked that out yet, sir. Let me think about it and I’ll get back to you tomorrow, okay?”

“Fine. I’ll make sure Vicky knows to get you in whenever you’re ready.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Good night, Peter.”

Lynn Ames

CHAPTER SEVEN

he alarm went off at 4:30 a.m., as it did every morning. Kate, T having fallen asleep a scant hour and a half earlier, fumbled for the off switch and rolled over instinctively toward the spot where Jay would have been. This time of day, when she was in that vulnerable state between sleep and wakefulness, was perhaps the most difficult for Kate.

Her body and soul, unencumbered by the constraints of a conscious mind, yearned for her lover, reaching out blindly for the warmth and security that told her she was cherished. The moment when her mind caught up with the rest of her and remembered that Jay was gone was nothing short of agony—an agony that Kate had lived every day for the last five weeks.

Wearily, she rose and made her way to the bathroom. After splashing some cold water on her face and brushing her teeth, she threw on her running clothes and sneakers, made her way to the kitchen, fed Fred, and let him out into the backyard. It was the same routine she had followed for years, even before Jay came into her life, yet now it was as if each individual action took more out of Kate than she had to give.

Her feet pounded the pavement on the Mount Vernon bike trail that wound its way along the Potomac River. She tried to focus on the day ahead—the two televised briefings she would conduct for the press, the meeting with staff to go over the details of the president’s upcoming trip abroad, and the daily policy briefing with the president and senior advisers.

She knew she would come into contact with Michael Vendetti at least a handful of times, as she did every day. This day was different, though; this day, Kate had reason to suspect he might have killed her lover. She had no idea how she would handle the situation, but she hoped she wouldn’t strangle him with her bare hands before having all the facts.

It was still dark outside, but Terri was used to waking before the sun.

She switched on the small lamp on her bedside table, the resultant light casting an ethereal glow over the tidy room. As was her custom when she had the time, she turned on the small television set on her dresser. Every home on this part of the reservation was connected to a large satellite The Value of Valor

dish that sat atop a nearby rock formation. There was a larger TV in the living room, but she didn’t want to wake Alexa, whose room was only a short distance away, by turning it on.

Although she spent most of her time on the reservation these days, Terri still liked to indulge her secret passion for Washington politics. She first got hooked while watching handsome Bobby Kennedy in the 1968

election campaign before his assassination. She had sat transfixed as she watched the events unfold on the tiny black and white television her roommate had kept in their college dorm room.

Lately, she’d been drawn to the C-SPAN network’s coverage of the White House morning press briefing, which was conducted by the president’s press secretary. Terri admired Katherine Kyle, especially after what she’d been through. Despite having so recently lost her lover, she seemed strong, self-assured, intelligent, and witty, and she carried herself with great dignity.

As Terri listened to the press secretary handle difficult questions with humor and honesty, she moved around the room, preparing for the day ahead. She paused when her eyes alighted on the jewelry box in the far corner of the dresser. Slowly, she removed Alexa’s ring from within and examined it. She moved over to the night table and held the ring under the light, turning it in all directions and watching the diamonds sparkle.

Not for the first time, she noted the inscription on the inside: “Forever.”

“Where do you belong, Alexa? Someone out there is mourning you.

Who is it? What brought you to us? And who wants you dead?” Terri blew out a frustrated breath, tired of pondering questions she could not answer.

After the episode the day before, she wasn’t sure Alexa would stay long enough for any of them to solve the mystery. Terri picked up the phone and dialed Andrea’s number again.

After exchanging pleasantries, Terri got right to the point. “Alexa suffered a serious setback yesterday, and I’m not sure what it means for her. I need your help.”

“Tell me what happened,” the psychologist said.

Terri finished recapping the previous day’s events by saying, “I feel certain that she’ll regain her memory. I’m concerned about how long it’ll take because she was so agitated yesterday. I’m afraid she’ll try to leave us before we have answers.”

“And that will make her an easy target for whoever tried to kill her before.”

“Yes, precisely. Not only that, but where will she go? What will she do? She knows nothing of where she came from. How will she make a living?”

Lynn Ames

“Terri,” Andrea said softly, “you’re very attached to this young woman, aren’t you?”

Terri paused. “Yes, I’m afraid I’ve come to look at her somewhat like a second daughter.”

“You know she’ll leave when her memory returns, right?”

“I do know that,” Terri said quietly. “But she’s impossible not to care for. She’s kind and warm; she has a gentleness about her that makes you want to shield her from any harm.”

“You can’t protect her from her life. She needs to know who she is in order to understand why those men were trying to kill her.” After a brief pause, Andrea continued in a gentler tone. “I sense that you’re conflicted about whether you really want her to remember or not.”

Terri contemplated that. “I am, I think. Not only because of my feelings for Alexa, but because I’ve been watching Trystan with her. I think my daughter is falling in love.”

“Oh, my. That does complicate things. I don’t suppose you’ve told Trystan about the ring.”

“No, I haven’t had the heart.”

“Terri, if your daughter is falling in love, it’s a far kinder thing to tell her Alexa belongs to someone else now, before their relationship progresses any further, don’t you think?”

“I suppose you’re right about that, too,” Terri said resignedly. There was another silence on the line. “Andy? Do you suppose there’s any chance Alexa would never regain her memory?”

“I can’t rule it out, but statistics show that most people do get it back, some sooner than others. Terri, if you’re wondering what I think you are, that’s a very dangerous path.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, I think it’s great that you’ve taken this young woman in and nurtured her back to health, both physically and mentally. You’ve shown her love and kindness, and I can see that she’s enriched your lives.

But this woman will find herself again. When she does, she may leave and never come back.”

“Although my intuition tells me you’re wrong, I’ll accept whatever happens in the future. I can’t worry about that right now. I need to prepare for today. Today she’s convinced that she’s a burden and that she’s endangering our lives.”

“Talk to her. Explain that you knew the risks when you decided to help her in the first place. Help her see that every day that passes without her reappearing in the world helps to convince the killers that she is dead.”

“Okay.”

The Value of Valor

“Be careful; there’s a fine line here. You don’t want her to feel as though you’re forcing her to stay against her will.”

“Of course not.”

“Good luck, my friend. Let me know if you need any more help.”

“Thank you, Andy. I knew I could count on you.”

Peter sat in the Oval Office, waiting for the president to finish his phone call. He took in the luxuriant blue carpet emblazoned with the presidential seal, the pictures on the walls of past presidents commemorating some of history’s most important moments, and the man behind the huge mahogany desk in the deep cherry leather chair. Charles Hyland looked like he was born to sit in that seat. Calm, confident, and completely in control, he was a natural leader, and Peter was grateful for that stewardship.

“Sorry about that, Peter.” The president gestured at the phone.

“No problem, sir. Would it be better if I came back another time?”

The president laughed heartily. “I wish there was such a thing as a

‘good’ time. Unfortunately, my time is never my own these days.”

“I’m sure not, sir.”

“Have you given our little situation any more thought?”

“Yes, sir. Based on what you’ve told me and my own observation, I doubt that the vice president could have acted alone in this.”

“I agree.” The president picked up a solid gold pen and twirled it in his fingers. “Who else is involved?”

“I can’t be sure, sir, but I have an educated guess.”

“And that is?”

“Robert Hawthorne.”

“Hawthorne?” The president was incredulous. “Why?”

“That’s what I can’t figure out, sir. I can’t find an obvious motive.”

“Then what makes you suspect him?”

“His name appears too often in a few too many odd places.”

The president nodded. “The phone call you told me about with Wheeler shortly before the call to China.”

“Yes, sir. That and the fact that when I tried to access Hawthorne’s phone records, I got shut out.”

“Meaning you didn’t have clearance?”

“Something like that. Yet I had no trouble whatsoever getting into the vice president’s phone log.”

“Curious, to be sure.”

“Yes, sir. I think the man has something to hide.”

The president pondered Peter’s hypothesis. He had never particularly cared for Robert Hawthorne, but the notion that the man would Lynn Ames

undermine the presidency, and by extension his country, in this way—it seemed unthinkable. “All right. What’s your recommendation?”

“We have several options. You can recall the station chief and question him.”

The president dismissed that idea out of hand. “The man’s a pro. I don’t think he’d be likely to tell us much.”

“I agree.”

“You could confront either the vice president or Hawthorne with what you know.”

“What do you think?”

“I think you don’t want to get the two of them together. You need to isolate one of them.”

“Which one?”

Peter shook his head. “You know the players better than I do, sir.

Which one of them is more likely to cave under the pressure of knowing he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar?”

Without hesitation, the president said, “Wheeler.”

“Okay, the vice president it is then.”

The president’s face was grim. “How far do you think I should go?”

“As far as it takes for you to get the information we need to put a stop to whatever’s in play—who put the plan in place, what was the endgame, and are there any other players involved?”

The president tapped his pen on the desk absently as he thought. “If Wheeler did make that phone call and placed the order, I could make an argument for treason. That should scare him into spilling his guts.” He looked up at his visitor. “I have to tell you, Peter, this is a heck of a way to start an administration.”

“I’m truly sorry, sir.”

“Yeah,” the president said pensively, “me too.”

At the door, Peter turned back to the president, who was gazing through the French doors out onto the White House lawn.

“Sir?”

“Yes?” President Hyland swiveled his chair back around to face Peter.

“How well do you know Michael Vendetti?” He hadn’t planned to bother the president with this but felt he and Kate needed more information about the deputy press secretary than they had.

The president seemed taken aback by the question. “Pretty well, I think. Why?”

“What kind of man is he?”

President Hyland narrowed his eyes in thought. “He’s a good enough sort. A little high-strung, perhaps, but knowledgeable and dependable.”

“Does he have an ego?”

The Value of Valor

The president paused to consider. “I suppose he might. I don’t really know.” He regarded Peter quizzically. “Any particular reason you’re interested in Michael?”

“Is he friends with Hawthorne?”

“What? I don’t believe the two even know each other.”

“So he wouldn’t have any reason to call the chairman’s office multiple times on January 22nd?”

“January 22nd? Two days after the inauguration? Absolutely not.”

“Very well, thank you, sir.”

“Did he?”

“Call Hawthorne?”

“Yes.”

Peter nodded. “Six times in five hours.”

The president recoiled in surprise. “That’s a lot of calls.”

“I agree, sir.”

“Any theories?”

Peter decided to keep his suspicions to himself until he had more information. “Not at the moment, sir, no. Just questions.”

“You have questions.” Terri sat at Alexa’s bedside.

“Yes, I do.” Alexa picked at the intricately woven Navajo blanket that covered her bed. “I’m so confused. Am I a bad person?”

Terri was surprised by the question. “Why would you ask such a thing?”

“Someone wants me dead. Why?” She raised perplexed eyes to meet Terri’s steady gaze.

“I wish I knew, Alexa. I cannot believe that you’re anything other than a kind and gentle soul.”

“But we don’t know that.”

“I know it in my heart.”

“You say that with such certitude.”

“I’ve seen into your heart, Alexa. I don’t need to know anything else.

A person like you, who worries about whether she is good or bad and cares about the lives of others, cannot be evil. You have a good spirit. I can feel it.”

“Then why are people trying to kill me?”

Terri shrugged, unable to give Alexa the answers she sought and unwilling to lie. “I don’t know. All I know is that it’s too dangerous for you to leave here until we can answer that question.”

Alexa’s eyes flashed darkly. “You’ve got that backward. It’s too dangerous for your people if I stay.”

“Alexa.” Terri adopted as reasonable a tone as she could manage.

“The tribe knew the risks when we decided to protect you. The tribal Lynn Ames

elders held a council and all agreed. We held a two-day chanting ceremony to ward off evil and reinforce good. We’re at peace with our decision. Every day that you remain with us reinforces the killers’ belief that you’re dead. They won’t look for you unless you give them a reason to do so.”

Alexa contemplated Terri’s words, trying to find fault with her logic; she could not, so she decided to try a different tactic. “I don’t like that I’ve brought disharmony to your people.”

“You haven’t done any such thing.”

“Having an outsider living on the reservation is difficult enough, but one who portends trouble—that’s too much.”

“Since when have you become such an expert on my tribe?”

“I’ve had plenty of time to read and to study your beliefs.”

Terri got up and walked to the window, looking out past the street to the horizon. “There is much that isn’t written about us. Like our sense of family, Alexa.” Terri paused, uncertain whether she should say what was in her heart. “I have counted many blessings in my life. I’ve experienced the best of both worlds—my native traditions and your culture. I’ve had the joy of raising a wonderful daughter.”

“Yes, she is,” Alexa agreed.

“I’ve gotten to take the lessons I’ve learned and the skills that I’ve developed and use them to help my people. I’m a lucky woman.” She turned back to face Alexa. “Now I have a new blessing in my life—you.

You bring me joy and laughter. I’ve come to look at you as a second daughter.” She sat down on the edge of the bed and took Alexa’s hand. “I know you’ll go someday soon, when you’ve recovered your true self. In the meantime, I’d love it if you would stay and let me enjoy your company a little longer.”

Alexa opened her mouth to speak but found that there was nothing to say. Instead she leaned forward and enveloped Terri in a heartfelt hug.

“How can I resist you?” She wiped at the tears on her cheeks. “I don’t know how to thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

“No thanks are necessary. Your continued improvement is reward enough.”

“Is this a private party or can anyone join?” Trystan stood in the doorway, watching her mother and her friend with great affection. She hadn’t heard much of the conversation but caught enough to know that her mother had convinced Alexa to stay. Her heart was jubilant.

“Good morning, Acheehen.”

“Hi, Trystan.” Alexa smiled shyly, remembering how her friend had comforted her and taken care of her the day before.

“How’s my favorite patient?”

“I’m feeling much better now, thanks.”

The Value of Valor

“That’s good to hear.”

Terri could not help but notice the way her daughter’s voice softened and her eyes lit up when she looked at Alexa. She frowned, knowing she needed to have a talk with Trystan soon.

“Alexa, you must be hungry. Are you ready for breakfast?” Terri asked.

“Mmm, that sounds great. Thanks.”

“Yeah, Amá, I’m starved.”

Terri smiled indulgently. “Then you can get in here and help me prepare it.”

Trystan rolled her eyes. “I walked right into that one. Should’ve seen it coming from a mile away.” She winked at Alexa as she turned to follow her mother into the kitchen.

“While you two are slaving over a hot stove, I could sure use a shower.”

“Are you going to be okay doing that by yourself?” Trystan blushed as she asked the question. “Do you need some help?”

“Thanks, I think I’ve got it covered.”

“Okay. Holler if you need anything.”

“I will.”

In the kitchen, Terri tried to calm her nerves. She hated having to do this, knowing it would hurt the person she loved most in the world, but Andrea was right—she couldn’t wait any longer. When Trystan came to stand next to her, Terri asked, “Where’s Alexa?”

“She’s taking a shower.”

Terri put down the knife she’d been using to cut a loaf of homemade banana bread, wiped her hands on a dish towel, and faced Trystan.

“Come with me.”

“I thought we were making breakfast.”

“There’s something I have to show you first.”

“Okay.”

Terri led the way into her bedroom, walked directly to her jewelry box, and pulled Alexa’s ring from inside. Wordlessly, she handed it to her daughter.

Trystan accepted the ring and examined it in the light. “You never told me you had a wedding ring. I’ve never seen you wear it.” She noted the inscription on the inside, pointed to it and said, “Very romantic.”

Terri looked down at her feet. “It’s not mine.”

“Not yours? Then who’s…” Her voice trailed off as she considered the possibilities.

Terri said the words she knew would slice through her daughter like a knife. “It belongs to Alexa. I removed it from her left ring finger when I was tending to the cuts on her hands after the accident.”

Lynn Ames

Trystan looked at her mother uncomprehendingly. “But—”

Terri finally glanced up to meet eyes filled with shock and disbelief.

“Alexa doesn’t know,” she continued, “she hasn’t seen it. I spoke with a psychologist, and she thinks it would be a mistake to show it to her.” She rushed on, filling the uncomfortable void. “It might only serve to frustrate her more—knowing that she’s married and that somewhere out there someone is mourning her and she doesn’t know who it is.”

Trystan stared at her mother, tears welling in her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“I tried to warn you at the very beginning. Do you remember?”

“You should’ve told me what you knew, Amá. Now it’s too late.”

Trystan’s lips trembled and her tears began to fall.

Terri reached out, intending to take her daughter into her arms, but Trystan backed away, shaking her head.

“No, Amá. You can’t make this one better with a hug. You can’t make this one better at all.” Choking on her sobs, she ran out of the house.

All Terri could do was watch her go and let her own tears fall at her failure to protect her child.

When Alexa walked into the kitchen a short time later, she knew something was wrong. “Where’s Trystan?”

“Something came up. She couldn’t stay.”

“Oh.” Alexa wanted to ask what but didn’t feel it was her place. Then she got a good look at Terri’s face, filled with sadness and pain. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, child, I’m fine.” Terri busied herself making a new pot of coffee.

“Are you sure? Did you two have a fight?”

“No,” Terri said too quickly, before catching herself. “No.

Everything’s fine, Alexa. Sit. Your breakfast is getting cold.”

Alexa didn’t really believe Terri, but she didn’t want to pry any further. She took her seat at the table, when all she really wanted to do was find Trystan and ask why she’d left in such a hurry.

The Value of Valor

CHAPTER EIGHT

rystan sat on a rock by the water, idly skimming stones across the T surface. She was angry—angry at her mother for keeping a vital piece of information from her, angry at herself for opening her heart to the possibility of a future with a woman who didn’t even know her past, and angry at the universe in general for giving her Alexa, only to snatch her away.

What was she supposed to do now? Stay away from Alexa entirely?

She wasn’t sure she could or even if she wanted to. One thing was certain: she couldn’t continue with Alexa on the path they were on. What she wanted with Alexa was a life spent loving each other. Seeing the ring, reading its inscription, she knew that would never be, and she was too honorable to behave as if it could be otherwise.

“Trystan? Are you here?”

Trystan buried her face in her hands at the sound of Alexa’s voice.

She wasn’t ready. Still she dried her eyes, put on her best neutral expression, and called, “Over here.”

Within seconds, Alexa was by her side. “Sorry I missed you at breakfast. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Trystan continued gazing at the water, skimming stones.

“Are you sure? You seem a little upset about something.”

“I’m not. I just needed a little time alone, that’s all.” The words came out more harshly than Trystan intended.

“Oh,” Alexa backed up a step, surprised and hurt by Trystan’s tone of voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll just head back to your mother’s.”

As Alexa turned to go, Trystan put a hand on her arm. She couldn’t push Alexa away—not like this. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it came out.”

“It’s okay, Trystan. I know I’ve been a pretty constant presence for you these past weeks—one that you didn’t ask for. I should’ve been more sensitive to the fact that you have your own life, and it doesn’t always need to include me. I’ve imposed on you, and I apologize for that.”

Without waiting for a reply, Alexa returned the way she had come.

Lynn Ames

Trystan reluctantly watched her go, every fiber in her being urging her to follow Alexa and set things right. Instead, she turned back to the water and let the tears flow.

Alexa wandered along the creek aimlessly, having decided she needed time to think before going home to Terri’s house. She was depressed. Trystan and Terri were the only people she had in the world, the last thing she wanted was to impose on them to the point of annoyance. Which is exactly what she feared had happened with Trystan that morning.

Alexa thought about how much she had come to rely on Trystan’s friendship and how much she enjoyed the time they spent together. It seemed to her that Trystan looked forward to their encounters as much as she did, but maybe she was wrong—perhaps she was suffocating her.

Afraid of losing Trystan altogether, Alexa resolved to give her the space she obviously needed.

Alexa sat down on the bank of the creek, feeling completely lost and utterly alone.

“Mr. President, the vice president is here to see you.”

“Thank you, Vicky, send him in.”

“Very well, sir.”

“And Vicky? I don’t want to be disturbed for any reason.

Understood?”

“Yes, Mr. President.”

Vice President Wheeler was in a surly mood. The president had summoned him off the seventh green in the middle of his weekly round of golf. He paused in the center of the room, waiting.

President Hyland, taking in the vice president’s golfing outfit, was secretly pleased that he’d chosen his moment well. “Sit down. We need to talk.”

“All right.”

The president waited until Wheeler was seated across from him, the large desk separating them. He leaned back in his chair and stared hard at the man he’d been forced to accept as his running mate.

The vice president shifted uncomfortably in his seat under the scrutiny.

“Tell me, Al, what’s the going price for treason these days?”

“Excuse me?” Wheeler’s face flushed and his eyes grew wide.

“I said, what’s the cost for betraying your country?”

“How should I know?”

The Value of Valor

The president shoved forward suddenly in his chair, his forearms landing hard on the desk. “Don’t mess around with me, Wheeler. I know what you’ve been up to. I know about the call to China.”

The vice president’s face drained of all color. “W-what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you, Al? How do you feel about being impeached and going to jail for the rest of your stinking life?”

“Y-you can’t prove anything.” Wheeler’s mind was whirling. How in the world had he been found out? Had Hawthorne been double dealing?

“Oh, yes, I can. I’m going to give you one chance to come clean. I want to know who put the plan in play, what you hoped to accomplish, who’s in it with you, and I want to know now.” The president pounded his fist on the desk for emphasis.

Wheeler was trying to sort through possibilities in his mind. He didn’t want to take the fall for the plan, especially not if Hawthorne had set him up. The bastard. He looked at the president. Was he bluffing? Wheeler didn’t think so, but he thought he might still work his way out of trouble.

“You know, Mr. President, there are some members of your party who understand my value. I don’t understand for the life of me why you don’t.”

“Is Robert Hawthorne one of those people, Al? What did he promise you? What did you hope to gain?”

The vice president leaned forward in his chair. The mention of Hawthorne’s name in conjunction with the questions about their plan made him rethink whether or not the chairman had betrayed him; perhaps he hadn’t. But if not him, then who? He decided to try one last time to reason with Hyland. “What’s wrong with the idea of democracy in China, Mr. President?”

“In theory, nothing. The point is, inciting a revolution in another country, doing so without the consent of the president or Congress, and initiating the plan in secret constitutes treason. So let me ask you again, Al, before I call in the Secret Service and have you arrested on the spot, how did this plot come about?” The president saw Wheeler vacillating and closed in for the kill. “It’s possible if you come clean that we can get past this and get on with the business of the people. If you don’t—you’ll leave me no choice but to move ahead with charges.”

The vice president chewed the corner of his moustache, unsure of what to do. In the end, it came down to self-preservation. “All right. It happened like this. I got a call from Bob telling me he wanted to talk to me about something important. He said we shouldn’t do it in my office, so I went over to his place.”

The president nodded. So far, Wheeler seemed to be telling the truth—a trip to Hawthorne’s office would account for the two hours Lynn Ames

between the call he placed to the DNC chairman and the call to China.

“Go on.”

“We were talking about how great it would be to bring democracy to China—what a coup it would be for the free world and the United States in particular.”

The president smiled. He doubted Wheeler even understood the pun he had unintentionally made.

“Bob said it was all in place; we could make it look like an internal rebellion. He had it all set up. I just needed to make a phone call and everything would be taken care of.”

“So you called Bruce Gendreau and gave him the order to set the revolution in motion.” The president said it as a statement, not a question.

The vice president seemed perplexed. “Who’s Gendreau?”

“The CIA station chief in China. That’s who you called, right?”

“Oh, yeah. I never knew his name.”

“What was supposed to happen next?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you made the phone call, what was supposed to happen after that?”

The vice president shrugged, feeling somewhat foolish. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “Bob thought it would be best if I didn’t know too much about the plan.”

The president sprang up from his chair and began pacing behind his desk. “Let me see if I’ve got this right. The chairman of the DNC urges you to commit treason and you don’t even ask the details of what you’re setting in motion? You put the entire country—no, the world—at risk, and you have no idea what the endgame is?”

Wheeler didn’t like feeling like a dolt. “The endgame, Pretty Boy, is democracy in Communist China. What part of that don’t you understand?”

“I don’t understand how you can sit here and try to justify treason as anything other than what it is,” the president thundered, sitting back down and mulling over possible courses of action. Having Wheeler removed from office would give him a chance to appoint someone who really could do justice to the job of vice president. On the other hand, if the scandal were to get out, his administration would be compromised before his term even got started. Nothing had happened yet. There was still time to reverse the command, fire Hawthorne, get Wheeler under his thumb, and move on. He needed more time to think.

“What you’ve done, Al, constitutes a high crime—one punishable by impeachment and removal from office.”

The vice president sat glowering across the desk.

The Value of Valor

“Still as far as I can tell, the damage hasn’t been done yet. I need some time to decide what I’m going to do about this. I’ll let you know when I’ve made up my mind. Until then, I suggest you lay low because if I find out you’ve done otherwise, I won’t hesitate to take you down.”

The vice president, angered at having so little control over his own fate, stormed out the door, slamming it behind him.

“I’m telling you, he knows everything. He knows about the phone call to your guy in China, he knows about the plan, and he’s threatening to charge me with treason.” The vice president paced agitatedly around Hawthorne’s office.

“Calm down, Al. He’s not going to blow the whistle. If he does, his administration will be doomed before it even starts.”

“Easy for you to sit there all confident, Bob—it’s not you who’ll be impeached.”

“It won’t be you, either. Just sit tight and let me handle this.”

“The way you’ve handled things so far?”

“You’re overreacting.”

“Overreacting?” The vice president whirled around. “I could go to jail for the rest of my life. How is that overreacting?”

“It isn’t going to happen. I’m telling you, go back to your office and go about your business. He said he was going to contact you when he had made up his mind, right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, then. We’ve got a little time to work with.”

“We have no idea how much, though.”

Hawthorne smiled. “We won’t need much.” He watched as the vice president continued to pace. It was clear he was coming apart at the seams. “Al, I promise you, Americans will remember you as a great patriot and a champion of democracy, you’ll see.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I know I am,” Hawthorne soothed as he ushered the vice president through the doorway.

When he was gone, Hawthorne closed the door and sat heavily in his chair. Without Wheeler, everything would be lost. Although he hadn’t said so directly, Hawthorne was pretty sure the vice president had implicated him in the scheme. That wouldn’t sit well with the Commission. In truth, none of it would. He swiveled in his chair to face his credenza, picked up a framed picture he kept sitting there, and stared at the image. His beloved Emily—his only child and the light of his life.

If he failed in his assignment, he would lose her forever. Reluctantly, he picked up the phone and dialed a number.

“Grayson.”

Lynn Ames

“It’s Hawthorne. We have a situation.” When the DNC chairman was done with his explanation, he held his breath, waiting for the explosion.

The fact that Grayson was silent on the other end made Hawthorne even more nervous than an outburst would have.

In a voice Hawthorne thought eerily calm, Grayson said, “All right.

Sit tight, we’ll take care of it.”

“That’s it?”

“You’ve left us no choice, now have you? I’ll need you to disappear for a little while, though.”

“Disappear?”

“Yes, drop out of sight. We don’t want the president to be able to find you. Chances are he may try to have you removed; we don’t want to give him that opportunity.”

“What are you going to do?”

“That is not your concern at the moment. Your job is to stay out of the way.”

“Until when?”

“Until you hear from us again.”

“What about the vice president?”

“The advice you gave him was sound. When the time is right, you will be told what to do with him.”

“How will you find me?”

Grayson’s laugh was mirthless. “Don’t worry, we’ll find you.”

A dial tone buzzed in Hawthorne’s ear. He packed up his briefcase as quickly as he could and left the office. He thought a boat on the Caribbean sounded good.

Grayson looked out over the Potomac, a grim smile of satisfaction on his face. Everything was going according to plan. He buzzed his secretary on the intercom. “Get me the Viper.”

Less than twenty seconds later, his private line rang. “I have a job for you. We need to initiate Operation Overhaul.” He listened for a moment.

“Yes, now. Will it work with the schedule?” He nodded. “Good. Proceed as outlined.” He hung up the phone.

As was their custom before the president retired to the residence, a team of three Secret Service agents swept the rooms. Agent Douglas was responsible for the president’s bedroom and the master bathroom suite.

He checked the closets, under the bed, and around the window areas.

Finding nothing out of place, he moved into the bathroom.

He examined the shower, the separate bathtub, and under the sinks.

He opened the medicine cabinet. Looking inside, he noted the first lady’s prescription for a hypoactive thyroid, a bottle of ibuprofen, various cold The Value of Valor

remedies, and the president’s asthma medications. The agent checked the president’s inhaler and his allergy drugs. Next he picked up the metered dose nasal spray the president used once daily in the morning to relieve his allergies. The agent placed the medicine in his left inside jacket pocket. From his right pocket, he removed an identical bottle containing carbon monoxide. Peering around to make sure no one was watching, he placed the new bottle on the shelf in the exact location from which he had removed the original. Satisfied, he closed the medicine cabinet and exited the room.

Kate picked up the phone in her office, wondering who would be calling her at this late hour. “Katherine Kyle.”

“Kate, I figured you might be working late.”

“Mr. President,” she sat up a little straighter, “what can I do for you?”

“How would you feel about a walk in the moonlight?”

Kate didn’t hesitate. “Yes, sir, I’ll be right there.” When the president said he wanted to take a walk outside, it usually meant he was troubled by something and that he wanted to talk outside the confines of the Oval Office. Kate put on her overcoat and hurried down the hall.

The president met her as she reached the door to the executive suite.

He led the way through the French doors, out onto the portico, and down a path that wound around the outside of the lawn. Two Secret Service agents trailed at a discreet distance; this was the closest they could come to being completely alone.

Kate matched the president’s long strides and waited for him to talk.

She noted that he looked troubled and distracted—a rare occurrence for him even under the most stressful of circumstances.

“You know, Kate, I’ve been in this business a long time—most of my adult life, really. I like to pride myself on the fact that I understand politics and politicians. Two things generally motivate them: ego and self-aggrandizement or a desire to help people. It’s been a long time since I’ve been shocked or befuddled by a politician’s actions.” He shook his head and fell silent for a moment.

Kate was content to stay quiet, waiting for the president to get to the point in his own time.

“Something’s happened, and I’m not really sure what to make of it.”

He turned his head to look at her for the first time.

“Can I help you, sir?”

“Yes, Kate, I believe you may be one of the few people I do trust to help me with this.”

“I’m flattered, sir.”

He nodded. “Do you remember when you had dinner with me and I got interrupted by a phone call?”

Lynn Ames

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you recall what it was about?”

“It was a friend of yours from college—Keith, I think you said his name was, the Agency’s number two man in the Pan Pacific region.”

“Right.”

“He said someone in the administration had authorized inciting a revolution in China. You hadn’t done any such thing and didn’t know anything about it.”

“Yes.”

“I take it you know more about it now.”

The president nodded. “It seems the vice president is the one who made the call.”

“That’s treason,” Kate said, flabbergasted.

“Yes, it is, which is exactly what I told him. But that’s not the most disturbing part.” The president sighed. “Bob Hawthorne was the one who talked him into being his stooge.”

“The chairman of the DNC?” she asked incredulously.

“Exactly.”

“What does Hawthorne have to gain by provoking a revolution in Communist China?” Kate wondered aloud.

“I keep asking myself the same question, and nothing comes to me.”

“If I may, sir, perhaps he’s just a puppet, as well.”

The president stopped walking and looked at Kate. His energy was palpable. “That’s what I’ve been thinking, too. But for whom? That’s the part I can’t figure.”

They resumed their stroll. “Who stands to gain from China opening its borders to the West?”

“Lots of folks, Kate. That’s why I summoned Hawthorne to a meeting tonight. I decided it was time I got some answers.”

“And?”

“He never showed. Not only that, but his assistant said he’d left the country this afternoon. She didn’t know anything else.”

“Vacation?”

“Sort of sudden, don’t you think?”

“Mmm.”

“To top it all off, I received a very mysterious call just a little while ago from Keith. Even though I assured him the line was secure, he said he couldn’t talk. He’s on the run. I don’t know where he is right now; he said he’s found out something that I need to know, but he can’t come directly to me.”

“Okay. How does he intend to get the information to you?”

The president took Kate by the elbow. “That’s where you come in.”

“It is?”

The Value of Valor

“How do you feel about black tie cocktail receptions?”

“Depends on who’s throwing the party.”

“The Russians.”

“Sounds like a recipe for a hangover.” Kate rolled her eyes.

The president laughed. “Normally, I’d agree with you. In this case, however, I’ve got something else in mind.” He stopped walking again and faced her. “I’ve arranged for Keith to meet you at a diplomatic reception tomorrow night at the Russian Embassy. You’ll be there as my emissary. He will be your escort. He’ll pass you the information.”

The president touched Kate on the sleeve. “I’ve tried to think of other ways to do this that wouldn’t involve you, Kate. I would rather send Peter to meet Keith. The truth is, I need someone at the reception whose presence won’t be questioned and who I know I can trust to help me get to the bottom of this. Peter has no official role in my administration. His appearance would raise a red flag. You, on the other hand…”

“I understand, Mr. President. I’m happy to be of service.”

“Once you have the information from Keith, you’ll come to the National Press Club, where as you know, I’ll be speaking tomorrow night. Since it’s natural for you to be present when I make public remarks, no one will question us being seen together. You’ll leave with me in the limo after the event, and you can tell me whatever it is that has Keith running scared.”

Kate would have laughed at the cloak and dagger nature of the plan, but it was obvious the president was not joking. “Do you think Keith’s in any danger, sir?”

“Yes, I do. Keith was always a very calm, cool, funny guy—not one given to histrionics. It’s not his style. He was really, really spooked when I talked to him tonight. Whatever he found out, it must be very serious.”

“Hopefully, we’ll know tomorrow night.”

“Yes. I want you to be careful, too. As I said, I hate to involve you in all this.”

“I’m glad I can help, sir. I’m flattered that you trust me with something this important.”

“I’d trust you with my life.”

“I appreciate that, sir. I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t. I tried to contact Peter to fill him in, but I got no answer.”

“Did you try his pager? He always answers that.”

“No, I decided it could wait until after we hear from Keith. There’s not much to tell him yet, anyway.”

“I can reach him if you want, sir. He’s in New York.”

“Working?”

“Tracking down a lead on Jay’s murder,” Kate said flatly.

Lynn Ames

“Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“That’s all right, sir. You’ve had a few things on your mind.”

They walked on in silence a while longer. “Kate, if you’re uncomfortable with this—”

“No, sir. I’m fine, really.”

“Shall we head back then?”

“Of course, sir.”

Later that night after the president had gone to bed and his daytime Secret Service shift had been relieved, Grayson’s private line rang.

“Yes?”

“It’s done.”

“Good. He doesn’t suspect anything?”

“No, sir.”

“Well done, Viper.”

“There’s a complication.”

“What is it?”

“Loose ends.”

“Tie them up.”

“Yes, sir. But there may be others we don’t know about.”

“Agreed. I’ll take care of that, you take care of the ones we do know about.”

“Consider it done. By this time tomorrow night, all will be secure.”

“Make sure of that.”

“Yes, sir. You have my word. I will not fail.”

On an impulse on her way home, Kate decided to stop by the condo Peter was renting while he was in D.C. She used the key he had given her to get in, sat down at the kitchen table, and wrote him a short note. She kept it deliberately vague, which she knew he would appreciate.

“Technowiz, I’ll be at a cocktail reception tomorrow night (Friday)on the arm of one of my boss’s oldest friends, who is returning to thiscountry unexpectedly from the Far East. My boss thinks we’ll have a lotto talk about; I promised him I would tell him all about it before theevening was over—he’s anxious to get the full report. He’s going to beworking across town visiting the fourth estate. Either he or I will fill youin afterward.”

Kate didn’t bother to sign the note—she knew Peter would know who had left it.

The Value of Valor

CHAPTER NINE

obert Hawthorne was jolted from sleep when the sailboat he’d R rented shifted sharply to the left. He rolled out of his queen-sized berth and made for the main deck. When he’d arrived on Paradise Island in the Bahamas the day before, he had arranged for a charter with two crew. After all, if he had to disappear, there was no reason he couldn’t do it in style.

“What just happened?” he asked of the skipper.

“We came about.”

“Why did you change course? I told you I wanted to head farther out.”

“It’s time for you to go home, Mr. Hawthorne.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I paid for a full week.”

The skipper, an unassuming, smallish Bahamian, laughed. In his lilting accent, he said, “I’m sure Mr. Grayson will reimburse you.”

Hawthorne’s eyes widened. “Who are you?”

“We are everywhere, Mr. Hawthorne.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“Back to the airport. Your plane is waiting.”

“As in a private plane?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going back to Washington?”

“Yes. It seems you are about to become a very important figure in American history.”

Hawthorne wanted to ask what the skipper meant by that but thought better of it. Instead he made his way back down below deck and packed his gear. He was rattled, more rattled than he wanted to let on. He had heard Grayson when he said they would find him, but he never imagined this scenario. How the hell had Grayson known where he was? He had told no one where he was going—not even his secretary. He supposed it was all part of the plan to keep him off balance and remind him of the Commission’s power. It was working.

Peter walked through the double doors of the squad room and into bedlam. Detectives were milling around talking or typing reports, desks Lynn Ames

were piled high with papers, and phones were ringing constantly. He walked to the back left corner of the room, as he had been instructed to do by the duty sergeant outside, stopping at the desk of Detective Richard Norton.

The man sitting at the desk appeared to be close to retirement age, with a balding pate and a protruding belly. His clothes were rumpled and looked as though he had slept in them; Peter figured he probably had.

“Detective Norton?”

Without looking up, the detective answered, “Who’s asking?” His accent clearly identified him as a Brooklyn native.

“Peter Enright.”

“So?”

“I wanted to ask you about a case you worked a long time ago. Can we talk?”

The detective continued to type, his fingers working in the halting hunt and peck style used by so many who never learned to type properly.

He still hadn’t looked at Peter. “I’m listening.”

“I’m interested in a perp by the name of Kirk Hexall. Went down for manslaughter in ’72.”

Detective Norton’s head snapped up. “Let’s take a walk.” He picked up his jacket from the back of his chair, shrugged into it, and led the way out and down to the street. It wasn’t until they were two blocks away that he said, “What’s your interest in Hexall?”

“Someone whitewashed his record. I want to know why.”

“You a private dick?”

“No. Hexall made an appearance at one of the inaugural balls in January, and I want to know what a guy like that is doing in D.C.

hobnobbing with the president.”

Detective Norton snorted. “Well, I see the punk is certainly coming up in the world.”

“What does that mean?”

“Kirk Hexall was a two-bit thug. Then he went and offed a woman who had the good sense to refuse a date with him. Guy’s got issues with rejection, I guess.”

“He copped a plea, I take it.”

“Yeah, the DA agreed to it because his caseload was too big. So Hexall did ten years in the big house, then disappeared.” Norton looked at Peter out of the corner of his eye. “I hear he went into business for himself as a private contractor.”

“I don’t suppose you’d have a line on his client list?”

“Nah, I lost track of him a few years back. Hadn’t thought about him much until some big shot from the governor’s office called my boss a few months back and ordered us to lose the file.”

The Value of Valor

Peter worked hard to keep his face neutral. “I take it you didn’t like that.”

“Like I said, Hexall is scum. Now he gets to start over? No, I didn’t like that at all.”

“Did you tell your boss you weren’t happy?”

“You bet I did. He just shrugged and said something like, ‘That’s politics.’ He ordered me to put the file on ice.”

“Let me guess, you took a copy home.”

Norton smirked at Peter. “Why would I do a thing like that?” He stopped in front of a dilapidated brownstone and opened the front door with a key. “I’m on the third floor.”

Peter gave most of the file a cursory glance, noticing the detective’s notations in some of the margins. He found what he was looking for on the last page, as he had hoped. There in the small space at the bottom of the page was a single handwritten line. “Record expunged by order of David Breathwaite, New York State Division of Criminal Justice Services.”

“You know the guy?” The detective had watched as a look of pure hatred briefly crossed Peter’s face, then disappeared.

“Yeah, I know him. He’s currently doing twenty-five to life for trying to have a friend of mine killed.”

“Hexall do his dirty work?”

“Not exactly, but I’m guessing he played a role.”

“I’d like to say I’m surprised, but I’d be lying.”

“Looks like Mr. Hexall and I are going to have a little meeting.”

“Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy. Hey, does this mean I can put his file back on the books?”

“You can as far as I’m concerned, but your boss might not like it.”

“He’ll be fine when I tell him where the high and mighty hotshot from the governor’s office is now.”

“Thanks for the help.”

“Yeah. Like I said, Hexall’s scum. If he’s hanging around at presidential balls, it’s because he’s up to something.”

“The only thing he’s going to be up to when I’m done with him is a ten-by-twelve cell at Sing Sing.”

Peter booked himself on the next flight to Washington out of LaGuardia. He wanted to tell Kate in person what he’d discovered.

Breathwaite had ordered the hit on Jay, using Hexall to carry it out.

Hexall must have donated enough money to earn him an invitation to the ball so he could get close to Kate and Jay, and he must have been listening when Jay told President Hyland about her next assignment.

Peter shook his head sadly. Jay had been killed to make Kate pay for putting Breathwaite behind bars. The superintendent at the Southport Lynn Ames

Correctional Facility where Breathwaite was being held was a friend; Peter planned to make a phone call to him very soon. Breathwaite no doubt was in the Special Housing Unit for his own protection. Perhaps a little time in the general population would be good for him.

President Hyland stood in front of the mirror in his bedroom trying for the fifth time to tie his bowtie; he was due at the National Press Club in thirty minutes. This was to be an important speech, one in which he outlined his goals for the next four years and established a good rapport with the media. He grunted in frustration as the silk slipped through his moist fingers.

“Let me help you with that.” Mimi Hyland slipped behind her husband and guided him to the bed. “Sit down over here so I can reach it.” She was worried about him. Twice in the past eight hours, he’d had to use his emergency inhaler. Normally, his asthma was so well controlled that he had no need to use it at all. She tied the knot with sure, quick movements.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” The president looked up at his beautiful wife. They’d been college sweethearts; he swore it was arguing with her about politics back then that made him such a sharp debater now.

She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. “You’re sweating.”

“A little.”

“Honey, are you feeling all right? Maybe we should call Ben.”

“I don’t need a doctor, Mimi. I’m okay. It’s just a little warm in here.”

Mimi shook her head. “No, it’s not, and I’m worried about you. First it was the difficulty breathing and now this.”

He pulled her to him. “I’m fine, sweetheart. It’s just been one of those days. You worry too much.”

“I love you, and this country and I need you to be healthy.”

“You don’t need to worry—I plan to stick around for a long, long time.”

“You’d better.”

“I’ve got to go. I’m going to be late.”

“I’ll see you later.” She smiled at him coyly. “If you’re a good boy, I might even wait up for you.”

“In that case, I’ll be very good and very brief.” He kissed her on the mouth before shrugging into his tuxedo jacket and walking through the doorway.

The diplomatic reception was in full swing when Kate walked through the doorway. Men in tuxedos and women in formal gowns mixed The Value of Valor

and mingled, drinking champagne while swapping pleasantries. Kate glanced around at the crowd, trying to locate the Russian ambassador; she was also scanning for Keith. The president had shown her an old college picture of the two of them together, so she had some idea what he looked like.

She spotted the ambassador by the fireplace; he was talking to a group of American businessmen, some of whom Kate recognized. Wayne Grayson, the head of Grayson Enterprises, Matthew Wood, CEO of Wood Communications, and Andre L’Andreu, the money behind Oxycon Oil, were laughing at something the ambassador said. Kate was curious about the coziness of the group but was more focused on the task before her. She closed the distance between her and the group, waited for an appropriate opening, and introduced herself to the ambassador.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Ambassador, but I bring you greetings from President Hyland. He was very sorry he could not attend himself, but as I’m sure you can imagine, he cannot be in two places at once.”

“My dear, Ms. Kyle,” he said in heavily accented English, “no offense to your new president, but I think I prefer your company, no?

You are beautiful woman.”

The men, standing in a loose semicircle, all murmured their agreement.

“Thank you, Mr. Ambassador, I am most flattered.”

“Have you met these lovely gentlemen?” The ambassador gestured to his companions.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

The ambassador made the introductions; Kate shook each man’s hand.

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” Grayson said. He moved off to address a man standing some twenty feet away, near the baby grand piano.

Kate watched him go, thinking to herself that the man with whom Grayson was engaged in conversation seemed oddly familiar to her.

Before she had time to ponder that notion further, she caught sight in her peripheral vision of a man she thought could be Keith.

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment, gentlemen.”

“Of course, Ms. Kyle,” said the ambassador. “Please be sure to give my best wishes and those of my government to your president.”

“I will, Mr. Ambassador.”

The man standing with Wayne Grayson by the piano whispered urgently. “She must have spotted the contact she was sent to meet.”

“You’re sure this mystery man knows too much?” Grayson asked.

“Positive. The president was very specific in his instructions. Kyle was to meet him, get the information, and report back immediately.”

Lynn Ames

“You’ve done well. Eliminate them both. They’re a threat to our plans and our organization.” Grayson wasn’t entirely comfortable trusting a job this important to one of the Viper’s underlings, but it was necessary. The Viper couldn’t be in two places at once, either, and taking care of the president was the top priority. This man, hired and trained by the Viper, would have to do.

“They will be dead before they can leave the grounds.”

Kate moved as casually as she could over to the bar area where Keith was standing. When she was right next to his ear, she whispered,

“You’ve got a little more gray hair than you did in college.”

Keith laughed nervously. “I’ve earned it. None of us, except for Charlie, of course, looks as good as we did back then. You must be Kate.”

“I am.”

“Charlie speaks very highly of you.”

“I think the world of him.”

“Good, then I can count on you to keep him safe.” Keith looked around the room. “We’ve got company.”

“I take it from the way you’re saying it, you don’t mean that in a good way.” Her eyes followed his over to where the man who had been talking with Grayson was still standing.

“I’m afraid not. He’s Secret Service.”

Kate tried to place him. “How do you know that?”

“It’s the way he stands, the way he scans the room.”

“That’s impressive.”

Keith laughed nervously again. “Or it could also be the fact that I’ve been through his dossier.”

“Oh. You know, you could’ve gotten away with me thinking it was just brilliant deductive reasoning on your part.”

“I can see why Charlie likes you. Okay, listen. I’m going to tell you what I know, then we’re going to have to devise an exit strategy.”

“Okay.”

“This thing is a lot bigger than we thought. The order may have come from someone high up in the administration—”

“It was the vice president.”

“Okay, that makes sense. Kate,” Keith locked eyes with her, “he’s nothing more than a pawn.”

“For Bob Hawthorne?”

“No. Hawthorne is a pawn, too.”

“Then who?”

“It’s a loosely organized syndicate known as the Commission. Its members are some of the wealthiest, most powerful men in the world.

Three of them are here tonight.”

The Value of Valor

“Grayson?”

“Yes, along with Wood and L’Andreu.”

“They’re looking to expand their markets to China?”

“Most likely. But it’s more than that—if they could set up factories and manufacturing plants in China, they could cut their production costs by millions.”

“Cheap labor.”

“Exactly.”

Kate’s mind was spinning. “How does that tie in with the president’s safety?”

“These people are intent on ‘opening up the world to democracy’ so that they can control the world’s economy. It’s not going to stop with China. They want the whole Communist bloc.”

“It sounds like you’ve seen too many old spy movies, Keith. The wealthy are going to take over the world?” The expression on his face was enough to convince her that he was dead serious.

“I wouldn’t be here—wouldn’t have risked everything—if I hadn’t seen the evidence myself,” Keith said vehemently.

“All right. I believe you. They’re pretty greedy, eh?”

“You don’t know the half of it. Charlie would never allow the kind of manipulation these power-hungry megalomaniacs have in mind. Now that he knows pieces of the plan and will put a stop to it, they need to get him out of the way.”

Kate tried to wrap her brains around the words. “Out of the way?”

“Yes, before he figures out who’s behind it and why, they’re going to take him down.”

“With one rogue Secret Service agent?”

“No, Kate. I wish that was all it was. The Commission has spent years getting ‘soldiers’ into place. They’ve used blackmail, coercion, bribes—anything you can think of. They have people everywhere, in every walk of life, ready to do their bidding.”

“Including the Secret Service.”

“Yes. I’m guessing either Hawthorne or the vice president or both are part of the Commission’s network.”

It was inconceivable to Kate that men at the very pinnacle of politics could be convinced to play with the balance of power in the world on behalf of a few selfish businessmen. “How do you know all this?”

“My boss is one of their pawns. I found a detailed diary he kept on the network. I think he was hoping to turn the tables and use it against them someday.”

“I take it you got caught snooping.”

“Unfortunately, yes. I barely managed to escape. Kate, you have to get this information to the pres—Charlie—before it’s too late. I think Lynn Ames

something is imminent.” His eyes implored her. “With my cover blown, I couldn’t risk going to him directly. I thought maybe there was still a chance I could get the information to him without them knowing.” He looked again in the Secret Service agent’s direction. “I can see it’s too late for that.”

Kate put a hand on Keith’s arm. “It’s okay. I promise you I won’t let you or the president down. I’ll leave right away.”

Keith glanced around the room. He saw an FBI agent blocking the back exit, the Secret Service agent he had identified before, and two others strategically placed around the room. He knew there was no way for both of them to make it. Softly, he said, “Kate, you’re a runner, right?”

“Is it that obvious?”

He smiled at her. “Let’s just say it’s clear that you’re in good shape.

We’ll never get out of here alive together. I count four hostiles—one FBI and three Secret Service.”

“Lousy odds.”

“Yes, they are, so we’re going to fix that. I’m going to create a diversion. As soon as I do, you need to make a break for the front door.

Are you ready?”

Kate took in Keith’s grim expression and the tears in his eyes. In a moment of clarity, she knew he was going to sacrifice himself so she could escape. “Is there no other way?”

“No. Good luck, Kate. Tell Charlie it’s been a privilege.”

Before she could say another word, he was moving across the room, weaving as though he’d had too much to drink. Along the way, he knocked into a waiter, spilling drinks on several individuals. He staggered into the piano, his hands landing hard on the keys, and he stumbled into the arms of a man Kate recognized as either FBI or Secret Service.

She saw a flash of metal she recognized as a gun with a silencer when the man’s coat fell open; it galvanized her to action. She began moving away from the commotion toward the front door. Just as she was reaching for the door handle, she felt a hand on her elbow.

She smelled cologne mingled with sweat and felt his breath hot on her ear.

“Ms. Kyle, President Hyland has asked me to escort you to the National Press Club.”

Kate turned and smiled at the Secret Service agent she’d seen with Grayson earlier. “Did he now? That was awfully thoughtful of him.

Thanks just the same, I brought my own car.” As she said the last word, she stomped as hard as she could on the agent’s foot with her stiletto The Value of Valor

heel, simultaneously twisting out of his grasp. She brought her knee up hard into his crotch and bolted out the door.

President Hyland was midway into his remarks. He was having trouble catching his breath and ran his fingers under his shirt collar in a vain effort to get more air. Sweat ran into his eyes as he struggled to read the words on the TelePrompTer. His stomach felt as though it was going to rebel. He paused for a moment, trying to regroup.

A buzz started through the audience as it became obvious that something was wrong with the president.

He coughed once and stumbled forward into the podium, grabbing his chest. Those around him on the dais rushed to his aid as he fell to the floor unconscious. Secret Service agents, including the Viper, surrounded him while others cleared the auditorium.

People ran in every direction, shouting instructions. In the midst of the pandemonium, the Viper administered a dose of pancuronium that would render the president paralyzed. Only his heart would continue to beat, but the Commission had that detail covered, too. Paramedics appeared with a gurney seconds later, one of them giving the Viper a knowing nod. He was the one who would ensure that the EKG adhesive pads were treated with a non-transmitting gel that would prevent the heartbeat from being detected. They took vital signs, hooked up IVs, and prepared the president for transport to Bethesda Naval Hospital.

Within five minutes of his collapse, the president was loaded into an ambulance. Lights and sirens blazing, it made its way, accompanied by a phalanx of other official vehicles, along the emergency route mapped out in advance by the Secret Service.

As the president’s medical team assembled at Bethesda awaiting the ambulance’s arrival, a Secret Service agent approached a middle-aged doctor waiting at the emergency room doors. “Dr. Conrad? Dr. Benjamin Conrad?”

“Yes,” the president’s personal physician replied.

“Please come with me, sir.” When it looked as though he would resist, the agent added, “There’s been a change in plans. Please, Doctor, there’s no time to waste.”

Ben Conrad followed the agent down a series of hallways to a stairwell on the opposite side of the building from the emergency entrance. As the agent opened the door to the stairwell, the doctor asked,

“What’s going on here? Where are you taking me?”

The agent shoved the doctor roughly through the doorway and down a flight of stairs. Before the doctor could get up, the agent was on him, propelling him outside and into the backseat of a waiting car. The agent spoke into a microphone on his lapel. “We’ve got him.”

Lynn Ames

In his earpiece, he heard Wayne Grayson say, “Good, now get rid of him and make it look like an overdose.”

“Affirmative.” He removed a kit containing a syringe and a bottle of clear liquid from the pocket behind the passenger seat. As the doctor struggled, the agent pushed up the sleeve of his lab coat and jabbed the needle into his arm. The doctor convulsed for several seconds before going limp.

“Okay,” the agent said to the driver. “Let’s take the doctor to Rock Creek Park.”

When they reached their destination, the driver and the agent dumped the body in the woods along with the syringe, which had been wiped clean of fingerprints.

Back at the hospital, Dr. Jonathan Englert slid nonchalantly into the position of lead physician to the president. He stood by the door awaiting the arrival of the presidential ambulance. When someone asked him what had happened to Dr. Conrad, he shrugged. “I don’t know. He just asked me to relieve him.” The nurse to his right winked.

Seconds later, the ambulance pulled to a screeching halt outside the emergency entrance. Paramedics bearing the gurney jumped out, yelling out as they went the events that had transpired, the lack of vital signs, and that they had been following advanced cardiac life support protocols.

“Patient is unresponsive.”

“Patient is in acute respiratory failure and has been connected to a portable ventilator.”

Dr. Englert shouted instructions as the gurney was wheeled down the hall and into a special wing of the hospital. The place was pure bedlam.

When the president had been shifted from the gurney to a treatment table, Dr. Englert ordered all non-essential personnel to clear the room.

Three nurses and two other doctors remained, along with an ER

technician and the Viper, as the president was connected to an EKG

monitor. The monitor registered no activity.

Dr. Englert ordered another round of sodium bicarbonate and epinephrine. When that failed, he charged the prearranged faulty defibrillator paddles and attempted to revive the president. His efforts, repeated several times, yielded no success. After twenty-five minutes in which all manner of resuscitation was attempted, Dr. Englert pronounced the president dead. He ordered the machines disconnected, exited the room, and prepared for the unhappy task of informing the first lady of the president’s death from acute respiratory and cardiac failure.

The Value of Valor

CHAPTER TEN

ow is he? What’s going on? Where’s Ben?” Mimi Hyland

“H was frantic, her eyes wild.

“I’m Dr. Englert, ma’am. Dr. Conrad got called away unexpectedly.”

Englert wiped beads of sweat from his forehead. “I regret to inform you that your husband—the president—is dead.”

“Wha—” It couldn’t be. Charlie was in great shape. “No. I don’t believe you. Where’s Ben? I want to see Ben.” Tears flowed freely down her cheeks. She lunged forward, pounding the doctor in the chest with her fists.

Englert backed up a step, surprised by the first lady’s outburst and unsure what to do next.

The Viper stepped in between her and the doctor, catching her fists in midair as she continued to sob hysterically.

She stopped, suddenly aware of her position and her surroundings.

Charlie would be appalled. She stood up straight and removed a tissue from her purse, dabbing at her eyes and blowing her nose. Despite the fact that she felt as if her insides were being ripped out, she lifted her chin, looking the doctor directly in the eye.

“I apologize. As you can imagine, this comes as a great shock to me.”

“I’m sure it does, ma’am.”

“I’d like to see my husband now.”

A look of panic flitted across the doctor’s face. They had not planned for this. There wasn’t time. He silently calculated the number of minutes that had passed since he had declared the president dead. If he didn’t get the president back on a ventilator within the next two minutes, the man could be permanently brain damaged.

The Viper spoke. “Ma’am, it is against protocol, but I think everyone would understand if we gave you an opportunity to see your husband.”

He met the doctor’s eyes over the first lady’s head.

“Yes, yes, of course. If you’ll just give me a minute.”

Englert hustled back through the door, grabbing the nurse who had assisted him. “Put him on a portable ventilator for two minutes.”

“But…”

Lynn Ames

“Do it now. Then remove the ventilator and cover him again with the sheet.”

The Viper waited outside the treatment room with the first lady while Englert and the nurse worked frantically inside.

“What’s taking so long?” the first lady asked, just as the door swung open.

“I’m sorry for the delay. Right this way, ma’am.” The doctor escorted Mrs. Hyland into the room where her husband lay covered by a white sheet. All the Secret Service agents present snapped to attention.

When he reached the hospital bed, the doctor turned to the first lady.

“Are you ready?”

She sucked in a deep breath. “Doctor, I will never be ready for this, but I would never forgive myself if I didn’t say goodbye to the man I will always—” Her voice faltered. “Always love.”

Dr. Englert pulled back the sheet and stepped aside.

Mimi looked down at the still, peaceful, pale face of the only man she had ever loved and felt a piece of her soul shatter. “Charlie,” she whispered as she framed his face with her hands.

The doctor shifted uneasily, afraid beyond words that she would lay her head on his chest and hear his heart beating. Sweat rolled down his back.

“Ma’am?” One of the Secret Service agents touched her elbow. “I’m sorry, but we really should go.” He did not answer the voice talking into his earpiece, telling him to get her the fuck out of there.

“Yes,” she sniffed. “Yes, of course.” She looked down one more time, leaned forward, and placed a tender kiss on her husband’s lips. “My love for you will never die.”

The Secret Service agent hustled her out of the room.

“This is the Viper,” the agent said into the tiny microphone transmitter on his lapel.

“What’s your status?” Wayne Grayson’s disembodied voice queried.

“Everything is a go, the package has been disposed of, and replacement parts have arrived.”

“Are they working?”

“Affirmative. The parts are in place, the machines have been shut down for repairs, and we’re ready to switch over to the new system.”

“Affirmative. Transportation has been arranged. Proceed with the transfer via route one. After that, I advise you to take a mental health day.”

“Affirmative.”

The Value of Valor

Grayson ended the transmission with the Viper and turned to his colleagues. The three of them were standing in a corner of the parking lot behind the Russian Embassy. Wood and L’Andreu were pacing nervously.

“It’s done.”

“He’s…?” Wood started to ask.

“Taking a mental health break,” Grayson broke in quickly.

“I still say we ought to make it a permanent holiday,” L’Andreu said.

“No.” Grayson was adamant.

“Why not?”

Grayson tried to rein in his temper. “We already have solid information that Hyland knows major pieces of the plot. What we don’t know is who he’s told.”

“I thought you said Kyle was the problem,” L’Andreu said, inclining his head in the direction of the reception still going on inside.

“And her contact,” Wood added.

“Both of them are as good as dead,” Grayson answered. “I’ve got men inside taking care of it even as we speak.”

“That solves the problem then.”

“Not necessarily.” Grayson was growing impatient. “It’s quite possible that Hyland might have contacted other foreign leaders, in which case we would have to adjust our strategy. We’ve come too far to fail now. We must leave nothing to chance.”

“Why not just question him now, then ki…” Wood began to ask.

“Sir?” A breathless voice asked loudly in Grayson’s ear. He held up his hand to Wood and L’Andreu.

“Go ahead.”

“She’s running.”

“What?”

“We’re in pursuit.”

“Affirmative,” Grayson growled, dismissing Wood and L’Andreu as he summoned his limousine. “Keep me posted.” He had work to do.

The Viper returned to the hospital room where the president’s body, guarded by the lead agent’s men, lay completely covered with a sheet once again. He spoke a few quiet words to Dr. Englert, then motioned to several other Secret Service agents standing by to move the president’s body to a portable gurney.

“We’re going to take the back elevator to the morgue—basement floor.”

Two agents lined up solemnly alongside the top half of the gurney; two others preceded the wheeled bed as the doors to the treatment suite Lynn Ames

opened automatically to allow them egress. The Viper brought up the rear.

The group proceeded quickly through the corridor and into a large elevator at the far end of the hall that carried them to the basement of Bethesda Naval Hospital. Once there, the Viper dismissed the four agents, replacing them with a fresh complement of dark-suited, blank-faced men.

“Load the body into the ambulance.”

The men, without comment or visible emotional reaction, did as they were instructed.

The nondescript ambulance, devoid of windows in the back passenger area, opened to reveal a complicated set of equipment, Dr. Englert, two paramedics, and a nurse—the same one who had been in the emergency room entranceway when the president had been wheeled in.

“You know what to do,” the Viper said to Englert, before moving around to get into the front passenger seat of the vehicle. Turning to the driver, he said, “No lights, no sirens, no hurry. Take the shortest route to the National Institute of Mental Health, but keep a watch on the mirrors.

We don’t want any overzealous reporters getting too nosy.”

“Right, sir.”

In the back of the ambulance, the doctor and his assistants began their work.

Englert peeled back the sheet that covered the president’s body.

“Hook up the IV, stat.” He checked for a pulse, listened to the president’s chest, and pulled back. “Resume ventilation. Right now.”

Without hydration and ventilation, it would only be a matter of minutes before the pancuronium would cause the president to suffocate.

The nurse and one of the paramedics worked quickly and efficiently to connect the president to the machine that would breathe for him since he was incapable of doing so for himself. The second paramedic inserted an IV needle in the president’s left arm, secured it, connected the tubing from the IV bag to it, and hung the bag on a pole. Immediately, he opened the valve that would allow a solution of normal saline, five percent dextrose, and a steady drip of the poison to flow. It was this cocktail that would keep the president both alive and incapacitated indefinitely.

None of the members of the Commission’s elite medical team questioned the orders they had been given. It was simply their job to ensure that the man in their care remained helpless but alive.

The Viper keyed his microphone. “Everything okay back there?”

Englert replied via the intercom system. “The patient is stable but unconscious, just as requested.”

The Value of Valor

“Very well. We’ll be arriving momentarily. I am told everything is in order. Remember—this needs to proceed like clockwork.”

“Yes, yes. We’ve all been through enough drills to know exactly how this is supposed to work.”

“There can be no mistakes. Make sure there aren’t any.” The Viper clicked off his mic.

The ambulance arrived at a secret entrance to the NIMH facility seconds later, the driver pulling the vehicle into an underground garage, out of sight of any prying eyes. As soon as the vehicle stopped moving, the back doors were flung open. Two paramedics who had been awaiting the arrival of the ambulance assisted in transferring the patient to another gurney while the paramedics who had traveled with the president continued to provide ventilation. The nurse took charge of transitioning the IV to a mobile pole. In less than two minutes, they were inside the building; within five, they had the patient in the medical suite where he would be kept until they received further orders.

Robert Hawthorne sat in the limo, his palms sweating. He could not fathom that the man across from him could be so cavalier, so matter-of-fact about something as calculating as killing the president of the United States.

“It would behoove you to wipe that look of shock off your face, Robert. You’re about to be the next vice president of the United States.”

“How do you figure that?”

“With the president dead, Wheeler will be sworn in as president, leaving a vacancy in the number two position.” Grayson had already decided that Hawthorne did not need to know that the president wasn’t actually dead. The fewer people who knew, the easier it would be to control the situation. “When our boy Wheeler takes the oath, he will nominate you as vice president and rush your approval through the Senate.”

“What makes you think they’ll comply?”

“You’re a known quantity. His rationale will be that you are experienced in government and foreign affairs—you’ve served in elective office.”

“Not all those people were my friends.”

“True. Regardless, they will confirm you. A smooth, quick transition will provide stability to our government and send a message of solidarity and control to all other nations.”

“What’s the timetable?”

“The medical team has just declared the president dead. I suggest you get over to the National Press Club and help Deputy Press Secretary Lynn Ames

Vendetti with the spin, then have a chat with the soon-to-be new president.”

Hawthorne was reeling. “Why Vendetti? Where’s Kyle?”

“The press secretary is presently indisposed.”

“What does that mean?”

“Never mind,” Grayson snapped. “Just get the players in line and make sure this goes smoothly.” His expression was a cross between a smirk and a sneer. “I’m sure your daughter Emily will appreciate your efforts.”

Hawthorne felt sick to his stomach. He lurched out of the car, trying his hardest not to vomit on the sidewalk.

A frazzled Michael Vendetti faced Robert Hawthorne across a desk in a private office at the National Press Club. He had been unable to locate Kate anywhere.

“I don’t know what to do.” He paced back and forth behind the desk.

“Since all the press is already gathered here, you need to go out and make a statement, Michael.”

Vendetti shook his head and shifted his feet uncertainly. “I don’t have anything official, and no one’s authorized me to say anything.”

“I’m authorizing you,” Hawthorne said through gritted teeth.

Vendetti looked at him, a dazed expression on his face. “You?”

“Yes, me.”

“On what authority?”

Hawthorne was losing patience. “Listen, you little pissant. I’m about to be named vice president; you’ll do what I say.”

“You…?”

“You find that surprising?”

“No, I-I mean, I don’t know,” he finished weakly. “What am I supposed to tell them?”

“That President Hyland is dead, that the cause of death is pending, and that Vice President Wheeler will be sworn in as president within the hour.”

“Shouldn’t I wait for Kate?”

“There’s no time. We can’t have a power vacuum while you wait for your boss to show up.”

Vendetti picked up the phone and alerted the press room attendant to tell the assembled reporters that he would be right out to make a statement.

Keith barely caught a glimpse of Kate as she made her escape from the Secret Service agent at the door. Good for you. Go, Kate. Run like thewind.

The Value of Valor

He was being dragged forcibly from the room by the other three men.

They were headed in the general direction of the kitchen. Keith had no illusions; he knew they would torture him to find out what information he had, then they would kill him.

I’ve got to give Kate and Charlie a fighting chance. He struggled to free his right hand, which was no easy task since his arms were pinned to his sides. He wiggled his fingers until he could reach inside his jacket pocket. With difficulty, he found what he was looking for and wrapped his fingers around it. Good luck, Kate, you’ll need it. He wrenched his arm free with a mighty yank, brought his hand to his mouth, and bit down on the capsule.

“Hey, grab that arm.”

“Stop him!”

“Damn it all to hell.”

Keith convulsed several times, foam spewing from his mouth, then went completely limp.

“He’s dead.”

“No shit, Sherlock. How’re we going to explain this one?”

“It wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t in charge of his arms.”

“Shut up. The boss isn’t going to care who had his arms and who had his legs, idiots.”

“Let’s get him out of here.”

Keith was dragged unceremoniously the rest of the way through the kitchen and out into the side alley, where his captors conveniently found a wino passed out with a half-empty bottle of booze on his chest.

Liberating the liquor, they poured generous amounts on Keith’s face and clothes until he reeked of the stuff. They searched his pockets, ripped his jacket and shirt, and removed his tie before leaving him on the dirty ground. Just another dead drunk in D.C.

Kate ran, heedless of the rain that cascaded against her bare shoulders and mostly bare back, oblivious to the cold droplets as they pooled in the lacy nest created by the plunging neckline of her gown and her strapless bra.

She fled down the steps of the Russian Embassy on Connecticut Avenue, the heavy door closing briefly behind her, blocking out the noise of the reception still in full swing inside. She slipped through the wrought iron gate and down past the Churchill Hotel.

She tried hard not to think about that last vision of Keith, his eyes looking haunted, yet determined. She knew he was a dead man, although she wanted to believe otherwise. She would be finished, too, if she could not elude the men following her and get to the president in time. She wasn’t even sure when or how she could get to him.

Lynn Ames

She only knew that she needed to outrun her pursuers, give them the slip, and get someplace safe, where she could regroup and figure out what to do next. Her brain tried to register her surroundings. Although she had lived in Washington, D.C., for months and had visited many times even before that for business and pleasure, she was still nowhere near proficient in her knowledge of the area.

She sprinted the half mile down the hill toward DuPont Circle. A quick glance behind her revealed three running forms, their tuxedos neatly outlined in the street lights that lined the thoroughfare. An errant beam of light glinted off the barrel of a gun resting comfortably in the hand of the man in the lead.

In a moment of clarity amidst the insanity whirling around her, Kate realized that although she might be able to outdistance them for a block or two more, every step they gained brought her closer to a bullet in the back. She made a snap decision and turned quickly down Q Street, her eyes seeking, then finding, an available cab idling at the light.

She jumped in just as the light was changing, startling the cabbie, a Pakistani man in his mid-twenties who had been chatting amiably on the two-way radio with either his dispatcher or his girlfriend, she wasn’t sure which. She ordered him to step on it; one glance at the attractive, disheveled woman in the ruined dress in his backseat convinced him that she meant it. He pounded on the gas pedal, his back tires sliding sideways on the rain-slicked road until his tires grabbed purchase on the pavement.

“Where to?” he asked.

She didn’t answer for a minute, as she was turned all the way around in the seat, staring out the back window. The element of surprise had been in her favor; they hadn’t expected her to commandeer a vehicle like that. But they wouldn’t be far behind. She knew they had two-way radios and cars of their own on the way. At most, she had gained a few minutes reprieve. Where to, indeed. Should she run directly to the president?

“Lady, are you all right?”

She wasn’t really sure how to answer that. No, she most certainly was not all right. She was the most hunted woman in the country at the moment, with a face that was recognizable to anyone who paid any attention to American politics, and she had no real game plan. Okay.

Time to get the brain cells working again, now that the adrenaline rush was wearing off for the moment.

“I need to get to the National Press Club.”

The cabbie snorted. “Are you crazy? Lady, we can’t get anywhere near there.”

“Why not?”

The Value of Valor

“Haven’t you heard? The president died there less than half an hour ago.”

“What are you talking about?” Kate felt a cold dread take root in the pit of her stomach.

“Well, he wasn’t exactly gone; they took him away in an ambulance.

They just broke in to my favorite talk show to say he’d kicked the bucket at the hospital.”

As if to emphasize the point, the cabbie turned up the radio.

“…to repeat then, President Charles Hyland, less than two months into his first term, has died after collapsing during a speech to journalists at the National Press Club in Washington. Official word from the White House came just moments ago from Deputy Press Secretary Michael Vendetti…”

“…this is a sad and difficult day for the people of this nation and the world. President Hyland was a great man. Let no one think, however, that the president’s death leaves America weak. As spelled out in the Constitution, Vice President Alton Wheeler will be sworn in as president by the chief justice of the United States. The ceremony will take place in the Oval Office within the hour.”

Kate thought she would be sick. To the cabbie, she said, “Go a few blocks—weave in and out of cars as fast as you can. Then slow down to normal speed, double back around, and drop me off at the Washington Hilton, okay?”

“Okay,” the cabbie drew the word out, looking at her as though she had lost her mind.

In the backseat, Kate opened her purse to reveal a clunky cell phone.

She’d been reluctant to carry the monstrosity, but the president had insisted she take it with her to the embassy. She was grateful to him beyond words. Thinking about him made her eyes tear up. She got to work in earnest.

She called the operator, getting the phone numbers for four airlines: Delta, USAir, United, and American. She made reservations from three different airports—Dulles, National, and Baltimore-Washington International, going to eight different destinations. All the flights were scheduled to depart on time, and all were less than two hours from departure. Just for good measure, she called Amtrak and booked herself on the Metroliner train to Boston out of BWI.

By this time, the cabbie was approaching the light at Connecticut and Q, on his way up the street to the Hilton. Kate slumped low in her seat and scanned the area quickly. All clear. Not even anyone guarding the Metro stop. Not, she reminded herself, that they would all stand out and look like the G-men that they were. So she turned her attention once again to the area directly around the top of the stairs and escalators Lynn Ames

leading down into the Metro. She evaluated every homeless person, every waiting businessman, every person who looked even slightly suspicious. But even her imagination, which was on hyper drive at this point, could find nothing out of the ordinary.

The cabbie pulled to a stop, and Kate handed him a fifty-dollar bill, telling him to keep the change, hoping that he would remember her. She strode purposefully into the lower lobby and over to the Super Shuttle, which ran limos and buses to all the area airports. She booked a one-way trip to BWI using her MasterCard. The shuttle was scheduled to depart in fifteen minutes.

Next she slipped into the ladies room, looking at her reflection in the mirror and trying to make some order out of the mess. Deciding that her elegant, if soggy, black silk sheath was far too conspicuous, she took the escalator up one flight to the main lobby. Off to the left, she spied the small gift shop replete with T-shirts, shorts, and sweatpants for the tourists. She browsed the rack quickly, selecting a T-shirt that appealed to her ironic sense of humor, a pair of black sweatpants with an American flag plastered on the front left leg, and a cheap pair of Nike knockoffs with white sweat socks.

She disappeared into the upstairs bathroom, where she peeled off her dress, slip, and pantyhose, exchanging them for her black T-shirt with the

“FBI” emblazoned in white on the front, the sweats, and sneakers. She balled the ruined dress up and put it in the garbage, making sure to cover it with some other trash. She exited the front door of the main lobby and hailed a cab that was waiting for guests heading out for an evening on the town.

She checked her watch, nodding a little to herself. “DuPont Circle Metro station, please.”

The cabbie, this one an older man in his fifties with flaming red hair, swore under his breath about tourists who didn’t know enough to realize that the Metro station was only several short blocks away.

When they arrived at the stop, Kate again took a careful look around.

All quiet. She handed the cabbie a ten-dollar bill, not wanting to give him so much money that she would call attention to herself this time, and got out, disappearing immediately down the escalator with a crowd of twenty-somethings already well on their way to wicked hangovers. She sighed, mumbling, “Just another Friday night in D.C.”

Kate took the Metro to National Airport, arriving at the USAir first-class counter with thirty-five minutes to go until her flight to Phoenix departed. She picked up her ticket at the counter and headed for the gate.

On the way, she passed a Wilson’s House of Leather store. She hesitated for a moment, then stepped inside. Within five minutes, she had paid cash for and changed into a sleek pair of black leather pants and a soft, The Value of Valor

short, black leather jacket over her FBI T-shirt. She also bought a small black leather carry-on into which she stuffed the sweatpants. Then it was off to the gate and her waiting flight.

Kate was one of the last to board, and as she did so, she ran her eyes over the passengers within her line of sight. Nothing seemed out of place.

She breathed a small sigh of relief, sat down in first class, and accepted the proffered soft drink from the flight attendant. The plane took off without incident and climbed to its cruising altitude of thirty-five thousand feet. When the flight attendant appeared at her elbow with a choice of chicken parmesan or stuffed filet of sole, Kate was reminded that she hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast. She accepted the steaming portion of stuffed sole gratefully and dug in, knowing it might be her last peaceful meal for quite a while.

Having polished off the main course and a chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream sundae for good measure, Kate reclined in her seat. She wanted to sleep, but she was afraid to let down her guard that far. So instead she gazed out at the night and contemplated all that had happened in her life in the last few months.

Peter stepped off the plane at Dulles, anxious to share his news with Kate. He made his way directly outside, having carried on only a small bag, and hailed a taxi waiting at the curb. When he gave the driver his address, he noticed that the man seemed completely distracted, and the radio was turned up so that Peter couldn’t help but hear it.

“…to repeat then, President Charles Hyland, less than two months into his first term, has died after collapsing during a speech to journalists at the National Press Club in Washington. Official word from the White House came just moments ago from Deputy Press Secretary Michael Vendetti…”

“…this is a sad and difficult day for the people of this nation and the world. President Hyland was a great man. Let no one think, however, that the president’s death leaves America weak. As spelled out in the Constitution, Vice President Alton Wheeler will be sworn in as president by the chief justice of the United States. The ceremony will take place in the Oval Office within the hour.”

Peter sat in stunned silence in the backseat. Dead? The president was dead? And why was Vendetti giving the statement instead of Kate?

Under the circumstances, it was clear to Peter that he would never be able to get anywhere near the White House.

“Stop at that gas station for a minute and wait for me, will you?” he asked the cabbie.

Lynn Ames

Before the taxi had even come to a complete stop, Peter was out of the backseat, striding toward the phone booth. He dropped change into the slot and dialed Kate’s private number in the West Wing.

“Katherine Kyle’s office,” Kate’s assistant answered the phone.

He had met her several times before while visiting the White House.

He found her to be efficient and protective of Kate—attributes he admired.

“This is Peter Enright, is Kate there?”

“Oh, Peter. It’s the strangest thing. I can’t seem to find her. She told me she had a diplomatic reception to go to this evening, then she was going to meet up with the president at the National Press Club.” She choked on the end of the sentence.

“When’s the last time you heard from her?” A tight knot formed in his stomach.

“When she told me her schedule. That was it. She never showed up at the Press Club. Isn’t that odd?”

“Yes, it is.”

“And right after that, well, I expect you know what happened right after that,” she sobbed.

“If she calls in, would you please tell her I’m looking for her?”

“Of course. Isn’t it just awful?”

Peter hung up the phone before the woman was done talking.

When he got back in the cab, he directed the driver to take him to Kate’s place, instead of his condo.

Peter let himself in with the key Kate had given him so that he’d be able to let Fred out when necessary. The dog greeted him enthusiastically, talking like a Wookie from Star Wars and weaving in and out of his legs.

“Hey, buddy. Where’s your mom?” Peter didn’t see anything out of place, and it was clear that the dog had been fed dinner. If Kate had gone to a diplomatic reception, she would’ve come home to change first. She must have fed him then, Peter figured.

He searched the rest of the town house, finding nothing out of the ordinary. The dog followed him everywhere. “Do you need to go out, Fred? Huh? What do you say?” He snapped a leash on the dog, taking him out through the garage. Kate’s car was still there. Peter put a hand on the hood—it was cool to the touch. Something wasn’t right.

Instinct born out of years of experience informed his next move. He went back inside, found the spare key to Kate’s car, loaded Fred inside, and moved it a block away. He got out, let the dog out of the backseat, and locked the car.

“Come on, buddy, this may be the last walk you get until morning.

Better make it count.”

The Value of Valor

Although he didn’t want to take the time, Peter couldn’t begrudge Fred his outing—Kate wouldn’t want him to. They walked along the river, Fred stopping to sniff at the grass, trees, and anything else he could find. As they made their way back toward the town house, Peter pulled the dog up short. A nondescript black sedan was just pulling in front of Kate’s place; three men hopped out. Peter made them out immediately as black ops. He and Fred watched from the shadows as the men broke into the town house.

“Okay, buddy. That’s it. Let’s go.” Peter jogged in the opposite direction, the dog easily keeping stride with him. He loaded Fred in the backseat of Kate’s car once again, got in, and revved the engine as he took off.

He had been smart to move Kate’s car—one more possibility for the goons to consider when trying to figure out where she’d gone. Without the car, they would have to consider that she might have come back for it. He tried to puzzle through the clues himself.

He knew that Kate would never have gone missing at a time like this—not voluntarily, anyway. That meant she was in trouble. Peter was having difficulty figuring out why she would go to a reception instead of accompanying the president to his first major address in front of the national media. She wouldn’t have done so unless ordered to do it by President Hyland.

Peter checked his rearview mirror as he had been doing since he left Kate’s—all clear. He pulled up to his rented condo in Alexandria and drove the car into the extra space in his garage. It was best to keep it out of sight. He let Fred off the leash before opening the door, knowing from experience that if he didn’t, the dog would pull his arm off trying to get inside to find the toys he knew Peter kept handy for him.

Peter turned on lights as he made his way into his bedroom, where he stowed his gear. He could hear Fred squeaking the stuffed puppy he kept in a toy box in the kitchen, and he followed the noise, figuring Fred would be thirsty. As he filled the water bowl, he noticed a single piece of paper on the table.

“Technowiz, I’ll be at a cocktail reception tomorrow night (Friday)on the arm of one of my boss’s oldest friends, who is returning to thiscountry unexpectedly from the Far East. My boss thinks we’ll have a lotto talk about; I promised him I would tell him all about it before theevening was over—he’s anxious to get the full report. He’s going to beworking across town visiting the fourth estate. Either he or I will fill youin afterward.”

He read the note twice. The president sent Kate to meet with his CIA contact and report back. Peter reddened as a flash of anger washed through him. Why on earth would the president put Kate in such danger?

Lynn Ames

Just as quickly, he shoved his pique aside. There would be time for recriminations later. Obviously, Kate and the CIA man had been made.

Not good. Peter picked up the phone.

“Dr. Jones.”

“Barbara? It’s Peter.”

“Hey, stranger. How goes the war?”

“Can you get down here tonight?”

“I can sure try. I think there’s one more shuttle tonight. If I can get a seat on it, I can be there before midnight.”

“Good. I need you to come to my condo. Fred’s here, and he needs some company.”

“What’s the matter? You sound strange.”

“Our friend had to go out of town suddenly, and she left something behind. I’m going to try to track her down.” He was sure his place wasn’t bugged, and he had taken the usual precautions to ensure that the condo lease was not traceable to him, but still…he didn’t like to take chances, so he kept his remarks cryptic. “You can stay here, the security is top notch, so there shouldn’t be anything to worry about.” He hoped Barbara understood what he was trying to tell her.

“How long will you be gone? And what if you don’t find her in time?”

“I wish I knew. I’ll be in touch as soon as I can. You know where to find the key?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Thanks, Barbara. You’re a lifesaver.”

“No, but I’m hoping you will be.”

“I’ll be in touch.”

Peter ran down the hallway to his office, opened a file drawer with a key, removed several weapons, a passport, a cell phone, and a stash of emergency cash. He grabbed his still-packed bag, checked one more time to make sure Fred was all set, and bolted out the door. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he knew had to do something.

The Value of Valor

CHAPTER ELEVEN

lton Wheeler’s eyes were as big as saucers. “What exactly A happened to the president?” He swallowed hard, understandably frightened. He’d seen the president just the day before and he had looked the picture of health. As much as the vice president despised Charles Hyland, his sudden death from natural causes seemed incomprehensible.

Robert Hawthorne wheeled back from the window, where he was watching the lights wink in the distance. “It doesn’t matter. Do exactly as you’re told, and everything will be fine.”

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter? If I’m going to be president, I want to know.” Hawthorne’s answers were making him even more uneasy.

“Don’t push me, Al.” Hawthorne was tired, frazzled, and debating what he wanted to tell the man who would be president.

“How am I supposed to know how to act if I don’t know the facts?”

“You know everything you need to know—the president is dead. You need to take the oath of office and make a speech to the nation letting them know that you intend to carry on the president’s agenda.”

“I thought he wasn’t headed where we wanted the country to go.”

Hawthorne regretted, not for the first time, having picked someone with the IQ of a dead turtle to be his puppet. Then again, he knew anyone smarter wouldn’t be so easy to control. He sighed. “He wasn’t, but the people don’t need to know that. Right now they’re reeling, and they want stability. They want to think you’re going to give them that.”

“Oh.”

“You’re also going to announce that you’re nominating me to be vice president.”

“Wait just a cotton picking minute.” Wheeler didn’t like being told what to do. “I haven’t had any time to consider. I want to do what’s right for the country.”

Hawthorne had run out of patience. “You’ll do what I tell you to do or your ugly little secret will become a very public nightmare for you.”

“What in the devil are you talking about? You don’t have anything on me.” As he became increasingly agitated, Wheeler’s Southern accent became more pronounced.

Lynn Ames

“I know all about your little sister and how your father bought off the cops.”

“W-what?” Wheeler’s ears burned and his vision began to tunnel.

Hawthorne hadn’t meant to use his ace, but now that he had, he would finish the job. “That’s right. I know all about how you strangled little Bobbi Christina with your sock and threw her body in the pond.”

Wheeler sat heavily in his chair, covering his eyes as he wept uncontrollably, the memories of that day flooding back to him as they had so often in his dreams. “I didn’t mean to do it,” he repeated over and over, his words a broken whisper.

Hawthorne didn’t know what he had expected Wheeler’s reaction to be, but it wasn’t that. “Pull yourself together, man. We’ve got a country to run.”

After long moments, Wheeler said, “What do you need me to do?”

The vice president’s voice and posture were those of a man defeated.

“I need you to do exactly as I say.” Hawthorne shoved a speech into Wheeler’s limp hands.

“What’s this?”

“You’re going to call in the congressional leaders and the members of the president’s Cabinet. You’re going to give them copies of this speech, making it clear that there is no room for negotiation—you’re merely sharing it with them as a courtesy.”

“What if they question me?”

“Don’t leave room for questions—the American people are waiting—

they need to see a unified front.”

“Okay.”

“You’re going to deliver this speech from the Oval Office, and you’re going to make it convincing. You’re going to look like a man in mourning but resolved to carry on the people’s business. Then you’re going to go to the Senate and push my nomination through so that I’m confirmed as vice president.”

“What if they won’t approve you?”

“They’ll have to—national security and continuity are at stake. You’ll just have to sell it to them.”

Wheeler nodded dumbly, wondering how in the world he would pull this off.

Wayne Grayson was not happy. “What do you mean ‘we lost her?’”

He listened for a moment before thundering into the phone, “Find her!

And when you do, kill her. Make it look like a suicide.” His mind was whirling. He hadn’t initially anticipated having to take out the president’s press secretary. He hadn’t thought Hyland’s man would be alive long enough to make contact with her. But the idiot had, and the fallout would The Value of Valor

have to be dealt with. Kyle was a dead woman; Grayson knew that as surely as he knew the country was the Commission’s to control. He couldn’t be certain what she’d been told or even what her contact had known before they’d captured him. They hadn’t had time to question him before he managed to ingest the cyanide capsule.

Grayson picked up the phone. He simply couldn’t take chances.

“Yes?”

“We need everyone you can spare. The Kyle woman has managed to elude our beta team. She must be eliminated, top priority.”

“It will be done.”

“Whatever happens, she must not resurface or be allowed to make contact with anyone. Do you hear?”

“As I said, it will be done.”

The phone line went dead.

Grayson sat pounding the receiver into his open palm. He detested loose ends. He hadn’t thought about the fact that if Kyle didn’t show up to brief the press soon, questions would be asked about where she was and what had happened to her. The media’s curiosity would be aroused, and that was never a good thing. No, they needed to be proactive.

He pressed the intercom button. “Get me Hawthorne.”

“Yes, sir.”

Several seconds later, Grayson’s inside line rang. “Robert, is that you?”

“Yes.”

“Is our boy ready to get to work?”

“He’s briefing the leaders and the Cabinet even as we speak.”

“Good. I need you to have him do one other thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Have him make a statement that Katherine Kyle killed herself shortly after she learned about the president’s fate.”

“What?”

Grayson thought quickly. “Distraught over the recent loss of her lover and the sudden death of the president, Ms. Kyle was overwhelmed. She left a note indicating that everything she cared about had been lost and she had nothing to live for anymore.”

“Are you serious?”

“Completely,” Grayson answered in an ominous voice.

“Is she really dead?”

“It’s not your concern.”

“I need to know how to play it.”

“Just the way I’m telling you to.” Grayson could hear the edge of panic in Hawthorne’s voice. He supposed so many dead bodies turning up in proximity to one another might make a man like Hawthorne Lynn Ames

nervous. He consciously changed his tone to be more soothing.

“Everything is under control, Robert. If you follow the plan, you’ll have more power than you know what to do with.”

“You want me to have Wheeler do the Kyle thing as part of his speech?”

Grayson thought for a minute. “No, that gives it too much prominence. Have him put out a statement announcing her death, adding that he is deeply and profoundly sorry and that her suicide is a real loss to him personally and to the country as a whole.”

“Do you want the statement to go out tonight?”

“Yes.” Grayson pursed his lips. “Let’s give her a state funeral, respecting her wishes to be cremated. We want this to be very public.”

“What about her friends and family?”

“She has no family, remember? As for her friends, we’ll tell them when she didn’t show up at the National Press Club, we sent someone out to find her. She was discovered in her car with an empty bottle of sleeping pills she kept stashed in her purse. Apparently, she overdosed after getting the news about the president. She’d just gotten in her car after attending a diplomatic reception at the Russian Embassy.” Grayson figured he’d better cover his bases, not knowing who’d seen Kyle at the event.

“Okay.” Hawthorne drew out the word.

Grayson heard the implied disbelief and secretly agreed that it would be a stretch to convince the media and Kyle’s friends that the woman just happened to have a bottle of sleeping pills handy and that she’d conveniently left a note and wanted to be cremated. He also knew that his options were limited. He didn’t have the time or the manpower to stage anything elaborate. He just hoped that the explanation would seem plausible enough and that everyone would be too wrapped up in the president’s death and its aftermath to pay close attention to the suicide of a relatively minor member of the president’s circle.

Mimi Hyland sat ramrod straight in a seat in the front row. Voices flowed over and around her, but she paid them no heed. People walked by, touched her hand or her shoulder, but she didn’t register their faces.

Her Charlie was gone, and that was all she could think about.

“Charles Hyland stood for all that is great and right about this country. We will not let his legacy die. As your president, I will carry on in the same tradition of strength, honesty, and integrity that President Hyland exemplified so well. Even though he may be gone, his passion, his vision, and his leadership will live on.”

Alton Wheeler left the podium, walked down the steps, and stopped in front of the president’s widow. “I’m so very sorry, Mrs. Hyland.

The Value of Valor

Charlie was a great man. If there’s anything I can do for you in your time of grief, you let me know.”

“I appreciate that, Alton.” She could not call him ‘Mr. President.’ Her husband had held nothing but disdain for this man, and she knew the feeling had been mutual.

“I understand that your husband wanted to be cremated and that he wanted no viewing.”

“Yes, Charlie never was one to stand on ceremony.” She thought about their conversations on the subject, in which he’d always said the same thing.

“Sweetheart, I don’t want some long, protracted period of mourning.

Cremate me, have a quick funeral, and remember to live for the both ofus. It isn’t about my death, it’s about our lives.”

Mimi wiped away a tear. When he’d won the election, they’d revisited the topic, knowing that assassination was always a possibility.

He’d insisted that it would be critical for the country to get back to business and for the new president to move ahead with all due speed.

She would honor his wishes, no matter how painful. It didn’t matter whether the funeral was the next day or the next year. She would never stop mourning him.

She realized Alton Wheeler was still standing in front of her, waiting for her to say something. She looked up at him. “The nation needs your leadership. My husband wouldn’t want there to be a lengthy period of uncertainty. The funeral should take place as soon as possible.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Vendetti.” He was so tired of answering the telephone. It had been an endless night of questions, speculation, and more questions. He never thought he’d feel this way, but he wished that Kate would finally show up. He couldn’t imagine where in the world she was. He’d tried her home number several times, and he had someone posted outside her office door to alert him the second she arrived.

“Mr. Vendetti, this is your new boss.”

Vendetti straightened up immediately, recognizing the Southern drawl on the other end of the line as belonging to the newly sworn-in president. “Yes, sir.”

“I’d like to see you in my office. Now.”

“I’ll be right there, sir.” He jumped out of his chair and hustled down the hall.

“I need you to put out this statement.” Wheeler slid a piece of paper across the desk.

Vendetti read it, his eyes going big and round. He tried to speak, but nothing came out.

Lynn Ames

“You’re my new press secretary now. Think you can handle it?”

“Y-yes, sir. I can’t…I can’t believe she killed herself.”

“Women are always so emotional, Mike. You know how it is.”

Vendetti hated having his name shortened, but he wasn’t about to mention it. Katherine Kyle had committed suicide, and he was the new press secretary to the president. “When would you like this released?”

“Right now, of course.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll take care of it right away.”

Terri removed a casserole from the oven.

“Mmm, that smells great,” Alexa said, sniffing the air appreciatively on her way through the kitchen doorway from outside.

“Ah, you’re right on time. Supper’s almost ready. If you don’t mind, I thought we’d eat in the living room. I’ve been glued to the television since I heard the president died.”

“The president died today?”

“Hmm? Yes, tragic, really. He collapsed while giving a speech and died at the hospital.”

“That’s awful.”

Terri continued moving about the kitchen, taking plates from the cupboard and drinks from the refrigerator. “Help yourself, Alexa.”

“You did all the work, you should be served first.” Alexa stepped aside and waited for Terri to finish what she was doing.

“Very well, if you insist. I’m starving,” Terri confided. She spooned out some casserole and a portion of salad onto her plate, grabbed a glass of iced tea, and headed into the living room, where she settled down in one of the two recliners.

The solemn-faced CNN anchorman was saying, “An additional, sad footnote to this developing story out of Washington, D.C. Katherine Kyle, press secretary to the president and his former campaign spokesperson, has died, the apparent victim of a suicide. According to a statement from newly sworn-in President Alton Wheeler, Kyle was found in her car in an underground parking garage near a reception she had been attending at the Russian Embassy on behalf of President Hyland.

Informed sources indicate that Ms. Kyle was told of the president’s death before she left the embassy and that she ran out shortly thereafter.” A picture of Kate filled the screen with the years of her birth and death.

Alexa finished putting her plate of food together and walked the short distance to the living room. She was mid-stride as the picture of Kate appeared. The plate she’d been carrying slipped through her suddenly boneless fingers and fell to the carpeted floor with a thud. It was exactly as it had been in a hotel room in Albany, New York, nearly two years earlier—that face, the one she’d seen in her dreams every night since The Value of Valor

she’d been a sophomore in college, staring back at her, larger than life, from a television screen.

A cry of horror slipped from her throat as she heard the words,

“Katherine Kyle, press secretary to President Hyland, dead of an apparent suicide on this already tragic evening.” She slumped to the ground, landing hard on her knees, her face buried in her hands.

Terri heard the crash from behind and sprang up to see what had happened. “Alexa! Alexa, honey. What is it? Are you all right?”

“I know,” she whispered. “I know, and it’s too late.” Her body shook with sobs, keening wails bursting forth from her as she felt her heart shatter in a million pieces.

“Hey, hey,” Terri crooned, kneeling on the floor next to Alexa and taking her in her arms. “What are you saying?”

The face that looked up at her was filled with indescribable agony. “I-I know who I am, and it’s too late.”

“Come here, child.” Terri stood and pulled Alexa up with her. She helped her to the sofa, where she sat down beside her and took her hands.

“I don’t understand what you’re telling me.”

She pointed weakly to the television screen. “I know, and it’s too late.” The words were like a mantra to her—something tethering her to this Earth as she felt her soul shrivel and die.

Terri followed Alexa’s finger and watched in shock as an image of Alexa played across the screen. She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand, her heart twisting in her chest. “Oh, no.” Her voice sounded strangled. How could she have made such an unforgivable mistake? She had assumed that the other woman in the car had been Jamison Parker. It hadn’t occurred to her that it could be Alexa.

The anchorman said, “Kyle has been in mourning since the untimely death of her lesbian lover Jamison Parker in a car accident January 21st in Arizona. Parker apparently lost control of her car and died when it plunged over a cliff near Chinle. Parker was on assignment for Time magazine when the accident occurred. Deputy Press Secretary Michael Vendetti, who worked with Ms. Kyle, had this to say...”

“…I don’t think she ever really got over that. The combination of Ms.

Parker’s loss and the death of the president must have been too much for her. I know I will personally miss her, as I’m sure many of you in the media will, as well.”

The anchorman continued, “President Wheeler has announced that Ms. Kyle, who has no living family, will have a state funeral later in the week.”

Jay slid off the couch to the floor, where she curled up in a ball, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. “I know, and it’s too late.” Her Lynn Ames

body rocked back in forth in rhythm to the words. Nothing, she was sure, would ever matter again.

Terri didn’t know what to do or say—how to make it right, so she merely did what her motherly instincts required—she offered comfort and solace, wrapping herself around the distraught woman.

Kate landed in Phoenix at 5:23 a.m. She still hadn’t decided on a plan of action. She had no idea who were her friends and who were her enemies. When she arrived in the terminal, she hustled into the ladies room, where she locked herself in a stall. She turned on the cell phone and dialed a number from memory.

When the receiver was picked up on the other end, she said, “Peter?

Oh, thank God.”

“This isn’t Peter.”

It took Kate a moment to process before she realized to whom the nasally sounding voice on the other end of the line belonged. “Barbara?”

“K-Kate?”

“Yes. Listen, I’m in a lot of trouble. I need help. You sound as though you’ve been crying. Have you?”

In a stunned voice, Barbara said, “Kate, CNN is reporting that you’re dead—that you committed suicide last night after learning of the president’s death.”

Kate heard a thundering in her ears. She sat down heavily. Theywiped me off the map. After a moment, she said, “I’m so sorry, Barbara.

No, I’m quite alive for the moment, though I won’t be for long unless I can disappear.”

“Disappear? What’s going on?” Barbara knew she shouldn’t ask—

knew that she should warn Kate in case anyone had tapped Peter’s line, but she couldn’t help herself.

“I can’t explain it right now. Suffice it to say I don’t know who to trust anymore and I need to find someplace safe to hide.”

“Where are you?”

Kate considered for a moment. She wanted to tell her good friend the whole story. Just hearing a friendly voice made her want to weep. But she also didn’t want to place Barbara in any jeopardy. “I think the less you know, the better. Where’s Peter?”

“Out trying to find you.”

“Any idea where he’s looking?”

“No. He asked me to come down and look after Fred for a while.”

Despite the dire nature of the situation, Kate smiled. She always knew she could count on her friends, especially Peter, when it came to Fred.

“I’m glad you’re there.”

“Do you have any money?” Barbara asked.

The Value of Valor

“Only about one hundred thirty cash and my credit cards. I don’t want to use the cards because they’re traceable.”

“Who is chasing you? And why are they lying about your death?”

“They have to explain my absence somehow, friend.” She could almost hear Barbara processing the information on the other end.

“How is Peter going to find you?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“He said he would call me with an update.”

“Okay.” Kate thought for a minute. She had joked with Peter before about wanting to move to Arizona, but he had said it was too hot. She had responded that it was hot, but it was a “dry” heat. He had replied that it was—but so was sticking your head in an oven. She knew he would remember. “When he does, tell him you’re thinking about taking a vacation someplace hot and dry.”

“Hot and dry?”

“Right.”

“Got it. Kate?”

“Hmm?”

“When will I hear from you again?”

“I wish I knew.”

“Be careful out there, honey.”

“I’m trying. Give…give Fred a scratch for me, okay?”

“You bet. A big hug.”

Kate hung up, wishing with all her heart that she could just go home.

Instead she rested her forehead against the cool surface of the stall door, trying to figure out what to do next.

Barbara had just hung up the phone when it rang again. “Hello?”

“It’s Peter.”

“Hey.”

“I saw the news.” His voice was grim.

“Don’t believe everything you see.”

“Of course not.”

“You had a call.” Barbara thought about telling Peter that she had thrown caution to the wind in her non-cryptic conversation with Kate, but she wasn’t in the mood for the tongue-lashing that would no doubt elicit.

“When?”

“Just now. It was very brief.”

“Schedule must be a bit tight, eh?”

“Sounded that way. Speaking of schedules, have I told you that I was thinking about taking a vacation somewhere hot and dry?”

After several seconds of silence on the line, Peter said, “Really?”

“Yep.”

Lynn Ames

“That’s an interesting choice.”

“You know, when you’re really low on cash, what could be nicer?”

“You have a point.”

In an effort to ensure that Peter understood what she was telling him, Barbara added, “I’m thinking it will be a very short break, though.”

After a second, Peter asked, “When’s Kate’s funeral?”

“I think they’ve scheduled it for the day after tomorrow. Will you be here?”

“Miss my best friend’s funeral? Never. I’ll be there.”

“Anything I can do for you in your mourning?”

“Take care of the boy.”

“Done. Any messages for anyone?”

“Just let folks know that I’ll be out of town until the funeral.”

“Okay.”

His eyelids fluttered open, and he blinked several times trying to clear his vision. The room was dark and eerily quiet. Where was he? What had happened? The last thing he remembered was being in the middle of his remarks at the National Press Club, then the whole world had gone black.

President Hyland tried to sit up. He couldn’t move. He tried to turn his head; nothing happened. He tried to speak but couldn’t. It was only then that he realized he was hooked up to a series of machines that were beeping and whirring.

“How is the patient doing?”

“Stable and incapacitated, as you requested.”

The president tried to focus on the conversation taking place nearby.

“Good. Everything is going according to plan. You’ll keep him alive and well-nourished for now. We don’t know if there are things he has set in motion that will counteract our plans. We can’t kill him until we are sure. Is he conscious?”

“Not yet.”

The president closed his eyes, not wanting to give himself away. The voice asking the questions sounded vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn’t place it.

“How much longer before he wakes?”

“It could be any time now.”

“All right. Let’s go through this again. He will be able to comprehend speech, to hear, to see, to think, but unable to move. Correct?”

“Exactly.”

“And if we need information from him?”

“We can reverse the effects of the pancuronium at any time.”

“Good.”

The Value of Valor

The voices became more distant. Pancuronium? The president was no doctor, but he knew that pancuronium was a poison sometimes used in lethal injections. Why did someone want him out of the way? He fought sleep, trying to stay focused.

The China thing. Keith. Kate. Oh, God.

The command center was a condo in Georgetown. There were phones, maps, half-empty coffee cups, plates of food, and computers everywhere. A large diagram of the city was tacked to a wall, a map of all the transportation hubs covered a second wall, and an easel with a large pad of paper and magic markers was set up off to the side. Voices were raised in conversation, printers cranked out paper, and the Viper stood in the center, barking out orders.

“All right. I want to know where we stand.”

The Secret Service agent who had lost Kate at the reception rose from his chair. He was too ashamed to look the Viper in the eye, so he instead focused on the reports in his hands. “We know she made at least eight plane reservations leaving out of the three major airports and a train reservation. She also reserved a spot on the shuttle going to BWI.”

The Viper waved his hand dismissively. “Do we really think a woman who is resourceful enough to give us the slip and smart enough to make multiple reservations is stupid enough to leave us a simple trail to follow?”

“No, sir,” the agent answered. “So we’ve discounted BWI.”

“Discount nothing. I’m simply telling you she didn’t take the shuttle to get there.”

“Right.”

“Which leaves us where?”

“We found the cab she used to get away. The driver says he took her to the Washington Hilton to catch the shuttle. After that, her trail is cold.”

“Cold? Cold? I don’t want to hear cold!”

The agents in the room shrank back slightly, unnerved by the Viper’s intensity.

“Here’s what we know,” he started pacing. “She most likely left D.C., and she didn’t do it on foot. So either she took another cab or found another means of transportation. Her car is gone, so that’s one possibility, although we’ve had a silent APB out on it ever since and haven’t found it.”

“Sir?” One of the agents who’d been listening with half an ear while carrying on a phone conversation broke in. “I think we’ve got something.”

“What is it?”

Lynn Ames

“A security camera at National Airport shows her checking in at the USAir ticket counter last night.”

“Good work. How many reservations did Kyle have out of National and how many were for USAir?”

“One—it was headed to Phoenix—a red-eye that arrived this morning at 5:23.”

“Bingo. Let’s go get her.” The Viper’s smile was altogether sinister.

The Value of Valor

CHAPTER TWELVE

eter sat in seat 12D on the 10:05 a.m. flight bound for Phoenix.

P He selected the aisle seat because he wanted to be able to watch the other passengers embark. He paid the gate attendant to allow him to board the aircraft first, so he could see every individual’s face.

By his calculation, Kate had a seven-hour head start on him based on the time Barbara had indicated she’d called and the fact that it was a four-hour flight. He hoped she would wait for him. He touched the pouch hidden underneath his shirt. He’d had just enough time before the flight to stop at Gustav’s for a few supplies—a false passport, driver’s license, and bogus credit cards for Kate. He’d also arranged for Gustav to put a trace on Kate’s cards so that if anyone tried to access information about her, he’d know. Peter smiled to himself; he’d always believed saving the Russian’s backside would come in handy.

He examined every person who boarded while pretending to read the New York Times. Halfway through the boarding process, he spotted two men and a woman who stuck out like a sore thumb. He’d been hoping they’d have more lead time to formulate a plan, but it was plain that any advantage Kate had gained in making her getaway had been nearly wiped out.

Mentally, he recalculated his strategy. He knew Kate, and they didn’t—that would work to his benefit. He tried to put himself inside her head. What would she do? Barbara said in so many words she didn’t have much cash and she didn’t plan to stay in Phoenix long. Kate was familiar with Sedona, would she go there? He didn’t think so—there weren’t enough places to hide. Because her face was so recognizable, would she try to disguise herself? Or go someplace where she could blend in?

He tried to remember whether she knew anybody in the area, but he didn’t think she did. He imagined that Kate had considered dyeing her hair or otherwise altering her appearance and decided against it. It wasn’t that she was vain—she wasn’t. It was more that she understood that these were professionals; short of plastic surgery, the advantage to taking the time to alter her appearance would be minimal. Better to focus on staying out of sight altogether.

Lynn Ames

Kate would never endanger anyone else, so Peter was sure she wouldn’t ask anyone to give her shelter. No, she would most likely find someplace away from civilization to hide. He pulled out one of the maps of the area and began to study. Barbara most likely told Kate he was out looking for her; so she would probably try to wait for him as long as she thought she could. She would position herself someplace where she could see any danger coming—the top of a mountain. He smiled, remembering Kate’s description of climbing the mountain that looked like a camel. He put his finger on the map—there it was—Camelback Mountain. She would know that he would remember the story. He was glad he was in good shape.

Terri didn’t know how long they’d been on the floor, but the sun was coming up and her joints were stiff. She was worried. Alexa—Jamison—

hadn’t said a word beyond the phrase she kept repeating. Terri had gleaned more from the news reports on CNN than she had from the woman lying broken beside her. She wanted to apologize—wanted to tell Alexa of her grave error, but she didn’t dare for fear that it would make things worse.

She decided to try a new tactic. She stroked Jay’s back, whispering softly in her ear, “Tell me about Katherine, Jamison. I’ve been admiring her for months on television.”

Through the fog of her grief, Jay heard Terri’s gentle words. She tried to formulate an answer. “Kate—she’s my partner, my lover, my everything.” Jay sobbed.

Terri hugged her tighter.

Jay felt an uncontrollable urge to bolt. She pushed herself to her feet, throwing Terri away from her in the process. Blinded by tears, she ran out the front door without any clear idea of where she was going.

She gulped in breaths of the cool dawn air, her pulse pounding like a time bomb in her ears. When she finally came to a halt, she found herself standing in the creek. The coldness of it seeped through the legs of her jeans and soaked her sneakers, but she barely registered the feeling.

“Kate,” she screamed, the name echoing back at her from the canyon walls. “Kate,” she sobbed, as she squatted down, resting her forehead on her knees. “Kate,” she whispered, as her teeth began to chatter uncontrollably.

Jay stumbled out of the water and leaned on a nearby rock. Its rough texture scraped against the skin on her forearms, reminding her that she was alive. Inside, she felt quite dead. Or did she? She wasn’t sure anymore. One second she hadn’t known who she was or where she belonged. In the next instant, she knew it all and lost it all.

The Value of Valor

“Oh, God.” She turned to the side and vomited bile, as there was nothing in her stomach to lose. How am I supposed to go on without you,Kate? Please, please tell me this is all a bad nightmare and I’m going towake up in the morning beside you, feeling the strength and calm Ialways get from being near you. She closed her eyes against the emptiness that was creeping like a cold fog into her very being.

Eventually, she noticed that she was freezing and wet. It occurred to her that Terri must be worried sick about her. She took a deep breath, trying to muster the energy to face a woman who had saved her life and offered her shelter. She deserved better than what Jay had done. She felt ashamed of herself.

When Jay got back to the house, Terri was sitting at the kitchen table with her hands folded in her lap.

“Hi.”

“Hello. You’re wet.” It took every ounce of self-restraint Terri had not to run the few steps to Jay and mother her. When Jay had run out, Terri had called Andrea for advice.

“Let her go. She’ll come back. She’s got a tremendous amount ofinformation and emotion to process. She needs the space in which to dothat.”

“How long should I give her?”

“At least an hour or two.”

“Should I tell her I mistook the dead woman for her?”

“I think you need to be truthful with her, yes. But pick youropportunity carefully. You need to be prepared for the reality that shemay get very angry with you.”

“I know; I wouldn’t blame her.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, Terri. I jumped to the same conclusionmyself. It was a terrible, tragic mistake—but that’s all it was. You wouldnever have intentionally kept Jamison from her life or her lover.

Somewhere inside, she’ll know that.”

“ I hope you’re right. Thanks again, friend.”

“You’re always welcome, Terri. I wish you’d come visit.”

“Soon.”

“I-I’m sorry I ran out like that.”

“Don’t be, my child. Rediscovering your life—that would be a lot to think about under normal conditions. Add to that everything else you have to deal with, and it becomes overwhelming. I understand.”

“You deserve better than that.”

“All that matters to me is you, Jamison. I can’t imagine your pain, yet I wish I could take it from you. The heart is strong and yet fragile. A broken heart takes much time to mend.”

Lynn Ames

Jay, who had thought she had none left to give, felt the tears fall again. “I want to tell you about her—about us.”

“And I want to hear. But not until you’ve taken a hot shower and gotten out of those wet clothes.”

Jay let the hot spray wash over her body. She leaned her head against the wall. Could she talk about Kate? She wasn’t sure. Maybe talking about her would make it hurt less. She knew that wasn’t true—nothing would take away the pain. But Terri deserved to know and so did Trystan.

Jay swallowed a lump in her throat. Trystan. Over the course of her time on the reservation, she’d become very attached to her. It had hurt her when Trystan had rebuffed her the other day. She would have to see her before she went home.

Home. Was there any home without Kate? Fred would need her. She had a job to go back to and friends who had mourned her. Kate, who had mourned her and died for her. Jay choked out a wrenching sob and pounded her fist against the wall. How could she have done that?

Jay thought about how she felt at this very moment. She knew exactly how Kate must have felt. But to end her life? That wasn’t like Kate at all.

Jay would go back and try to understand—try to make sense of what had happened to her lover in the last two months.

She shut off the water, dried herself, dressed, and prepared to give something back to the women who had given her everything over the course of her stay with them and asked for nothing in return.

She found Terri in the living room, CNN still playing in the background.

“Do you feel better?”

“A little.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“No, thanks. I want to talk to you about Kate.” Jay stumbled over the name.

Terri took a deep breath, seemingly bracing herself for what was to come. “Before you do, I have a confession to make.”

“What is it?” Alexa noticed Terri’s agitation and was further shocked to see tears on her lashes. She’d never seen Terri cry.

“I don’t know if you can ever forgive me.”

“Forgive you? For what?” Alexa asked, confused.

“I-I made an assumption that turned out to be very wrong.”

“We all make mistakes.”

“You don’t understand,” Terri said, looking up at Jay with wounded eyes. “When I first heard about the accident, the death of the press secretary’s lover was all people talked about. But I was busy with your The Value of Valor

care; I didn’t have time to watch my usual television. So I listened to the radio instead. I never saw what Jamison Parker looked like.”

“What are you saying?” Alexa asked carefully, her stomach turning over.

“I don’t know if you remember, but there was a second woman in the car; she was dead at the scene. I was sure that woman was Jamison Parker. I knew she was Katherine Kyle’s lover, but I still didn’t know who you were. A psychologist friend of mine insisted that you needed to regain your memory on your own. If I hadn’t made the assumption about who you weren’t, I could have made the connection for you, and you might have…”

Although the words were jumbled, Jay understood their import.

“Don’t,” Jay said, putting her hands over her ears. “Don’t say it.” Her blood burned red-hot. She wanted to lash out, wanted to scream and rave.

She strode angrily out of the room, her whole body shaking with rage.

Jay returned several minutes later, feeling slightly more composed.

She found Terri standing in the middle of the room. There was agony and self-recrimination written in every line of her face. She felt the anger seep out of her. “It’s okay, Terri.” Jay approached her and enveloped her in a hug. “You didn’t know. You did your best to shelter me and keep me safe. I understand.”

“How can you?”

“I know you’ve done everything in your power to help me. You would never do anything intentionally to hurt me.” Jay held Terri tightly as the two women cried for opportunities lost and lives shattered.

“I want to tell you about Kate,” Jay said finally.

“Okay, are you sure?”

Jay nodded and began to pace. “I need to talk about her.” Jay’s eyes were pleading. “We met in college, but we didn’t get involved until May 1987. The governor of New York—the president now—presided over our commitment ceremony last December.”

“She was very beautiful,” Terri said.

“Yes. Gorgeous. But it wasn’t her looks that attracted me. Kate’s a hero, in every sense of the word.” Jay faltered but pressed on. “She’s honest, honorable, noble, strong, and she’s got a heart of gold.”

“She sounds very special.” Terri was careful to use the present tense this time since Jay had done so.

“Amazing. I’ve never known anyone like her.” Jay tried but couldn’t hold it together. “Poor Kate. All this time she’s been mourning me, and now that I can find my way home to her, it’s too late. If only I had figured it out sooner.” Jay stopped short. She didn’t want her words to make Terri feel any worse than she already did.

Lynn Ames

Terri sat watching the woman she had come to think of as a daughter and her heart broke. “I’m so, so sorry, Jamison.”

“Thanks,” Jay said hollowly. “My friends call me Jay, by the way.

You and Trystan have been so wonderful to me.” She had another pang as she thought of the last time she had seen her friend.

Terri watched Jay’s expressive face change when she mentioned Trystan. “You’re worried about my daughter?”

Jay nodded sadly. “Yes. I’m afraid I did something to upset her.

Something’s changed between us, and I don’t know what.”

Terri chewed her lower lip. “I think I do.”

Jay watched her walk to her bedroom with curious eyes.

Terri returned and stood awkwardly in front of Jay. She wasn’t sure what she could say to make this any easier, and she wished with all her heart that she could be doing this under happier circumstances. She held out her closed fist, turned her hand palm up, and opened her fingers to reveal the ring.

Jay looked up at her questioningly.

“I removed this from your finger the day you arrived. I was cleaning cuts and abrasions from your hands. I was afraid swelling would cause the ring to cut off your circulation. I’ve kept it for you in my jewelry box ever since.”

Jay slipped the ring on her finger. “Why didn’t you give it back to me before this, and what does it have to do with Trystan?”

“I’m sorry to have kept it from you. That psychologist friend I told you about indicated that the ring would most likely not restore your memory but might serve to upset you further—since you’d know you were married but you wouldn’t have any recollection to whom.”

“I see.” Silently, Jay wondered if the ring would have jarred her memory and if that had brought her home to Kate sooner, perhaps Kate would sti—no, she had to stop thinking that way. “What does that have to do with Trystan?”

Terri sighed. “I could see how much Trystan cared for you, and I wanted to make sure she didn’t falsely believe you were available to her in a romantic way.”

Comprehension started to dawn on Jay. “So you showed her the ring.”

“Yes. The other morning.”

“That’s why she ran out.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“That’s why she pushed me away.”

Terri nodded. “My daughter is a very sensitive girl, very caring. She would never take what doesn’t belong to her, no matter how much it hurt her.”

The Value of Valor

“You think Trystan’s in love with me?” Jay asked incredulously.

“I believe that if she isn’t already, she could be.”

“Oh, God. What a mess.” Jay buried her head in her hands.

“I’m afraid so.” Terri considered for a moment. “Jamison—Jay, what were you doing out here? Do you know?”

Jay nodded and accepted the tissue Terri offered her. “As you probably heard on the news, I’m a reporter for Time magazine. I did a story a while ago on Native American healing traditions. I was coming back out here because the culture fascinated me, and I wanted to do a larger story on the Navajo and the ways they carry on their traditions within the context of today’s society.”

“I see.” Terri debated how to proceed. “What do you remember of how you ended up in our care?”

Jay squinted her eyes in thought. “I was driving along when I noticed a car behind me. It stuck out because there didn’t seem to be any traffic on the road. It was a standard dark blue sedan.” She looked at Terri.

“You know, the kind undercover cops drive.”

Terri nodded.

“I didn’t think much of it until I stopped and picked up a woman whose boyfriend had dumped her out on the side of the road. I saw the whole thing. Poor woman was crying and shaking.” Jay looked up at Terri. “That was the other woman. I told her I would give her a ride to Chinle. That’s when I became suspicious of the other car.”

“Suspicious? Why?”

“Because when I pulled over, the sedan pulled over, too. Except the driver stayed back about a hundred feet or so. It was odd—like he was waiting for me. So when the woman got in, I sped up to see what the sedan would do. I thought maybe it was my imagination running away with me. But that car stayed with me. He was following me.”

“Yes, he was.”

“I-I don’t remember anything after that until I woke up in the clinic.”

Jay’s voice was shaking.

“Who was the other woman in the car with you? Did you get her name?”

“Oh,” Jay’s hand flew to her mouth. “No, I never did. She’s—she’s dead because of me.” Her voice trailed off as she tried to comprehend the enormity of what had happened.

“It’s okay, Jay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Jay glanced back at the TV screen, where CNN was airing a package outlining Kate’s career. A stranger she didn’t even know had died because of her and so had Kate. Jay shook her head, a new wave of tears coursing down her cheeks. “No, it’s never going to be okay; it can’t be anymore.”

Lynn Ames

Kate didn’t want to risk going into a store and being recognized. If CNN was reporting her death, her face would be plastered all over the television for the rest of the day. Barbara had said Peter was looking for her and would call in. Assuming he’d done so, it was likely he was on his way to Phoenix already.

She gauged the passengers as they waited for their luggage at baggage claim. Finally, she found what she was looking for. She watched as a tall, gangly teenager standing off by himself pulled a set of keys out of his pocket. He was clearly waiting for his luggage.

Casually, she approached him, watching as he openly appraised her.

“Hi,” she said, giving him her most seductive smile.

“Um, hi,” he answered awkwardly, standing up a little straighter.

“Waiting for your luggage?”

“Yeah.”

“Vacation?”

“School break.”

“Ah. Hey, I wonder if you could help me out. I’m in a bit of a bind here.”

“Sure.”

Kate was certain the boy would walk to Egypt for her if she asked.

“My luggage got lost and my car keys were inside. I wonder, if you’ve got a car, if you could drop me in Scottsdale.”

“Absolutely. My parents left my car in the short-term lot this morning.”

Kate hated lying and hated worse playing with the boy’s hormones, but she really had no choice. She waited with him for his luggage to arrive and followed him to the parking lot.

She folded herself into his beat-up Chevy Camaro and gritted her teeth as he drove like a maniac on 44th Street.

“Do you live here?” he asked.

“Part of the time,” Kate lied. She had told him her car keys were in her lost luggage; if she told the truth now, he would know she’d been lying before. To deflect any further questions about herself, she changed the subject. “Where do you go to school?”

“Back East. I’m sure you wouldn’t have heard of it. It’s a small, liberal arts college in Vermont.”

Kate couldn’t believe it. This could only happen to her. “Let’s see, there aren’t that many small liberal arts colleges in Vermont…Bennington, St. Michael’s…But you look smarter than that.”

She pretended to size him up, which made him blush. “Middlebury.”

The boy looked over at her, astonished. “You know it?”

The Value of Valor

“Yeah, a little bit.” She was nervous. She was one of the college’s more recognizable alumni; was it possible he didn’t know who she was?

“What’s your major?”

“Biology with a minor in geology.”

Kate breathed a sigh of relief. The fact that he was a science nerd worked in her favor. “What year are you in?”

“I’m a freshman.”

“What do you want to do when you get out?”

“I’m not really sure yet. I just think the sciences are cool.”

“You can pull over here.” Kate pointed to a spot by the curb at the intersection of McDonald Drive and Invergordon, around the corner from her destination. She didn’t want the boy to take her all the way to the mountain. The less he could figure out, the better.

“Are you sure?”

“Yep. Thanks.”

“Okay.”

As she was getting out, she asked offhandedly, “Can I trouble you for a couple more things?”

“Sure.”

“I don’t have any shorts in my house and I’m going to roast before I can get to a store. You’re about my size; got a pair of shorts in your bag you could part with? I’ll pay you for them.”

Kate watched as the boy’s mind derailed at the thought of her in his shorts. Thank God for boys and their hormones.

“You bet.” He jumped out of the car and ran around to the trunk.

“How about these?” He held up a pair of Middlebury gym shorts.

She smiled at him. “Perfect.”

“What was the other thing?”

“A pad of paper and a pen.”

“You got it.”

“How many agents do we have on the ground out there?” Wayne Grayson asked the Viper as they ate lunch in his private dining room. He especially liked that this room afforded him a view of the White House.

“Three are just about to touch down.”

“Just three?”

“They’re the best we have.”

“Okay. I want to make sure we’ve got Kyle’s funeral covered, too. It might be interesting to see who turns up to pay respects.”

“Are you expecting anyone in particular?”

“No, but it wouldn’t be the first time someone has attended her own funeral.”

Lynn Ames

“You think she might double back? I think that’s highly unlikely.

She’s too recognizable in this town.”

“Perhaps, but I still want to be prepared, just in case. As it is, she’s been on the loose too long. We don’t know that she hasn’t already made contact with someone.”

“Mmm. But we don’t know that she has, either.” The Viper realized his mistake as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He stiffened.

“I don’t like not knowing.” Grayson’s eyes flashed.

“Yes, sir. I’ll make sure we have a full complement of agents at the funeral the day after tomorrow.”

The Viper took his leave via the inside elevator from Grayson’s penthouse offices to an underground parking garage.

Jay wiped her eyes. After her discussion with Terri, she’d gone into her room to lie down for a while. She had tried to sleep, but visions of Kate had kept her awake. She didn’t know if she’d ever be able to sleep again. For now, she would take things one day, one hour, one minute at a time. CNN had reported that the funeral for Kate was to take place the day after tomorrow. She would be there. But first there was something she needed to do.

She blew her nose one last time, walked out of her room, and faced Terri, who was making tea in the kitchen. “I’m going to find Trystan.”

“Jay, give Trystan a little time. She needs to adjust. She’ll come back.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t have time to wait. I won’t leave here without seeing her and setting things right between us.”

“You’re planning on leaving?”

“Yes. Kate’s funeral is the day after tomorrow. I have to be there for it.”

“Jay,” Terri put a hand on her arm. “Do you know who tried to kill you?”

“What? N-no, I have no idea.”

“Then what makes you think it would be safe for you to go home?”

“I don’t know, Terri. All I know is that I can’t hide for the rest of my life, and frankly, I don’t really care at this point if they find me again. Let them.”

“Jay! You don’t mean that.”

“Actually, I do.”

“Well, if you don’t care, I do.” Terri’s nostrils flared in anger. “And so does Trystan.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“I am. You can’t take your safety so cavalierly.”

The Value of Valor

Jay thought for a moment. Terri had a point. By showing up at the funeral, she would be making herself an easy target. She could stay in the shadows and watch from a distance. Or better yet, she could call Peter; he’d know what she should do.

“May I use your phone?”

“Of course.” Terri stepped aside, her rigid posture a clear indicator that she was still upset. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

When she was alone, Jay dialed Peter’s number in Albany. The answering machine picked up on the fourth ring. She debated whether or not to leave a message, finally deciding that hearing her voice on the answering machine would be too jarring for him. He had enough to deal with. She’d just have to stay in the shadows and look for him at the funeral. She hung up and walked into the living room.

“I couldn’t reach my friend. It’ll be fine, Terri, I promise. Peter will take care of me as soon as I can find him.”

“Peter?” Terri wondered—could it be? She remembered the good-looking stranger who had questioned her about Jay. “What’s his last name? Can you describe him for me?”

Confused, Jay complied.

Terri put her head in her hands.

“What’s the matter?”

“He was here.”

“Who was? Peter?”

“Yes.” Terri nodded. “He came several days after the accident. We didn’t know whom to trust. That’s why Trystan and I moved you to this house from the clinic.”

“You were hiding me from view.”

“Exactly. In case he was a bad man sent to finish the job.”

“Oh.” Jay tried not to think yet again about the fact that she could have been home weeks earlier. “Thank you for protecting me.”

“I’m so, so sorry, Jay. If I had known that he was your friend…”

Jay wrapped her arms around Terri and squeezed, trying her best not to think about the “what ifs.”

“How could you know? You did your best to keep me safe, and I’ll never forget it. I owe you my life.”

“You owe me nothing, child. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for the mistakes I made.”

“Don’t,” Jay said around the lump in her throat. “You can’t change what is any more than I can. We’ll get through it together.” She gave Terri one last squeeze and let go. “I have to go find Trystan.” She squared her shoulders and headed for the door. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, Jay, although you won’t need it.”

Lynn Ames

Jay walked down the street to the small cottage she knew belonged to Trystan. She had no idea what she would say when she got there, but she knew she cared about Trystan and didn’t want to lose her as a friend.

As she got closer, she could see Trystan sitting on the front step, watching her approach. “Hi,” Jay offered.

“Hey yourself.” Trystan took one look at her friend and knew something had changed.

“Can I sit down?”

“Of course.” Trystan shifted left, giving Jay enough room to sit.

After several moments of awkward silence, Jay took a deep breath and jumped in. “I’ve missed you.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been busy,” Trystan mumbled.

“If you’re not too ‘busy’ right now, I could sure use a friend.”

Trystan turned so she could get a good look at Jay. It was obvious that she’d been crying. “One friend reporting for duty.”

Jay smiled wanly. “I’ve had sort of a tough day.”

“Yeah? Why don’t you tell me about it?” Trystan bumped Jay’s shoulder with her own.

“I know who I am.” Jay’s voice was nearly a whisper.

“That’s great, right?” Trystan’s heart lurched as she looked down to see the diamond ring on Jay’s finger.

Jay sighed. “It’s complicated.”

“Okay. How about if we start simply? What’s your real name? It’s not Alexa, is it?”

“No, it isn’t. My name is Jamison Parker. My friends call me Jay.”

“Hi, Jay. Nice to meet you.” Trystan extended her hand for Jay to shake. She held it for a moment, studying the woman she’d come to know as Alexa. “It suits you.”

“What does?”

“The name—Jay. It’s strong, yet soft. Like you.” Trystan looked down, embarrassed that she had said too much.

“Thanks.”

“What has you so upset? Something’s obviously wrong. Is it the men who tried to kill you?”

“No. I still don’t know who they were or why they wanted me dead.”

Jay fiddled with her ring, trying to find the next words she wanted to say.

“Have you watched the news today?”

“No, I rarely watch the news. Why?”

“The president died.”

“That’s too bad. My mother raves about him, I know.” Trystan shrugged. “Me, I don’t pay too much attention to politics. Amà has given up on talking to me about it. What does the president dying have to do with you?” She watched as a look of unspeakable pain crossed Jay’s face.

The Value of Valor

“I remembered who I am because I saw my…my wife’s face on the television screen. She’s—” Jay cleared her throat. “She was the president’s press secretary.” Tears started falling anew.

Trystan couldn’t help herself. She gathered Jay into her arms and rocked her. “Was?” she asked.

“According to CNN, she…” Jay couldn’t go on.

“Shh, it’s okay, honey. Easy. Shh. I’ve got you.”

After a while, Jay composed herself. “I’m so sorry about that.”

“Don’t be.”

“CNN says that Kate committed suicide.” She took a deep breath.

“They said the combination of the president’s death and mine was too much for her—that she didn’t have anything to live for anymore.”

“Oh, Jay.”

“I remembered too late. If only I could’ve figured it out sooner, Kate would still be alive. It’s my fault.”

“What? It is not your fault. You didn’t know.”

“I should’ve tried harder to figure it out.”

“How could you have?”

“I don’t know.” Jay began sobbing again. “Your mother thought I—

that is, Jamison Parker—was the other woman in the car—the woman who died. She didn’t tell you?”

“No, she didn’t. I guess she thought since it was related to politics, I wouldn’t listen,” Trystan said quietly.

“Trystan, Kate’s gone.” Jay began to shake uncontrollably.

“Shh. I’ve got you.” If Trystan had thought she had any chance of a future with Jay, she knew with certainty at this moment that it had vanished. She leaned her cheek on top of Jay’s head and felt her own tears come.

Jay pulled back first. “Got any tissues?”

Trystan laughed. “I think so.” She went inside, coming back with the box of Kleenex and a garbage can.

“I want you to know how grateful I am for the friendship you’ve given me since I’ve been here. It means the world to me.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Jay. You’re impossible not to love.”

Jay picked a piece of nonexistent lint off her jeans. “I, um, I think you’re a very beautiful woman, Trystan. Under different circumstances, I’m sure—”

“Don’t.” Trystan put two fingers over Jay’s lips. “Please, don’t say another word. I understand where you’re coming from, and I appreciate that you were willing to come here to tell me in person. You’re a very classy lady, Jay.”

Lynn Ames

Since there was nothing left to say, Jay leaned over and kissed Trystan gently on the lips. “I’ll never forget you.” She rose to her feet, looked back once to wave, and walked away.

“I’m the one who will never forget,” Trystan whispered, her fingers reverently touching her lips.

The Value of Valor

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

he sun was warm on her face and sweat soaked her T-shirt, but T Kate kept moving. She knew with certainty that the Commission would be hunting her, and she assumed that eventually they would figure out which flight she had actually taken. The only question in her mind was how long it would take them to be back on her trail.

She pulled out her wallet hoping to find some hidden stash of cash—

no luck. She’d given the boy ten dollars for the shorts, and she’d spent another six on a sandwich at the airport, not knowing when or where she might find her next meal—that left her with one hundred fourteen dollars. Her credit cards were useless since using them would give her whereabouts away. She needed a miracle, or Peter, whichever came first.

She smiled—maybe they were the same thing.

The problem was that every minute she spent waiting for Peter increased her chances of being captured and killed. Her only hope was that he could find her before they did. She smiled grimly. Hope yourmemory is good, my friend.

“Where are you going again?”

“Camelback Mountain. It’s in Scottsdale.”

“What’s so special about it that you’d hike it in triple-digittemperatures?”

“It’s a very neat mountain—I hike it every time I go to Arizona. If youlook at it from almost any angle, it looks just like a camel lying down.”

“That’s nice. I still wouldn’t brave one hundred-degree-plustemperatures for the privilege of sitting atop a camel’s hump.”

It had been a few years since that trip, but Peter was never one to forget a detail. She would just have to put her faith in him now.

The Cholla Trail up Camelback Mountain would take her to the summit. From that vantage point, she hoped she’d be able to see anyone coming or going. She looked at her watch—she’d been hiking for nearly half an hour at a good, strong pace. That would put her at roughly the halfway point to the top. Now we get to the fun part.

Lynn Ames

The remainder of the way would be steep and treacherous, especially in the cheap sneakers she had on. She shifted the small leather duffle to her left hand and used her right to find hand holds in the rocks.

Several times, she slipped and nearly fell to her knees, but in each instance, she was able to catch her balance at the last second. She looked around, checking to see if anyone was following her. So far, she was alone. It worked in her favor that it was a weekday; on the weekends, this trail would be packed.

She wished Jay could be here with her—they’d talked about coming out here together someday. The thought provoked a fresh wave of melancholy. She squeezed her eyes shut as if to ward off the pain. Try as she might, Kate couldn’t seem to go more than a few minutes without thinking about Jay.

Dozens of times in a given day, she would reach for the phone to call Jay or think of something to tell her and plan to share it when they both got home after work. Then she would remember. At night, there were painful reminders everywhere that Jay was gone.

Kate tried to swallow around the lump in her throat. This line of thought wasn’t doing her any good. She needed to focus on the task at hand: survival.

She pressed on, making the summit shortly before noon. She stood for a moment looking out over the valley floor, just taking in the sights of the desert and its own unique beauty. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, allowing herself a moment to savor the peacefulness of the location. Enjoy that while it lasts, Kyle, you’ve got yourself in one hell ofa jam this time.

She walked around to the spot where the Echo Canyon trail reached the summit and checked that area—she could see what looked to be a mother and daughter about halfway down that side of the mountain, but they didn’t strike her as being a threat.

Turning in all directions, she tried to find the best vantage point from which to see anyone approach. She selected a rock to sit on that allowed her to see traffic from both trails before any hikers would be able to spot her. When she was as comfortable as she could be, she reached down, unzipped the leather bag, and removed the pen and paper she had gotten from her college boy buddy.

Dear Peter,

I’m committing this to writing and sending it to you via mail in caseI’m unable to tell you all this in person.

Here is the story of what I’ve learned and what happened to me onceI got the information…

The Value of Valor

Peter’s plane landed at just after noon Phoenix time. He waited for the three operatives to deplane before him, then followed them into the terminal and down to the rental car desks. He got in line behind them and listened as they argued with one another about whether or not Kate would have taken the time to rent a car. They decided to split up and check with all the rental car companies represented at the airport. Good,that will give me more time.

Peter paid cash to rent a mid-sized sedan from Hertz. He accepted the maps offered by the clerk, including one for hiking trails in the area, and took one last look around. All three of the operatives were waiting in lines at rental car counters. Smiling to himself, he headed out into the bright sunshine.

Within half an hour, he was parked at the base of Camelback Mountain’s Cholla Trail. He had selected this trail because according to the map, even though it was a longer hike than the Echo Canyon approach, it was less steep. This would make it easier to run up.

From inside his knapsack, Peter pulled a pair of high-powered binoculars. He focused on the mountain’s peak. He couldn’t make out faces, but he could see that there were hikers at the summit. He replaced the binoculars in the bag, settled it on his back, and began jogging up the trail.

He stopped twice to get his bearings, wipe the sweat off his brow, and take a peek at the summit through the binoculars. From this point on the trail, his view was obstructed. All he could do was keep going. Please,Kate, please be there.

Kate watched over the edge as a man in jeans and a T-shirt jogged up the Cholla Trail side, then disappeared from view. She could not make out any features and didn’t want to take any chances. She couldn’t think of any sane reason why someone dressed like that in the midday Arizona heat would be running up a mountainside.

She staked out the large rock she had noticed earlier just off the trail and squatted behind it. With its shelter, at least she would have the element of surprise in her favor.

The three operatives met near the luggage carousel. “Anything?”

“No.”

“Negative.”

“Okay. Let’s focus on the possibilities. Scenario one: She got off one plane and onto another.”

The two other agents nodded.

Lynn Ames

“Scenario two: She grabbed a cab and is still somewhere in the area.

Anybody got any other ideas?”

The female agent, a tall, broad-shouldered woman with shoulder-length, curly hair, spoke up. “She might have picked this destination because she knows somebody here. She could’ve gotten a ride from someone she knew.”

“True, but I think that option is less likely—it means she would’ve had to make a phone call from somewhere.”

“She landed several hours before we did. She had the time.” Lorraine tried to hide her disdain for Steven. At thirty-two, he was the oldest of the three of them and completely self-involved. Unfortunately, he was also the one who had the Viper’s trust. She thought him several watts short of a light bulb.

“Okay, Lorraine. You follow up on the local angle. Interview cabbies and security agents outside who might have seen her get in a car. Paul, you check the airlines—see if the bitch got on another plane. I’m going to check in with the command center to see if they’ve got anything additional. We’ll meet back here in twenty minutes.” He looked at his watch: 12:54 p.m. They were losing time.

Peter crested the last rise and arrived at the summit. He was alone. He bent over, breathing heavily, and wiped his face on the sleeve of his shirt.

His heart sank. Either Kate had been here and gone or she had never come at all.

He decided to have a look around. He took three steps to his right and looked out over the valley. A voice behind him said, “Looking for someone in particular?” The voice was hoarse with emotion, but he would have known it anywhere. He whipped around just in time to catch Kate, who flew into his arms.

“God, am I glad to see you.” Tears of relief coursed down her face.

Peter was crying, too. “Not as glad as I am to see you, honey.” He squeezed her tightly and rocked them both from side to side. After a few moments, he pulled back and held her at arm’s length. “Are you okay?”

Kate nodded. “Better now, thanks. God, I’m glad you have a mind like a steel trap.”

Peter laughed, “That’s not what you usually say.”

“I take back everything bad I’ve ever said about your anal retentive memory.”

“Gee, thanks. By the way, fancy meeting you in a place like this.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

He shrugged. “Sorry, I’ve just always wanted to say that to somebody.”

The Value of Valor

Kate smiled. “Glad I could accommodate you. Now can we get down to business? I mean, I’m assuming I’m still on the rogue squad’s most-wanted list, right?”

“Afraid so. There were three of them on my flight.”

“Great.” Kate’s face paled.

Peter put his arm around her. “It’s okay, Kate. They won’t get anywhere near you if I have anything to say about it.”

“Okay, tough guy.” She wanted to believe him; she had more faith in Peter than she did in anyone in the world, especially in a situation like this. But she had a feeling they were both in over their heads.

“Who are these people?”

Kate looked around, suddenly feeling exposed and uncomfortable.

“Can we talk about it on the way down?”

“Of course. After you.” He made a sweeping gesture with his arm for her to precede him back down the trail.

“They’re part of a loose syndicate called the Commission.”

“No kidding.”

“You know them?”

“I’ve heard some rumors. Nothing solid, though.”

“Well, here’s something solid for you—they’re the ones who killed the president. They want to open up Asia and the Eastern bloc countries to their goods and use the people there for cheap factory labor.”

“And President Hyland was in their way?”

“Yes.” The word came out on a whoosh of air as she barely side-stepped a boulder in the middle of the trail. “He never would’ve gone along with their approach, so they needed someone in charge who would be easier to manipulate.”

“Wheeler.”

“Exactly.”

“Is he part of the syndicate?”

“I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure Bob Hawthorne of the DNC is.”

“There’s a guy whose name just keeps coming up over and over again.”

“What do you mean?”

“I did some checking. It looks like the vice president met with Hawthorne just before he made the phone call to China. I figured Hawthorne was the one who sent him to make the call.”

“Looks like you figured right.”

“Kate,” Peter watched the back of her head as it bobbed up and down in rhythm to her strides. “There’s more about Hawthorne you ought to know.”

There was something in his voice that made her pause. “Yeah?”

“It looks to me like he’s been in cahoots with Vendetti.”

Lynn Ames

Her head whipped around. “Vendetti?”

“Yeah.”

“You think he’s part of this?”

“I don’t know. I think that he and Hawthorne were up to something—

and it goes back all the way to your time at DOCS.”

“Two years?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“How do you know that?”

“Vendetti’s phone records.” Peter debated whether to tell Kate about the series of frantic phone calls Vendetti had placed to Hawthorne the day after Jay’s murder. He still hadn’t figured out what connection if any that had to Breathwaite and Hexall. He decided to keep the information to himself for the moment.

“Oh.”

“I tried to check Hawthorne’s records, too, but I got shut out. At the time, I wondered what he was hiding.”

“I guess we know now, huh? The Commission would certainly have the power to block records access. Keith said they had plants everywhere, in every conceivable field.” She felt a renewed wave of sadness thinking about Keith. “They killed him.” Her voice came out shaky.

“Who?”

“Keith—the president’s friend. He knew we’d been exposed at the reception, so he created a diversion and let them take him so I could get away. He was a hero, Peter, and I want to make sure everyone knows that.”

“We’ll make sure they do.”

“He ID’ed three members of the Commission at the reception.”

“Who were they?”

“Wayne Grayson, of Grayson Enterprises; Matthew Wood, CEO of Wood Communications; and Andre L’Andreu, of Oxycon Oil.”

“That’s interesting.”

Kate stopped short. They were almost three-quarters of the way down the mountain. She bent over and put her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath. “You doing okay, old man?”

“Old man, my ass. I’m not the one who stopped.”

“I was just trying to make sure I didn’t wear you out.”

“Likely story.”

“Peter, what am I going to do?” She searched out his eyes. The closer they got to the bottom, the more difficulty she was having keeping the fear at bay. “These people don’t play around. They won’t stop until they’ve eliminated me.”

He pulled her to him. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll get you someplace safe and find a way to expose their plan.”

The Value of Valor

She leaned her forehead against his shoulder. “How can we? Who the heck would believe us? Not only that, but we don’t have any hard proof.”

His eyes narrowed. “We’ll just have to get some.”

“We don’t even know who the good guys are. Keith made three Secret Service agents and one fibbie at the party. How are we going to know who to trust?”

“You leave that to me, okay?”

“Okay. So back to the original question—what am I going to do?”

Peter had already given the matter a great deal of thought on the plane ride from D.C. “We need to make you disappear for a little while—make it harder for them to trace you.”

Kate’s laugh was short and tight. “Even I had that much figured out, genius. It’s not like I have unlimited funds like they do. And everyone who pays any attention to the news knows my face. I’d be recognized in a heartbeat.”

“That’s why you’re going somewhere where those things won’t be an issue.”

“I’m not following you.”

“I’m putting you on a plane to the other side of the world.”

“Come again?”

“You’re going to New Zealand.”

Kate shook her head. “True, I’ve always wanted to visit there, but how do you figure that’s going to save me?”

“The Kiwis are a very laid-back bunch; they don’t care about celebrity, and they don’t follow American politics.”

“So my face won’t give me away.”

“Right. Not only that, but they don’t take kindly to pushy, uptight foreigners. Those agents will stick out like a sore thumb over there.

They’re not likely to get much help from the natives.”

“Okay, that makes sense. But I still have to get there.”

“I’ve got that covered.” Peter reached under his T-shirt and unzipped the pouch. “A passport, three credit cards, a driver’s license—all in the name Lisa Jensen—and ten thousand dollars American cash. That ought to hold you for a while. The credit cards each have a twenty thousand-dollar limit. Feel free to max them out—you’ll never get a bill.”

Kate picked her jaw up off the ground. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised that Peter had thought of and could arrange such things, but still…“Is there anything you haven’t covered?”

“I’m sure, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. We’d better keep going.”

“Right.” She turned and started walking again.

“I wish I could come with you, Kate. I don’t like the idea of sending you out there on your own again.”

Lynn Ames

“Any more than I like the idea of being out there on my own.”

“If I don’t show up to your funeral, it’ll raise too many questions.”

“My funer—”

“You’re going to be buried the day after tomorrow—a state funeral.”

“Nice touch.” Her head swam. “How are they getting around the fact that there’s no body?”

“You wanted to be cremated.”

“Gee, I don’t remember saying that.”

“Oh, yes, it was in your suicide note.”

“Huh. Who knew? And who said they got to arrange my funeral?”

“They did…since you have no family…”

“Cute. And very convenient.”

“Isn’t it, though? So I have to be there or it’ll look suspicious.”

“That reminds me, don’t ask me why…thanks for taking such great care of Fred.”

He reached forward and squeezed her shoulder. “My pleasure. I promise you I won’t let him gain too much weight before you get home.”

“Am I ever going to get home?” There was a hitch in her voice.

“You bet.” He schooled his voice to sound upbeat.

“You know, there’ve been moments in the past twenty-four hours when I’ve wondered if it mattered.”

“What are you saying?” His heart constricted. “Of course it does.”

“I know,” she said. “I’m just tired, I guess.”

“I’ll forgive you this time, but I don’t want to hear any more of that garbage, got me?”

“I got you.”

They arrived at the end of the trail.

“My car’s over there.” Peter pointed across the street.

“Okay, so I’m going to New Zealand. How the hell are we going to evade the three stooges?”

“I’m still figuring that out. When last I left Moe, Curly, and Larry, they were checking for you at all the car rental counters.”

“You’ve got a half hour until we get to the airport to come up with the perfect plan.”

“I know. Believe me, I know.”

“This is awfully nice of you; you didn’t have to give me a ride all the way to the airport,” Jay said.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Terri answered.

“I promise I’ll repay you for the plane ticket and the spending money.”

“Jay,” without taking her eyes from the road, Terri reached out to touch her on the hand. “It’s the very least I can do, considering.”

The Value of Valor

“We’re not going through it again,” Jay said resolutely. “You did everything in the name of love and caring. I won’t have you carrying this burden anymore. I’ve forgiven you, Terri. You need to forgive yourself.”

“Perhaps someday I will,” Terri said. “Are you okay?” She was worried. Jay had been silent for most of the long ride, seemingly drawn into herself.

“Sure.” The word didn’t sound very convincing, even to Jay’s ears.

“It would be perfectly natural for you to feel apprehensive about going back.”

Jay nodded and twisted the ring on her finger. “I can’t believe Kate is gone.” She willed herself not to cry again. “I’m not sure I can really go home. Everything in the house in Albany reminds me of Kate—she designed the place. And although we’ve been living in Washington, D.C., since the beginning of the year, that’s not really home. I still have my apartment in New York City, but living there full time wouldn’t be fair to Fred.”

“Who’s Fred?”

“Our dog. Well, he was Kate’s dog before I came into the picture, but I’m in love with the big guy.” She smiled wistfully.

“I’m sure he’ll be very glad to see you.”

“Mmm. I’m sure Peter’s taking great care of him.”

There were several moments of silence.

“Terri?” Jay chewed on her lip.

“Hmm?”

“Do you think the death of a lover can totally change someone?”

Terri spared Jay a glance. “Why do you ask?”

“Because the Kate I know would never, under any circumstances, have committed suicide. I know they said she was distraught over my

‘death’ and what happened to the president, but unless she completely became a different person…”

“It would be out of character for her.”

“Yes, very.”

“I think that when you love someone with all your heart and they suddenly disappear out of your life, it can have a profound effect, yes.

But I don’t know your Kate, and I can’t really answer that question as it pertains specifically to her.”

“It’s just—I don’t know. I can’t envision Kate taking her own life. I just can’t.” Jay fought not to lose her composure.

“Accepting the death of a loved one, especially under these circumstances, is very difficult. You want to understand and yet you know it may not be possible.”

“Yes.”

Lynn Ames

“Over time, when your grief is not as fresh, you’ll learn to come to terms with it—you must or it will swallow you, too.”

Jay didn’t answer, she merely stared out the window as they turned into the airport.

“Will we see you again?” Terri finally asked the question she’d been afraid to ask all day.

Jay turned to face her, noting the slight tremor in the hands that gripped the steering wheel. “You’re family—of course we’ll see each other again.”

Terri swallowed hard, tears welling in her dark eyes. “I’ll look forward to that day then.” She stopped the car in front of the USAir terminal.

Jay opened her door, grabbed the small bag Terri had filled with clothes and snacks for her, and walked around to the driver’s side. She opened the door and pulled Terri out and into an emotional hug. “I will never, ever forget you or Trystan,” she said fiercely. “You gave me my life back. I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll call and let me know you’re all right.”

“Of course. I promise I’ll keep in touch, Terri.”

“I hope so, Acheehen.” Terri got back in the car, blinked back her tears, and gave a small wave. “Be careful.”

“I will. You drive safely.”

“I will.” Terri closed her door and was about to pull out into traffic when a tall, broad-shouldered woman crossed in front of the car. Terri let her pass, waved once more at Jay, and pulled away from the curb.

Lorraine had questioned every cabbie and security officer she could find. No one remembered seeing the Kyle woman. On a whim, she decided to run over to the parking garage and ask the attendant if he had seen her.

He stared at the picture for a minute, nodding. “Yep. Don’t see a gorgeous face like that every day. She was in the passenger seat of a beat-up Camaro. Some young, pimple-faced kid driving.”

“Did you get a license plate number?”

“Heck, no. Beautiful woman like that, who bothers to look at the plate? I only remember the boy ’cause it surprised me that someone as hot as her would be with a chump like that.”

“What time was it when they left?”

“I don’t know, lady. I get tons of folks in and out of here every day.

Couple of hours ago, at least.”

“What direction?”

“West, I think.”

She jogged away.

The Value of Valor

“You’re welcome,” he called after her.

“She’s local,” Lorraine called as she came to a halt in front of Steven and Paul. “Took a ride from some teenager about two hours ago heading west.”

“Good work. According to the intel from the command center, she’s familiar with this area—has stayed here before.”

Lorraine didn’t bother asking how the agents in the command center knew that—with the Commission’s contacts, they probably had access to every credit card transaction Kyle had ever made.

“It’s a big place. How’re we supposed to find her? She could be anywhere.” Paul moaned.

“Our profilers seem to think she’d most likely avoid involving others if at all possible—wouldn’t want to risk harm to them.” Steven’s smile was malevolent. “So I think it’s fair to assume she didn’t know that kid and was planning to ditch him as soon as she could for his own sake. I say she’s probably in a public place.”

“She wouldn’t risk being seen. She’s too recognizable and too smart for that, and we know she wasn’t wearing a disguise when she got in the car,” Lorraine said.

“Chances are she’s not stupid enough to use her credit cards, either,”

Paul chimed in.

“So we narrow the search to public places that don’t cost money and are off the beaten path,” Steven ground out in frustration. He had a lot riding on finding this woman. If I bring her in or eliminate her, maybe Iget a seat at the table.

“She knows we’re coming for her,” Lorraine said.

“Right. So I say she’ll stay on the run. Maybe that kid drove her out of town,” Paul offered.

“I just finished telling you,” Steven gritted his teeth and clenched his fists at his sides, “she’ll get rid of the kid as soon as she can.”

“Which means she’s either still in this area somewhere or is looking to find another way out,” Lorraine said.

“Or maybe she’s waiting for somebody,” Paul offered.

“The command center is checking the whereabouts of her known associates and friends. So far, we know that Barbara Jones took a flight to D.C. from Albany late last night.”

“That’s interesting. Was that before or after Kyle’s ‘death’ was announced?” Lorraine asked.

“We’re checking on the timing. Also, we’re not sure where she went once she got to D.C. There’s no record of her at any hotel, and we know she’s not at Kyle’s place.”

“When can we expect more intel?”

“I’m supposed to check back in half an hour.”

Lynn Ames

“What the heck are we supposed to do in the meantime?” Paul asked.

“I suggest we get some topography maps and take a careful look at the area. Maybe something will pop out at us.”

“This is like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

“If we don’t find the needle, it’ll be all of our necks.”

The Value of Valor

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

ate fidgeted in the passenger seat of Peter’s rental car as her K stomach did somersaults.

“Want to talk about it?” Peter asked.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Yep.”

“You know I’m no wimp, but I have to tell you—I’m scared out of my mind.”

“I’d have to have your head examined if you weren’t.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. Kate, what we’re up against here is one of the most powerful, most resourceful, best organized outfits in the world.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better, champ?”

Peter laughed. “Not the best start to a pep talk, eh?”

“Don’t quit your day job.”

“What I’m saying is that I’m scared, too.”

“Great. This just keeps getting better and better.”

“The bottom line is, we have a job to do here. I don’t know about you, but I’m not much for being manipulated by a bunch of self-interested, power-hungry morons who only care about their own bank accounts and how to make them fatter.”

“You won’t get any argument here.”

“They killed a great president and replaced him with the village idiot.

They killed Keith practically right before your eyes. They’re engineering a coup in China and changing the balance of power in the world. You and I can do something about it. Do you want to sit this one out?”

“No,” Kate answered. “I say we nail their arrogant asses to the wall.”

“I’m right there with you.”

“Now if only I knew how we were going to do that.”

“As far as we know, you’re the only person who spoke to the president about the plot and our only live eyewitness. The first and biggest step for the moment then is to keep you safe.”

“Okay. That’s high on my list, too. What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to poke around, find the chink in their armor, and exploit the hell out of it.”

Lynn Ames

“How do you propose to do that?”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet.”

“This is supposed to give me confidence?”

“Have I ever failed you yet, Katherine?”

“Never.”

“I don’t intend to start now.”

“Oh, that reminds me.” Kate reached into her bag, rummaged around, and came out with a piece of paper. “I don’t know whether you memorized everything I told you before, but…” She paused for a minute and waited until she was sure her voice wouldn’t shake. “I wrote it down for you before you showed up. Just in case.”

Peter reached across the seat and squeezed Kate’s hand. “Did you doubt that I was coming?”

“Not for a second. I just wasn’t sure who was going to win the race, you or them, and I didn’t know how long I could afford to wait.”

Peter took the paper and slid it into his pants pocket. “Oh, ye of little faith.”

Kate laughed. “It wasn’t the faith that was the problem. It was the clock.”

“You needn’t have worried.”

“No? You weren’t?”

“I didn’t say that. I figured I was worrying enough for both of us.”

“If I had only known that, I would have saved mine up for a tougher spot.”

“Speaking of tougher spots…let’s go over how we’re going to get you on that plane without you being detected.”

“Okay.”

“First you’re going to give me your ATM card and your PIN.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to make a phone call and have it appear as though you used your card in Sedona and Flagstaff.”

“How?”

“It’s good to have hacker friends every once in a while. Gustav can make it look like you’ve accessed your account. He can fix the time and the place.”

“Okay.”

“We’re going to wait for him to do that, give the Commission a few minutes to get the phony information, watch the goon squad go running, and put you on the plane.”

“That’s pretty good. But what if one of them stays behind?”

“They won’t. You’ll see.”

“I hope you’re right.”

The Value of Valor

“I hope I’m right, too.” Peter pulled over at a gas station with a pay phone. Although he could have used his cell phone, he wouldn’t—it was critical that his communications at this juncture not be intercepted. He was relatively certain that his phone was clean, but years of experience taught him never to take a chance if it could be avoided. “I’ll be right back. Lay low.”

Peter dropped money into the phone’s coin slot and dialed a number from memory.

“Yeah?”

“Is that any way to answer the phone, Gustav?”

“Pietro, it is when it’s you.”

“You didn’t know it was me.”

“That is of little consequence. What do you need now?”

“I need you to make a few phony bank transactions for me. Can you do that?”

“Of course, why do you even ask?”

“Okay. Here’s the account number...” Peter rattled off the numbers on Kate’s ATM card. “And here’s the PIN.” He provided the four-digit code.

“Yes. Now where would you like the transactions to take place?”

“Ah, you catch on quickly.”

“I was not born yesterday, eh, Pietro?”

“Find me an ATM in Sedona, Arizona. And then find me another one in Flagstaff. The transaction in Sedona should have taken place two hours ago. And the transaction in Flagstaff should have taken place a half hour ago. Is that a problem for you?”

“No, not at all. Give me a minute.”

Peter heard the keys on the computer keyboard rattling.

After a few seconds, Gustav said, “It is done—child’s play.”

“Thank you, my friend.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t mention it.”

The connection was severed.

Peter stood listening to the dial tone a few seconds more, debating whether to make the next call. The last time he’d seen Kevin had been during an undercover operation just after he’d gotten back from Vietnam.

It hadn’t ended well for either one of them. Peter had ended up in the intensive care ward of the hospital in Auckland, and Kevin had lost a brother. Although the ops report afterward had clearly stated that Peter had done everything he could to save Alan, he wasn’t sure Kevin would ever forgive him for surviving when Alan had died.

Finally, he dialed zero for the operator and asked for an international exchange. She made the connection for him.

Lynn Ames

When the phone was picked up on the other end, Peter said, “Hey, it’s Skydiver. I need a favor and a complete blackout.”

There was a momentary silence before a man with a Kiwi accent said,

“Anything for you, mate.”

Peter let out the breath he was holding. “Thanks, buddy. You don’t know how much I appreciate that.”

“What’s past is past, mate. You were always like a brother to me and Alan. I know in my heart that you did whatever you could for him.”

“I wish I could have done more.”

“I know, brother. And that’s what makes it okay. What can I do for you?”

“I need the following items: a large knapsack packed with several pairs of jeans, women’s undergarments, socks, a windbreaker, and some T-shirts for a woman about six feet tall and one hundred fifty-five pounds. Also, sneakers and hiking boots, women’s size nine.”

“Right.”

“I’ll also need a satellite cell phone capable of international use, a compass, some New Zealand dollars, a Sig Sauer, and good road maps for the South and North Islands.”

“Gotcha.”

“Oh, and, Kevin? I’ll need a set of car keys in there and a car parked outside at the usual drop point.”

Kevin laughed. “You don’t ask for much, do you, mate?”

“Thought I’d let you off easy this time.”

“Okay, here’s the phone number for the satellite cell.” Kevin read off a series of numbers. “And here’s the license plate for the car.”

“Thanks, buddy, I owe you.”

“You’ve been saying that for years. I’m still waiting to collect. Does this package need an escort?”

“No. I can’t ask you for that. But I’d like to know if I can rely on you to get wet if need be.”

“No worries, mate. I’ll be standing by. This package, is it important to you?”

“I’d give my life for it in a heartbeat.”

“Then so would I.”

“Thank you, my friend.”

“Take care, Skydiver.”

“You too.”

Peter disconnected the line, walked back to the car, and slid into the driver’s seat. He turned to Kate, whose knees were jiggling in the passenger seat. “Miss me?”

Kate shot him a withering glare. “Hardly.”

The Value of Valor

“You ought to be nice to me. I just bought you at least four hours with the ATM trick—maybe more.”

“In that case, thank you,” she said.

“Okay.” He looked at his watch—3:55 p.m. “We’ve got half an hour to kill before the Commission learns about your bank withdrawals and communicates that information to the goon squad. Let’s get something to eat, I’m starved. ”

Kate looked at him oddly. “Don’t you think it would be a mistake for me to be seen in a restaurant?”

Peter laughed. “I didn’t say you were going to be seen. I just said let’s get something to eat.”

“Don’t split hairs with me, Technowiz.”

“Okay,” he said with exaggerated slowness. “We’re going to go to a restaurant, where I’m going to pick us up some takeout and you’re going to wait in the car. Then we’re going to find a park somewhere to eat it. Is that better?”

“I suppose. Just remember, sarcastic boy, you won’t have me to kick around for a while, so get your licks in while you can.”

“I’ll save some up for when you get back,” he said resolutely. “What kind of food do you want?”

Kate pointed across the street. “Mexican will do.”

Twenty minutes later, they were feasting on enchiladas and refried beans in Papago Park.

“I feel like this is the Last Supper,” Kate said.

“You’re missing the moustache, beard, and Jesus complex, I think. If, on the other hand, you were intimating that this will be your last good meal for a while, I promise you, the food’s not that bad in New Zealand.”

“Very funny.”

“Stay away from the beef—they export all their best stuff.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Speaking of things we need to mention, is there anything I should know about where I’m going once I land on the other side of the world?”

Kate asked.

“Like whether you need to speak the language?”

“You’re just too witty for me.”

“I thought perhaps you could appreciate a little levity today,” Peter said.

“Something to remember you by?”

“That’s not funny, Kate.” For a second, the very real anxiety Peter was feeling came to the surface. Just as quickly, he swallowed it.

“You’re right. I apologize,” Kate said.

Lynn Ames

“Accepted. You’re going to be okay. I’ve made some arrangements for you.”

“What kind of arrangements?”

“When you arrive at the Auckland airport, take a taxi downtown to Albert Park. There’s a clock made out of flowers on the university end of the park. There’s a bench at 7:00—sit on it. On the ground directly beneath you, you’ll find a backpack. Take it—it’s yours.”

“Mine?”

“Yes. A survival kit of sorts.”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “What’ll be in it?”

“Clothes, shoes, a gun, maps, a compass, satellite cell phone with international capabilities, and a set of car keys.” He slid a piece of paper across the picnic table to her. “Here’s the license plate number for the car. It’s yours. Your phone number is on there, too.” He pointed to the paper. “I’ve already copied the information down. I’ll call you to let you know what number to use for me.”

“We’re going to be in communication?”

“Katherine Ann, you didn’t honestly think I’d ship you to the other side of the world without any backup, did you?”

Kate felt tears of gratitude prick her eyes. The nagging fear receded just a little bit. “Thank you, friend. I take it we won’t be using your home number?”

“No. Too risky. I regularly sweep my phones and use anti-bugging equipment at the place in D.C., but I don’t want to take a chance. I’ll call you with the number of another satellite cell phone.”

“Okay. How did you arrange all this?” She had never doubted Peter’s resourcefulness, but this was beyond impressive.

He shrugged. “No big deal. I talked to a friend of mine.”

“No big deal. Right.” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. “I hope whatever favor you called in, it wasn’t too big.”

“No favors were swapped this time, m’dear. Just one buddy helping another one out. The car will be on Wellesley Street. Its location will be marked on the map in your backpack.”

“Got it.”

“If you get in over your head, you’ve got local backup. Call this number; tell the guy who answers the phone Skydiver sent you. He’ll know who you are. You can count on him the same way you can count on me.”

“Who is he?”

“An old friend.”

“Does he have a name?”

“Kevin.”

The Value of Valor

Kate could tell Peter didn’t want to tell her any more about the mysterious Kiwi connection, so she let it drop.

Peter stood up. “Time to get this show on the road. There’s a flight to L.A. in an hour and a half. You’re going to be on it. You’ll connect in L.A. with a Qantas flight that will take you to Auckland. You’ll have to buy the international ticket in L.A.”

“You memorized the flight schedules?”

He nodded. “When I landed at the airport earlier today.”

“You’re the best, Technowiz, you know that?”

“I know, but don’t let it get around.”

“No worries there. I doubt I’ll be meeting anyone to tell any time in the near future.”

“You never know.” Peter could hear the despair that was creeping into Kate’s voice again. He wished he could get on the plane with her, but that wasn’t the answer and he knew it. He had to stay in the States and find a way to expose the Commission and their scheme. It was the only way.

They were silent for the rest of the walk to the car.

As Peter opened the driver’s side door, he said, “I know this won’t be the most comfortable thing for you, but I need you to get on the floor of the passenger seat.”

“There?” Kate pointed to the small space between the dashboard and the seat front.

“’Fraid so, my friend. I think you can shove the seat back just a little farther—it’ll give you a bit more space.”

“Yeah, maybe even a whole quarter of an inch.”

“We try to be accommodating.”

“Never mind that, just get us to the airport already before my legs get stuck permanently in this position.”

“You got it,” he said, moving forward into the traffic heading toward the airport.

“Stay here,” Peter said as he pulled into the darkness of the parking garage. “I’ll be right back.”

He ran across the street and into the terminal. He scanned the busy baggage claim area, seeking out the three faces he had committed to memory.

“Bingo.”

From a position behind baggage carousel three, he saw them. They were second in line at the nearby Avis car rental counter. He watched as the bigger of the two men extricated a large billfold from his suit jacket pocket, removed a wad of bills, and counted them out for the clerk behind the counter.

Lynn Ames

Peter smiled to himself. It was clear the clerk was far too slow and inefficient for the operative. He wondered if the man wouldn’t just reach over the counter and grab the poor woman by the throat and shake her for the keys.

After another minute or two of wrangling, the big man snatched the keys off the counter and threw them at the other man. The second man took off as though his pants were on fire. Peter assumed he’d been sent to fetch the car. When the big man walked away from the counter, the woman said something to him. Peter couldn’t hear anything from where he was standing, but it was obvious that they were arguing. He imagined that the woman didn’t like the plan. Perhaps she wanted to stay behind in case Kate wasn’t really up north. If so, he would have to give her points for intelligence.

In the end, the man and woman left, both of them striding angrily out the main doors where the third member of their team had just pulled up with the car. As soon as the car doors closed, the vehicle peeled out into the traffic in front of the terminal. Satisfied that they’d taken the bait, Peter walked back to his car to get Kate and tell her the coast was clear.

“This is a mistake.”

“Shut up, Lorraine. We’ve been over this before,” Steven growled.

“Kyle used her ATM card twice in the past few hours, once in Sedona and a second time in Flagstaff. The timing is consistent with the amount of time she would have had to drive from here to there. We’ve got her.”

“I thought we agreed that she would never endanger anyone else. I think it’s unlikely she would jeopardize that boy by keeping him with her.”

“She probably dumped him off somewhere and took the car.”

“It’s too much of a risk not to leave someone here in case the ATM

thing is a red herring.”

“The Viper empowered me to make the decisions, and I have. End of discussion.”

Lorraine fumed silently in the backseat.

As she and Peter approached the USAir ticket counter, Kate’s stomach lurched. In a matter of minutes, she would be on her own again, running for her life. She wanted to throw up.

As if sensing Kate’s emotions, Peter remained close to her side. He stayed with her as she used her false ID to purchase a one-way ticket to Los Angeles; they went through security together, and he sat alongside her as they waited in the boarding area at gate number seven for her flight to be announced.

The Value of Valor

“Attention in the terminal, USAir is now boarding Flight 160, non-stop service to Washington, D.C.’s, National Airport. All passengers should now be on board at gate thirteen.”

Kate turned to Peter. “You could make that flight.”

He shook his head. “I’m staying here with you. I’ll catch the next one.”

“The next one isn’t for another three hours.”

“That’s fine.”

Kate knew better than to push him. Instead she squeezed his hand.

“Thanks.”

“None necessary. I hate sending you off on your own again—you know that, right? I wish I could go with you, but we can’t defeat the Commission that way. We can’t.” He took her hands. “You’ll be back here soon enough. We’ll expose these guys and we can get on with our lives.”

She nodded, unable to speak around the golf ball-sized lump in her throat. She leaned her head on his shoulder, enjoying the closeness they shared and silently hoping his confidence in the outcome would rub off on her. At the moment, she didn’t feel very strong or very certain.

Jay looked out the window of Flight 160 as the rest of the passengers filtered onto the plane. A lone tear trickled down her cheek. Leaving Terri had been hard; going home would be harder. She felt a complete sense of desolation. In less than two months time, she had lost everything. Her memory, her physical well-being, her love, and her life.

It simply wasn’t fair. She pounded the armrest with her fist. She’d sat in the boarding area for an hour trying to sort through everything, but the emotions had overwhelmed her. She’d gotten up, walked around, found a pay phone, and tried to call both Peter and Barbara. She’d hung up on both of their answering machines. It was as if everyone and everything in her life had moved on without her.

Where is my place now? Where am I supposed to go? What am Isupposed to do? She thought about going back to New York and Time, but she couldn’t face that yet. She didn’t see how she could simply pick up the thread where she’d left off before she’d left for Arizona.

Jay closed her eyes tightly and tried to make some sense out of the senseless. Kate was dead. She’d been left for dead on the side of a cliff in the middle of nowhere, she’d broken Trystan’s heart, and Terri was hurting over mistakes she couldn’t change and grieving her absence already. Maybe when the funeral was over, she should just pack up Fred and disappear.

She shook her head in frustration. Running away wasn’t the answer and she knew it. She knew it just as surely as she knew she couldn’t stay Lynn Ames

in their house in Albany with memories of Kate crowding her everywhere. It would be too much.

There would never be another woman for her—Kate had been the love of a lifetime. Jay buried her face in her hands and wept for what seemed like the millionth time in the past two days.

“Are you all right, miss?”

Jay rubbed the heel of her hand over her eyes and looked up to see a concerned flight attendant standing over her. “I-I’m fine. Thanks for asking. Just having a tough day.”

“Can I get you anything?”

Can you get me my life back? She smiled. “Not unless you can do something about time travel.”

“Sorry, they didn’t teach us that at flight school.”

“Yeah, I didn’t figure they did.”

“How about a nice cup of tea instead?”

Jay’s smile was bittersweet. “I guess that’ll have to do.”

The Value of Valor

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

hat’ll have to do then,” Peter said into the pay phone outside

“T the boarding area where he’d gone to make a quick call. He could’ve waited until Kate had left for L.A., but the clock was ticking loudly and he didn’t want to waste any time.

“You know I’ll do the best I can, but I can’t give you any guarantees.”

“I’ll take whatever you can give me, Doc. I’ll be in touch soon.” Peter hung up and went back to where Kate was sitting.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“So far. I didn’t want to wait to get the ball rolling.”

“Who did you call?”

“You’re a great reporter, how would you go about uncovering this story?”

Kate didn’t hesitate. “I’d start in the most obvious place—prove the murder. How did the president really die? We have a body to work with; who did the autopsy? What were the results?”

Peter smiled and nodded. “That’s where I thought we’d find the smoking gun, too.”

“So back to the original question. Who did you call?”

“I called a friend who works for the medical examiner at Bethesda Naval Hospital, where the president died.”

“Did you get anything?”

“Not yet. She says she never saw the body.”

“Does she usually?”

“She’s usually the one doing the autopsy.”

“Oh. Hmm.”

“Exactly.”

“What does she think is going on?”

“She isn’t sure. The ME is being particularly closed-mouthed about it. I asked Melanie if she could send me a copy of the autopsy report, but she said every copy made is accounted for and requires the sign-off of the ME. The best she could try for would be to get a peek at the report herself and relate the findings to me over the phone.”

“It’s better than nothing.”

Lynn Ames

“Barely. We’d need the actual report if we wanted to prove anything.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Kate said.

“Mmm hmm.”

“What is it?”

“She sounded really uneasy. Like she was scared.”

“Of what?”

“I’m not sure. I think I’ll buy her dinner when I get home, though.”

“Good thinking, Romeo.”

“Not that kind of dinner, gutterbrain. I think she was reluctant to talk over the phone. Perhaps she’ll tell me more in person.”

“Mmm hmm. What exactly does this doctor look like?”

Peter pretended to think. “Let’s see…five-foot-eight, nice body, long blonde hair, legs that go on forever, sky blue eyes…”

“Well, it’s great that you’re willing to make a sacrifice for the cause by going out with her.”

“I know. I’m selfless that way.”

“USAir is now boarding Flight 7188 to Los Angeles. All first-class passengers, passengers requiring assistance, or those traveling with small children are welcome to board.”

Kate sucked in a sharp breath. “Well, I guess this is it then, eh?”

Peter put his hand in his pocket to hide the fact that it was shaking.

“Yep, they’re calling your number.”

Kate shifted from foot to foot. “You’re going to call me, right?”

“You know I will, Spinmeister. I promise you, you won’t be alone out there, okay?”

“Okay.” She paused. “How long do you think I have before they figure it out and come after me again?”

Peter had been waiting for the question. “It’ll take them four hours to get to Flagstaff and back alone, unless they find themselves a plane. That doesn’t include the time they’ll have to spend up there trying to figure out where you might have gone after you made the last ATM

transaction.”

Kate looked at Peter’s mischievous grin. “You’ve got more in store for them, I take it?”

“You bet. I haven’t decided yet whether you should head toward Colorado or Alaska.”

“You’re evil.”

“I can be.”

She kissed him on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re on my side.”

Peter gathered her into his arms and squeezed tightly. “Always. Be safe,” he whispered in her ear, his voice choked with emotion.

The Value of Valor

“I will be. After all, if I don’t come back, Fred will weigh three hundred pounds.”

“I think that’s just a little bit of an exaggeration, don’t you?”

Kate laughed. “Not by much.” She gave Peter one more kiss on the cheek. “Give him a scratch for me, will you?”

“You know I will. I’ll be in touch soon, I promise.”

“You’d better be.” She broke contact first and moved toward the jetway. When she reached the ticket agent at the threshold, she looked back one last time and waved weakly, willing herself not to turn and run back to where Peter was still standing.

Peter waved back, watching as Kate disappeared from sight. He sat down in the empty boarding area, put his head in his hands, and cried. He wept for Kate, knowing how scared and alone she felt; he wept for Jay, cruelly murdered for meaningless vengeance; and he wept for himself, for all that he held inside. He hadn’t told Kate the very thing he’d flown back to Washington to tell her in the first place: that he knew who had ordered Jay killed. He didn’t want to depress Kate further or distract from her focus. He also knew that if he told her, there was a good chance she would go to Southport and strangle David Breathwaite with her bare hands. He vowed that he would tell her as soon as this was over.

Whenever that would be.

Jay stopped just short of baggage claim when she saw a pay phone.

She threw some change in the coin slot and dialed Peter’s number in Albany. After the fourth ring, knowing the answering machine was about to pick up again, she hung up. She repeated the same process with Barbara, getting the same results. It finally occurred to her that they were both probably en route to D.C. for Kate’s funeral.

The thought of it made her sick to her stomach, and she ran to the nearby ladies room, where she threw up. When she could gather herself again, she washed her face, rinsed out her mouth, and walked back into the baggage claim area.

She hesitated, then walked over to the hotel courtesy phones. Even if she had a key to her and Kate’s condo, she knew she couldn’t go back there—not yet. She shuddered. The very notion of returning to the home they had so recently bought together, furnished, and planned to share made her stomach roil yet again. She picked up the phone and dialed the phone number for the Marriott in Alexandria.

Kate arrived in L.A. two hours before her flight to Auckland was due to take off. She purchased a ticket under her new alias, browsed a bookstore on the concourse, bought several mysteries to read on the plane, and made her way to the boarding gate. Despite the fact that she Lynn Ames

knew her pursuers were probably still looking for her in northern Arizona, she took care to sit where she could see everyone coming and going.

She cracked open the first novel, hoping to distract herself. She managed to read two paragraphs in twenty minutes. She sighed and closed the book, focusing once again on the situation at hand.

Maybe Peter was right—she should try approaching the problem like a good reporter. She sorted through the available facts. They knew the partial answer to who was behind the scheme, but they might never know all the players. They had discovered at least one facet of the endgame—

open the Communist countries to capitalism to exploit those markets.

The first step was already under way, based on the order Wheeler gave to the CIA station chief. China was the first target. Okay, that takes care ofthe who, what, why, and where. As for the when, Keith had said his boss gave them a three-month window in which to work, with the rebellion beginning in April.

What evidence did they have? A dead president; the CIA station chief’s notes—which had no doubt either been destroyed or safeguarded by this time; Keith, whose body might never be found; phone records tying the vice president to the CIA station chief; a phone call between Wheeler and Hawthorne; and the information that Kate had gleaned thirdhand from Keith. Without the autopsy results proving that the president was murdered, they didn’t have much that would stand up in a court of law.

As Kate finished her musings about the Commission and the plot, a stray thought occurred to her. “Damn!” She pounded her fist on her leg.

In all the excitement, she’d forgotten to ask Peter the outcome of his trip to see the detective in New York City. Wouldn’t he have told her if he’d come up with a lead in Jay’s death? She pondered that for a moment. Not if he was afraid it would distract her from the matter at hand. “Damn it all!”

By the time Peter turned the key in the lock at his place, it was after midnight. Fred barked on the other side of the door, and Peter hurried to get inside so he wouldn’t wake Barbara.

“Shh. Shh, buddy. I see you.” Fred danced in and out of Peter’s legs, his tail wagging furiously. Peter knelt down and gave the dog a long hug.

“That’s from your mama, buddy. She can’t wait to come home to you.”

“How is she?” Barbara asked as she walked into the living room.

“Hey.” Peter walked over and gave Barbara a hug. “She’s okay.”

Barbara raised an eyebrow, and Peter shrugged.

The Value of Valor

“She’s scared, she’s depressed, she’s lonely, and she’s being hunted by some very dangerous people. Under the circumstances, I’d say she’s doing about as well as can be expected.”

“You found her based on what I told you?”

“You said someplace hot and dry.”

“That was all you needed to know?”

Peter laughed, “It was enough.”

“Where is she now or shouldn’t I ask that?”

Peter debated whether or not to share everything with Barbara. The information could make her a target, too. On the other hand, the more people who knew, the harder it would be for the Commission to keep their plan under wraps.

Before he could answer, Barbara said, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not about whether or not I want to, it’s a matter of your safety.”

Barbara digested that for a moment. “Oh. You think they might come after me?”

“I think they’ll do whatever they think is necessary to find Kate at this point.”

“D-do you think they know about me?”

“I’m sure they do, just as they know about me. Did you use your credit card to buy the airline ticket to get here?”

“Of course.”

“Then you can be sure they know you’re here.”

Barbara’s face blanched. “Th-they do?”

Peter nodded. “The good news is that I rented this condo under another name, so I doubt they’ve been able to figure out your exact location yet.”

“Yet.” Barbara swallowed hard. There was another moment of silence. “Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I want to know where Kate is.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “Okay. Trust me that she’s as safe as she can be given the circumstances.”

“I do trust you. It’s me I don’t trust. I want to know that no matter what, I’ll never jeopardize our Kate.”

“You won’t.”

“What’s the game plan?”

“Collect evidence and catch the bad guys. Then bring Kate home.”

Barbara laughed. “Sounds easy enough.”

“Piece of cake.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

Lynn Ames

“Is there anything I can do to help? Other than watch Fred, I mean.”

“Actually, I think the fact that we were taking good care of him was the most comforting thing to Kate.”

Barbara chuckled. “Figures.”

“Thanks for being here, by the way. If you hadn’t been, I would’ve missed her phone call, and who knows what might have happened.” Peter was not unaccustomed to danger, but the idea of Kate being out there all alone and without any resources other than her wits made him crazy.

“She’s not here. I told you she wasn’t.” Lorraine slammed a coffee mug down on the table at the hotel in Flagstaff where they had stopped for the night.

“Shut up.” Steven paced around the room, a finger in one ear, a satellite telephone in the other. “Yes, yes. I understand. Right.” He hung up the phone. “She used a credit card to buy gas in Colorado. She must be driving through the night or else she flew to Denver and rented a car.”

“She didn’t have enough time to drive to Denver. I think we have to consider the possibility that it’s all a ruse.”

“The woman is in public relations, not espionage or subterfuge. How do you figure she managed to fake two ATM withdrawals and one credit card transaction?”

“She’s also very bright and has friends. What about Peter Enright?”

“What about him?”

“There’s very little information available about him other than that he worked for the New York State Department of Correctional Services for years and is an independent consultant with an expertise in weapons and technology.”

“So?”

“So I suspect he’s more than what his dossier says on paper. He travels often to Washington and was seen several times in the company of the president.”

“We’re tracking him.”

“My point is that he may already have made contact with Kyle and helped her.”

“There’s no record of him anywhere near Arizona.”

Lorraine bit her tongue in an effort to keep from telling Steven what a moron she thought he was. “A man with the kind of resources Enright has wouldn’t necessarily leave a trace.”

“We have to stick with the evidence we have.”

“One of us should be looking into other possibilities.”

“The Viper has ordered us to stay on her trail.”

“My point precisely. We’re not on her trail.” Lorraine planted her palms on the small table that separated her from Steven.

The Value of Valor

“We leave for Colorado in two hours. I suggest you get some sleep,”

he hissed. “You too, Paul.”

The sound of the door as it slammed behind Lorraine echoed loudly in the quiet of the room.

“Albert Park, please.”

“American, eh?” the cabbie asked as he pulled away from the curb.

“Is it that obvious?” Kate smiled at the young man, who looked something like a California surfer.

“’Fraid so, love. The good news for you is that we like most Americans ’round here. We’re a pretty friendly lot.”

“That’s what I’ve heard.”

“You on vacation?”

“Um, sort of.”

“Well, you’ll love it here, that’s for sure.”

Kate smiled at him in the rearview mirror, grateful that everything she read about Kiwis respecting privacy seemed to be true.

“Here you go, love, Albert Park.”

“Thank you.” She reached into her pocket, fishing for her wallet.

“Damn. I only have American money, is that okay?”

“Brilliant, love.” At her blank stare, he translated, “That’s great. I love American money.”

“Here you go.”

“Enjoy your stay.”

She stepped out into the bright sunshine and squinted, trying to get her bearings. She spotted a beautiful, majestic oak tree and found herself drawn to it. Its arms were as big as most tree trunks, and for a fleeting moment, she was tempted to climb it. She laughed at herself, remembering all the times her mother had yelled at her for climbing trees in her good clothes.

She sought the shade of the tree, surprised at the heat of the New Zealand summer. She leaned her shoulder against a branch and surveyed the area. Young couples reclined on blankets on the grass, business people enjoyed their lunches on the benches that lined the park, and children ran around what appeared to be a circular path.

She pushed off the tree and followed the kids. She walked at a leisurely pace, stepping off the path several times to get out of the way of fast-moving children. After several hundred yards, she saw it—a clock.

The face was made of grass, the hands and numbers fashioned out of beautiful flowers.

She walked around until she was at 7:00 and sat on the bench without looking down. She casually stretched her arms over the back of the bench and tucked her feet under it. There! She kicked something with her heel.

Lynn Ames

It felt like a backpack. She looked around. No one seemed to be paying any attention to her. She reached under the seat, pulled out a navy blue backpack, and set it on the seat next to her.

For a moment, she simply ran her trembling fingers over the rough material, grateful beyond measure for Peter and his network of contacts.

She unzipped the main compartment, peering inside to find several pairs of jeans, two pairs of shorts, some T-shirts, a shiny new pair of hiking boots, a pair of sneakers, some athletic socks, underwear, and two sports bras. She rezipped that compartment and unzipped the smaller pocket. In it, she found a satellite cell phone, a compass, maps, a gun, and a set of car keys.

She wrapped her fingers around the phone, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. Several tears leaked out and rolled down her temples.

“Thank you, Peter. I can’t tell you what it means to know I’m not alone out here. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She took the phone out and powered it on, pleased to see that it had both battery power and signal. She palmed the car keys, zipped the small compartment, and stood, taking a last look around. Nothing seemed amiss, and no one seemed to be watching her. Satisfied, she shouldered the pack and strolled through the park until she found Wellesley Street. It took only a couple of minutes before she found the car.

Across the way, an unassuming businessman folded his newspaper, packed up his lunch, and followed her. “I’ll give you this, Skydiver, she certainly is a looker. No wonder you’re willing to die for her.”

Peter sat across the dinner table from Dr. Melanie Anders. She was everything he’d described to Kate and more. She was beautiful, intelligent, and capable; and at the moment, she was scared to death.

“Look, Peter, I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever it is, I can’t help you.”

“Tell me what happened when the president died, Mel. Take me through it.”

“I can’t.”

“I promise you, no one will hurt you.”

“It’s not that.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “I don’t know what happened. I wasn’t allowed in the room.”

“Is that unusual?”

“God, yes. I’m usually the one in charge of maintaining the chain of custody—making sure nothing happens to the body after death and before the autopsy.”

“And this time?”

“Dr. Taggart—the ME—cleared the room. No one was allowed in.”

The Value of Valor

“Is there a written protocol that describes what’s supposed to happen in a case like this, where a president dies?”

“Yes.”

“Was the protocol followed in President Hyland’s case?”

Melanie shook her head miserably. “No,” she whispered. “Not only that, but it was made very clear to me that asking questions or talking about the case would be severely frowned upon.”

He reached across the table for her hand. “Who threatened you?”

“N-no one.”

“Come on, Mel. This is me. Who threatened you?”

“I have to go.” She tried to pull away from him.

“Wait,” he exerted just enough pressure on her hands to keep her from getting up. “At least tell me who the doctor was who pronounced the president dead and what the cause of death was.”

“I can’t.”

The terror was clearly visible in her eyes, so Peter relented. “Okay.

Okay. I won’t push you anymore. If you change your mind, give me a call.”

“Why are you so interested in all this, anyway?”

Peter shook his head. “Better if you don’t know.”

She nodded in understanding. “I’ve really got to go.”

“Keep in touch, will you?”

She laughed. “You’re a fine one to talk. You’re never around.”

“You’ve got a point there. Take care, Mel.”

“You too, Peter.” She kissed him on the cheek before getting up and leaving the restaurant.

Peter watched her until she was out of sight, his mind clicking on possible explanations for why the president’s case was handled in such a secretive manner. Regardless, the lack of a cause of death and an autopsy report meant that he was missing a critical piece of evidence. Without it, he might not be able to prove that the Commission killed the president and more importantly, he might not be able to save Kate.

Lynn Ames

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

he rain was coming down hard as dignitaries, friends, and the T media gathered in the cathedral for Kate’s funeral. Peter and Barbara arrived together and sat in the second row—the first row was reserved for the president of the United States and his entourage.

Peter watched the crowd file in; he recognized faces from Kate’s past—co-workers from her television days, colleagues from other media outlets, members of the White House press corps, the Senate majority leader, the speaker of the House, members of President Hyland’s Cabinet, the commissioner and former commissioner of DOCS, Michael Vendetti, and the rest of Kate’s staff.

He also took note of the five operatives who took up strategic positions around the cathedral. He watched them scanning the crowd, obviously looking for anything that would lead them to Kate.

“Peter Enright?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Mimi Hyland.” The former first lady sat down to his right as a host of camera shutters clicked and flashes exploded in her face. “My husband spoke very highly of you.”

“I thought the world of him, too, Mrs. Hyland. He was a great man; we’ll all miss him.”

Mimi nodded, her hands shaking slightly. “No one more so than I, I assure you.”

“Mrs. Hyland?”

“Mimi, please.”

“Where is your Secret Service detail?”

Mimi shrugged, seemingly caught off balance by the blunt question.

“They gave me the option to continue using their services—I declined. I just wouldn’t feel comfortable using the taxpayers’ money to protect me.

After all, what could I need protection from?”

Peter chose to ignore the question, thinking that she might very well be better off without them.

“Charlie had a great deal of confidence in you, Peter—in your ability to get to the bottom of things. He never told me precisely what it was you The Value of Valor

were working on for him—only that he knew you’d find the answers he sought.”

“I appreciate that, ma’am.”

“That’s why I need to talk to you.”

Peter turned to face her, a question in his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I understand you were a great friend of Kate’s, and I don’t want to intrude on your grief, but I need some answers, and I can’t seem to get them on my own. It-it’s about Charlie’s treatment at the hospital.”

“Mrs. Hyland?” Peter cut her off. “Is there any chance we can discuss this later, in a more private setting?” His gaze shifted around the room as he noted the many eyes upon them.

Mimi looked around, as well, as if noticing the attention her presence garnered for the first time. “Oh. Of course. By all means.”

“Can we get together later this afternoon? I could stop by your house.”

“That would be fine, Peter.”

“Then I’ll see you this afternoon. Can I call you to confirm the address and time?”

“Of course.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a commotion at the back of the hall. With great fanfare, President Wheeler made his entrance, flanked by a cadre of Secret Service agents. He took his seat in the front row as agents fanned out around him.

Seconds later, the priest appeared at the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen, good friends, we are gathered here today to mourn the passing of a wonderful and talented woman—Katherine Kyle. While we grieve over the tragic end of her time here on Earth, let us celebrate that Katherine has gone to a far better place…”

Barbara leaned over to Peter, “Can you believe this load of crap?

Kate doesn’t have a religious bone in her body. If she were here, she’d be throwing things at this idiot.”

Peter nodded his assent as he continued to monitor the operatives, following their lines of sight to determine on whom they were focused.

He barely heard the priest when he said, “Ladies and gentlemen, the president has asked to say a few words about Katherine.”

Wheeler rose from his seat and ambled to the altar. He fumbled as he pulled a dog-eared piece of paper from his right inside breast pocket.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I’m truly sorry to be standing up here today, eulogizing a woman who died far too young. I didn’t know Katie all that well…”

“Obviously, asshole,” Barbara hissed in Peter’s ear. “He has no idea what Kate would do to him if she knew he’d called her Katie.”

Lynn Ames

“…but I know President Hyland thought the world of her. On behalf of this country and its people, I think it appropriate to honor Katie by acknowledging her contributions to the betterment of mankind…”

“What a load of hooey,” Barbara said under her breath.

“…and preserving her memory with the planting of a tree on the grounds of the White House. A plaque will be erected dedicating the tree to her to commemorate her life.”

“On behalf of Katherine, I thank you for that great honor, Mr.

President, I’m sure she’s watching over us all now and appreciates the gesture,” the priest said. “Finally, let us say a prayer that Katherine will continue to watch over all of us and remain a bright star in our lives for all eternity. In the Lord’s name, I ask it. Amen.”

The president and his entourage were the first to exit the building, and everyone was required to remain seated until his motorcade left the parking lot.

As the crowd began to disperse, Peter noticed movement in his peripheral vision—a brief glimpse of blonde, quickly covered by a black scarf. Even as his heart leapt in his chest, he remained outwardly calm.

He leaned over to Barbara and whispered urgently, “Don’t ask me questions right now; I need you to do something.”

“Okay.”

“I want you to start running to your right. When you get outside, hail a cab, and take it to the airport. Make it look like you’re desperate to get away. Go inside and buy a ticket on a flight to Denver with your credit card. Board the plane. When you get to Denver, call this number,” he rattled off ten digits. “Somebody will pick you up.”

“What?”

“No questions. Just do it. The guy who picks you up will deposit you back at the airport a few hours later to go back to Albany. He’ll already have a ticket for you in another name. I’ll reimburse you and explain later.” Peter watched as the operatives around the room pretended not to watch them. “Go now. Run as if your life depends on it.”

Barbara pivoted on her heel and made a beeline for the side exit.

Peter smiled grimly as all five operatives took off at a dead run after her.

When he was sure they were gone, he moved quickly to the opposite side exit, where he’d last seen the woman in black. As he exited the cathedral, he nearly ran over a person leaning against the building next to the door.

“I knew you’d see me and come.”

“Jay? Thank God.” As tears started to cloud his vision, he hustled her away—to a car he had parked in an adjacent lot. “Get in quickly. And stay low.”

She did as she was told. Peter shut his car door as casually as he could, started the vehicle, and drove away.

The Value of Valor

From the floor of the passenger side, Jay said, “This wasn’t exactly how I pictured our reunion.”

Peter continued to monitor his mirrors, but he smiled down at Jay, taking his right hand from the steering wheel and brushing it across her cheek. “You have no idea how wonderful it is to see you. I can’t believe you’re here, and I want to hear all about it. Right now, though, my top priority is keeping you a secret.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m pretty sure Kate will kill me if anything happens to you.”

“K-Kate? Peter, what are you saying?” Jay’s head felt light—she put her hand on the seat to steady herself.

“I’m saying Kate is very much alive or at least she was when I left her the night before last. If I let anyone so much as harm a hair on your head, she’ll strangle me with her bare hands.”

Jay’s head fell forward until her forehead made contact with the seat.

Her shoulders shook as she wept, an intense feeling of relief washing over her.

“Hey. Hey. None of that in my car—this one’s borrowed and I can’t return it with water stains on the seat.” Peter shifted so he could rub Jay’s back briefly. “It’s okay, honey.”

“She’s alive?” Jay raised tear-filled eyes to Peter’s, her voice thick with emotion.

“Yes, she is, although there are some very bad men who’d like it to be otherwise.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know you don’t, Jay. Let me just get you someplace safe where we can talk about everything, okay?”

“But…okay,” Jay agreed, although all she really wanted to do was get answers. She blew her nose with a tissue she produced from a black trench coat.

Peter returned his focus to the traffic around him.

Peter pulled up to his condo, having taken the most circuitous route he could imagine. He was certain he hadn’t been followed, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. Before the day was over, he would have a new place rented. He pulled into the garage next to Kate’s car. “You can get up now.”

“Where are we? Is she here?” Jay asked, her pulse quickening as she spotted the BMW.

“No, honey. But there is someone here who’s going to be very glad to see you.” He opened the door to the condo and stepped aside for her to enter.

Lynn Ames

She hadn’t made it two steps in the door before a seventy-five-pound blur came flying at her, tail wagging furiously.

“Fred! Oh, my God. Fred.” Jay knelt on the ground and caught the dog around the shoulders, hugging him tightly to her. “I’ve missed you so much.” Her tears soaked his fur, as he gleefully returned the affection.

He licked her ear, then her face, and finally her chin, his whole body wiggling with joy.

Peter stood back smiling from ear to ear. “In case you care, and I’m pretty sure you don’t, your black coat is now white.”

Jay stood, Fred still glued to her side. She looked down at her dog hair-covered coat. “As if I care.” She turned and threw herself into Peter’s arms, so overwhelmed by emotion she didn’t know what to say.

Peter wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. He could feel her trembling, and it made him want to go to Southport himself to find Breathwaite. “You’re safe now, Jay. Everything’s okay.”

“Is it?”

“Getting better every second.”

“Peter, where is Kate? Why are they saying she’s dead?” Jay could hardly contain herself.

“Come inside first. Let me look at you.” He led the way into the living room, helping her out of her coat along the way. “Nice dress.”

Jay looked down. “It belonged to a friend of mine.” She thought of Terri and sent her a silent thank you.

“Sit down, if Fred will let you.” He shook his head at the dog, who had attached himself to Jay’s leg and showed no inclination of letting her go anywhere.

Jay sat on the sofa, laughing as Fred plopped down on her foot, his back leaning against her legs. “I’ve missed you, too, buddy.” She scratched him behind the ears.

“Jay, where have you been? I searched for you.”

“I know. I found that out a couple of days ago. Terri told me.”

“Terri. The healer on the reservation near Chinle?”

Jay nodded. “It’s a long story. She wasn’t trying to keep you away from me. I mean she was, but only because she didn’t know if you were one of the ones trying to kill me.”

“How did you survive that crash? I saw what was left of the car.”

Peter closed his eyes, feeling a little queasy as his mind conjured up a vision of the wreckage.

“You were there?”

“A few days after the crash.”

“W-was Kate there?” The idea of her lover seeing the charred hull of her rental car made Jay’s stomach roil.

The Value of Valor

“She was there the day of the crash, honey.” Peter took Jay’s hand, which was shaking. “The president flew her out there as soon as she got the phone call.”

“Oh, God.” Jay swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. “Poor Kate.”

“Mmm. She was a mess. Apparently tried to go in there after you. A state trooper had to hold her back.”

Jay’s smile was bittersweet. “That’s my girl.”

“What happened?”

“Good question. I’ve been asking myself the same thing. The last thing I remember was picking up a poor woman whose boyfriend had just ditched her by the side of the road.”

“That explains the forensic evidence the FBI found at the scene—

some teeth and bones.”

Jay nodded. “I feel so badly about that—she died because I picked her up.”

“You were only trying to help her.”

“Not only that, but Terri had heard about the accident and was convinced that the dead woman was me.” Jay sighed. “Anyway, when I pulled over to give her a lift, I noticed the car behind me stopped about a hundred feet back. It was creepy—I felt like I was being followed. After she got in, I sped up. Whoever was in the car chased me.” Jay shuddered.

“I don’t remember the accident or going over the edge.”

“How did you survive?” Peter wondered again, a hint of awe in his voice.

“Some boys from the reservation were working near where my car went over the edge. They said the car hung on a ledge briefly before it crashed to the bottom of the canyon. They got to it in time to pull me out; they said the other woman was already dead. When I woke up, it was several days later. I was in the clinic and I couldn’t remember anything.”

“Were you on the reservation the whole time?”

“Yes. I-I was in very bad shape for a long time. Peter,” Jay looked at him, a profound sadness in her eyes, “I didn’t even know my own name until the other day when CNN announced Kate’s death. That brought everything back.” Jay’s lower lip started to tremble. “If I could’ve figured it out sooner, Kate wouldn’t have had to go through thinking she’d lost me.” Quietly, she added, “I know what that feels like—the last two months must have been pure torture for her.”

Peter got out of his chair and moved to her side. “Barbara and I have been worried about her.”

Jay’s expression turned resolute. “I intend to fix that.”

“Good.” Peter squeezed Jay’s shoulder.

Lynn Ames

“Why are they saying Kate’s dead? And this time, you’d better answer me,” Jay threatened.

“The Commission wanted everyone to believe Kate was dead to cover her absence, Jay. I’m telling you, I was with her the day before yesterday at the airport in Phoenix.”

“Phoenix?” Jay’s head snapped up. “Day before yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“What time?”

“I don’t remember, honey. It was after noon sometime.”

Jay groaned and buried her head in her hands.

“What? What is it?”

“I was in the airport then.”

“You were?”

“Yes. I caught a mid-afternoon flight here.”

Peter nodded. He didn’t want to mention that the flight Jay took was most likely the one Kate had urged him to get on.

“By the way, where’s Barbara? I thought I saw her at the funeral.”

“You did. I sent her to Denver straight from the service.”

“Denver? Why?”

“Because I saw you.”

“Okay, cryptic boy, could you try explaining in English, please?”

Peter heaved a heavy sigh. “There were five men in the cathedral who were there for the sole purpose of trying to find clues as to Kate’s whereabouts. I sent Barbara to Denver because that’s the last lead the goons had on her.”

“You sent them to Kate’s location?” Jay’s posture stiffened slightly.

“No. I sent them to the last place they thought Kate was. If I’m not mistaken, Kate is in New Zealand by now.”

“New Zealand?”

“I thought she’d be safe there—at least for a while.”

“Peter, who are these people? What do they want with Kate?”

Peter knew he couldn’t keep the details from Jay, so he told her everything.

When he was done, she whistled. “If you weren’t the one telling me, I’d never believe a word of it.”

“That’s our biggest problem. Kate won’t be safe until we expose these guys. We can’t do that without any evidence or we’ll lose all credibility.”

“So Kate is going to have to keep running until we can prove what happened?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Let’s get to work.”

The Value of Valor

Peter smiled and kissed Jay on the top of her head. “It’s great to have you back, half pint. We all missed you.”

“Believe me, it’s great to be back. Now tell me where to start.”

Peter didn’t even need to think. “I’m getting you to the airport this afternoon.”

“Where am I going?”

“To New Zealand.”

“To Kate?” Jay’s heart leapt.

“You bet.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. Jay, she’s feeling very alone and scared. She needs you.”

“I think I understand what that feels like.” Jay’s voice was soft and sad.

“I’m sure you do. I won’t be responsible for the two of you being apart for another minute.”

“Won’t these guys figure it out?”

“We’re going to see a friend of mine first. You’ll need an alias and money.”

“I guess going to the ATM is out, huh?”

“Yes.”

Jay thought for a minute. “Can I pick my own name?”

“I suppose. Got a preference?”

“Yes. I want to be Alexa.” She thought about asking him to make her last name “Lightfoot” but realized she could never pass for Native American. “I don’t care what last name you give me.”

“Okay, I think we can do that. We’d better get going. I’ve got to get you to L.A. in time to catch tonight’s flight to Auckland.”

“Is there a way to get in touch with Kate? Should we tell her I’m on my way?”

Peter considered. “What do you think?”

Jay bit her lip. “As much as I don’t want her to suffer for another minute, I’m afraid telling her over the phone will make her lose focus.”

“Smart thinking. I agree.”

“Okay, then. How am I going to find her when I get there?”

“I’ll call Kate to get her location—she’s got a satellite phone, and she’s expecting me. I’ll have someone pick you up at the airport and take you to her.”

Jay jumped on Peter, knocking him over so that he was no longer sitting. “You’re the best. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, squirt. Jay?”

“Yeah?” Jay pushed herself off Peter and stood up.

Lynn Ames

“There’s one more thing. I didn’t tell Kate because I didn’t think she’d get on the plane if I did.”

“Okay.” Jay sat back down.

“I know who tried to kill you.”

“You do?”

“Yes. It was David Breathwaite. He hired a thug named Kirk Hexall to take you out.”

“Why?” Jay asked in a whisper.

“He wanted to get back at Kate, I guess.”

“For putting him away?”

“For that and for foiling his plans. There’s no rhyme or reason with a maniac like that, honey.”

“I’ll never understand that level of hatred.”

“I’m glad you won’t—it’s part of what makes you who you are, Jay.

Don’t ever change.”

“You were right not to tell Kate—she’d have found him in prison and strangled his scrawny little neck. Peter?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Do you think I’m safe now?”

“Yes, I do. Hexall was only in it for the money. He’s most likely been paid by now. I’m sure he wouldn’t bother you again, but just in case, I’ve turned my evidence over to a buddy of mine at the FBI. I imagine if Hexall isn’t in custody already, he will be soon.”

“What about Breathwaite?”

“Don’t worry about him. I’ve got it covered.”

“Do I want to know how?”

Peter laughed. “No, Jamison, I don’t believe you do.”

“Didn’t think so.”

“You relax here with Fred for a few minutes. I’ve got to make some phone calls.”

Barbara stood in line waiting to board a plane bound for Denver. She had no idea why she was going there, but she was sure Peter knew what he was doing. She assumed it had something to do with Kate’s safety, and that was a good enough reason for her to spend the rest of her day and night riding around in airplanes flying across the country and back.

She shook her head ruefully. You were the one who said you didn’t wantto know, Barbara, right? Live with it.

She glanced around, noticing for the first time five men in dark suits trying to act nonchalant in the boarding area. She swallowed hard. Peterknows what he’s doing. He would never endanger me. He said there’d besomeone on the other end of this plane ride to pick me up. I trust Peter, IThe Value of Valor

trust Peter, I trust Peter. If she said it in her head enough times, she might really believe it.

Peter, Jay, and Fred pulled up in front of a town house in an exclusive section of Alexandria. “I don’t want to take a chance on the Commission crashing my place and hurting Fred, Jay.”

“And I’m grateful for that. Where are we taking him?”

“He’s going to have a short holiday with a new friend.” Sensing Jay’s anxiety, he added, “Don’t worry—I promise, you’ll love his baby sitter.”

Jay clipped the leash on Fred, and the three of them walked to the front door. Peter rang the doorbell.

Several seconds later, it was answered by Mimi Hyland. “Hello. You must be Fred.” She reached down and gave the dog a hug.

Jay, reeling from the shock of seeing the former first lady on the other side of the door, looked at Peter and winked, mouthing the word,

“Wow.”

“I’m sorry, how rude of me.” Mimi rose and looked at Peter. “I should’ve invited you and your friend in.” Her voice trailed off as her gaze settled on Jay. “Aren’t you? You couldn’t be…” Her face paled.

“Mrs. Hyland, may we come inside?” Peter asked, not wanting to draw attention from onlookers.

Mimi recovered. “Of course. Where are my manners?” She gestured for them to step into the foyer, but her eyes remained riveted on Jay.

“You are, aren’t you? You’re Jamison Parker. I know we only met once—at the Legislative Correspondents’ Association affair in Albany—

but I’d remember you anywhere. How can that be? I thought…”

Jay stepped forward and shook Mimi’s limp hand. “It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Hyland. As you can see, I’m not dead, although for a while there, it was touch and go.”

Mimi walked over to a sofa and plopped gracelessly into it. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s a very long story. The shortest possible version is that my injuries from the car accident included traumatic amnesia. It wasn’t until I saw Kate’s face on CNN after her d-death, that I remembered everything and was able to find my way home.”

“Oh,” Mimi put her hand to her mouth, “you poor dear. To recover your memory only to discover that Kate was gone. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I’m sorry for your loss, as well.” Jay looked to Peter for cues, unsure how much he intended to share with the former first lady.

“Thank you. I can’t imagine how it is that I didn’t see you at the service today.”

Lynn Ames

Before she could continue with that line of thought, Peter steered her to the topic at hand. “Mrs. Hyland, at the funeral, you said you wanted to talk about your husband.”

“Yes, I do.” She seemed to notice for the first time that Jay still held Fred on a leash. “Please, you can let Fred go—my house is his house—

he’s free to go anywhere he wishes. I hope he likes it here; Charlie and I bought this place years ago when we promised each other we’d get him elected to national office. Back then, we weren’t thinking about the presidency—just Congress.” Her voice was wistful.

Jay unclipped the leash, leaving Fred free to explore, which of course, he did.

“You said something about the president’s hospital treatment.”

Mimi sighed and leaned back. “For more years than I’d care to count, Ben Conrad has been my husband’s personal physician. When we came to Washington, we insisted that he come with us.” Her eyes took on a far-away expression. “That night, Ben was apparently at the hospital waiting for Charlie’s ambulance to arrive. That’s the last time anyone saw him.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s simply vanished.”

“He didn’t treat the president when the ambulance arrived?”

“No, apparently he got called away, or so I’ve been told. I’ve been trying to get in touch with him ever since.” Her voice broke. “I want—

no, I need—to understand what happened to Charlie. I trust Ben to give me the answers.”

“Mrs. Hyland,” Jay broke in, her reporter’s curiosity taking over,

“who did treat your husband, if it wasn’t Dr. Conrad?”

“A doctor I’d never met before. He was on duty that night.”

“Do you recall his name?”

“It started with an E…E-n-g something.” She pressed her lips together in concentration. “Englert, that’s it.”

“Do you have a first name for him?”

Mimi shook her head. “No, everything was such a blur—still is, really. I just want to find Ben and learn the truth. I can’t get any sort of closure until I know.”

“Did you talk with this Dr. Englert?”

“Yes. He’s the one who told me Charlie had died.” She wrung her hands in her lap. “He told me the cause of death was acute respiratory and cardiac failure.”

“Did you actually see your husband?” Jay asked.

Mimi nodded, her eyes glazing over with unshed tears. “Yes, I kissed him goodbye.”

Peter felt his way carefully. “Has anyone talked to you about the results of an autopsy?”

The Value of Valor

“I got a call from Bethesda’s medical examiner a little while ago. The examination confirmed that Charlie died of acute respiratory and cardiac failure.”

“Did the medical examiner say what caused the failures?”

“He babbled on about some previously existing heart condition that must have gone undiagnosed.”

“Did he talk about any pathology results?”

“No, should he have?”

“Mrs. Hyland, what were the president’s wishes regarding his burial?”

“He was to be cremated. In fact, the medical examiner said the procedure had already been taken care of in advance of tomorrow’s funeral.”

“That’s handy,” Peter muttered under his breath.

“Peter, can you find Dr. Conrad for me?”

“I can certainly try.”

“I’d really appreciate it.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind watching Fred for a little while?”

“As I told you on the phone when you called, I used to raise golden retrievers—he’s beautiful and a welcome distraction at the moment.

Thank you for loaning him to me.”

As if to underscore that he knew he was being talked about, Fred returned from his exploration of the house and sat on Jay’s foot, demanding to be petted.

“Fred, you be a good boy.” Jay leaned over and hugged the dog tightly. He rotated his head and licked her on the ear.

“We’re going to be just fine, aren’t we, Fred?” the former first lady asked. Fred wagged his tail in answer.

When Peter and Jay were back in the car, Jay asked, “What do you think of what she had to say?”

“I think the ME could be on the Commission’s payroll.”

“Sounds like it.”

“I also think cremating the body before anyone else can conduct an independent investigation is awfully convenient.”

“Mmm hmm,” Jay agreed. “I don’t know about you, but I want to know what happened to Dr. Conrad, and I want to know a hell of a lot more about this Dr. Englert, too.”

“Exactly my thinking and precisely what I’m going to focus on after I drop you off at the airport.” Peter pulled away from the curb and pointed the car in the direction of National Airport.

“Wish I could help you dig, but I’ve got a very important date.” Jay’s stomach did a flip even as she thought about seeing Kate. With any luck, in less than twenty-four hours, they would be together again.

Lynn Ames

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

ate walked along the beach, her toes digging into the black sand.

K She breathed in deeply, enjoying the peace and quiet of this idyllic spot just thirty minutes outside of Auckland. Years earlier, when she’d first fallen in love with the idea of visiting New Zealand, she’d researched possible itineraries. Bethell’s Beach had been on the top of her list of spots to visit on the North Island.

As she’d driven from Auckland, checking her mirrors frequently, she’d kept her eye on one car in particular. It had stayed with her all the way through the city and beyond, but it had kept going when she’d made the turn off onto Te Henga Road.

She’d chosen the Bethell’s Beach Cottages not only because they were beautiful, but because they sat atop a mountain—anyone coming or going from the area would be clearly visible long before they reached her. The path from the cottages down to the beach below was not marked, slightly overgrown, and hard to find if you didn’t know it was there. That also suited Kate just fine.

She stretched, taking in a lungful of clean ocean air. I could’ve pickeda worse spot to hide.

Steven pointed at the detailed map of Denver on the wall of the cramped hotel suite. “We know that Kyle used her ATM card at that machine right there.” He placed a colored pushpin at the intersection where the ATM was located. “We also know that her friend Dr. Jones checked into this hotel just an hour ago.” He placed another, different colored pin less than two blocks away from the ATM.

The door to the suite swung open, and the Viper strode in; he could hear Steven’s booming voice from all the way down the hall. Everyone in the room snapped to attention. “What I know is that you haven’t delivered Kyle—not only that, but you don’t have a clue where she is.”

“We’re getting closer, sir.”

“Really? Then why is it that you didn’t know that Dr. Jones is no longer at the hotel and that Kyle was never in Denver?”

“Sir?” Beads of sweat broke out on Steven’s forehead.

“Somebody sent us on a wild goose chase.”

The Value of Valor

“How do you know that, sir, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Contacts inside Kyle’s bank assure us that no money has left her account in the past week. Someone must have simulated the transactions to throw us off the trail.”

Lorraine glared at Steven; if he had listened to her in the first place, they might have captured Kyle already. He did not look at her. “Sir,” she addressed the Viper, “you said Dr. Jones is no longer at the hotel.”

“That’s right. She checked out less than forty-five minutes after checking in.”

“But, sir,” Steven chimed in, “one of our agents is on site in the lobby. She hasn’t come down from her room.”

“Our trace on her credit cards showed that she checked out. A call to the front desk confirmed it.”

Steven swallowed hard. This was not good. “I’ll get somebody on it right away, sir.”

“You do that.” The Viper planted his hands on the table and leaned forward. “Kyle has managed to elude us for five days—in that time, she might have been in touch with anyone. Certainly, someone arranged the ATM ruse for her. The only good news is that if she had enough information to go public, she would have done so already.”

“We’ll get her, sir.”

“If you could have, you would have; instead you’ve been chasing your tails,” the Viper boomed. “Since Kyle seems to have vanished from under your noses and her trail is cold, I want Dr. Jones. She obviously knows something since she conveniently showed up where the last bogus ATM transaction took place. Bring her to me. There is no room for failure.”

The silence in the suite after the Viper’s departure was deafening.

Red-faced at being embarrassed in front of his colleagues, Steven regrouped. “Okay. You go to the hotel and rendezvous with our man there.” He pointed to two of the agents who had followed Barbara from Washington. “Find out who saw her leave and where she went.”

“You two cover the airport.” He gestured to the other two agents who had been at the funeral. “Find out if she bought a ticket and what the destination is. If she only left forty-five minutes ago, she couldn’t have taken off yet.”

He dismissed the assigned agents. When they were gone, he looked at Lorraine and Paul. “We’re going to Albany to wait for the good doctor at her place. If she is going home, she won’t be able to get a direct flight; we can beat her there.”

“And if she’s not going home?” Lorraine asked.

Steven’s jaw muscles bunched. “We’ll hunt her down. She’s got no reason to think she’s a target, why wouldn’t she go home?”

Lynn Ames

“She obviously knew she was being watched. Why else would she fly out here?” Paul asked reasonably.

“Yes, but she probably thinks we’ll stay out here looking for Kyle.

She doesn’t know that we’ve already figured out that Kyle isn’t here.”

Lorraine said, “We’d better get going then.”

“Right.” Steven used his cell phone to dial the number of the Commission pilot who had flown them to Denver as they walked out the door. “We’re heading to Albany, New York. Fuel the plane and file the flight plan. We leave in half an hour.”

Barbara dropped her change into the pay phone and dialed the cell phone number her escort in Denver had given her for Peter. The phone was picked up on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“Peter, it’s Barbara.”

“Everything okay?”

“So far. Your friend picked me up and took me to the hotel where I checked in using my credit card. I checked out forty-five minutes later, he picked me up, and handed me a plane ticket back to Albany under an assumed name, along with a new driver’s license and credit cards.”

“Good. Where are you now?”

“At the airport waiting for the flight. They should be calling it any second. Want to tell me what all this was about?”

“You just helped confirm that Kate is in Denver.”

“Let me guess, Kate isn’t anywhere near here, right?”

“Right. You bought us more time. Thank you.”

“Any time. What are we going to do when they figure out they’ve been had?”

“I’m hoping it’ll take them a while longer. One step at a time. Do you think anyone followed you to the airport?”

“No. Your friend was quite competent. He managed to distract the one agent in the lobby while I went out a side exit.”

“Good. Barbara?”

“Yes?” She could hear his hesitation.

“Never mind, I’ll tell you when you get home.”

“O-okay. Well, they’re calling my flight. I’d better go.”

“Stay safe. I’ll call you tonight to check in.”

“Right. See you, Peter.”

Peter hung up the phone, holding it to his chin thoughtfully. He wanted to tell Barbara about Jay, but instinct told him to wait. He felt badly because he knew she’d be upset with him when she found out, but he’d have to deal with that later.

The Value of Valor

He opened the car door and got out, checking the house number again. He rang the doorbell and waited. It was several moments before he heard footsteps shuffling inside.

“May I help you?” a muffled voice asked through the door.

“Mrs. Conrad? I’m Peter Enright, a friend of President and Mrs.

Hyland.”

“Oh, dear. Do come in.” Mrs. Conrad, a frail-looking elderly woman, opened the door to admit Peter.

He noticed that she clutched some used tissues; her face looked red and puffy. “I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am. I’m looking for your husband. Mrs. Hyland sent me; she’s a little worried.” His voice trailed off as Mrs. Conrad began to sob uncontrollably.

“I-I’m s-sorry; I can’t seem to stop myself.”

Peter waited for her to gather herself. “It’s okay, ma’am. Take your time.”

“Y-you’re a dear. C-come in and sit down, please.” She motioned for him to follow her.

When they were seated in the living room, Mrs. Conrad said, “I’ve just had a visit from the police. They found Ben. H-he’s dead.” She began to cry again.

Peter went in search of ice water. “Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.”

“Thank you. You’re very kind.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

She nodded, blowing her nose loudly. “Ben went to the hospital like he always did—it was the day the president died. I called him on the phone when I saw on television that the president had collapsed. Ben said he couldn’t talk because he was on his way to the emergency room to meet the ambulance.” She looked up at Peter, agony etched in her face.

“That’s the last time I saw or heard from him.”

“What did you do when he didn’t come home that night, Mrs.

Conrad?” Peter asked gently.

“I called the hospital to see where he was. They told me he’d been called away.”

“Did that seem likely to you?”

“No.” She shook her head vehemently. “Ben would never have left knowing the president was in trouble.”

“Okay. What happened next?”

“When Ben still wasn’t home hours later, I got worried. So I went to the hospital. No one could tell me where he was. His car was still parked in its normal space, and his keys and briefcase were in his office. It was very odd.”

“Did anyone try to stop you from going in his office?”

Lynn Ames

“No. Anyway, I went home and called the police.”

“They came to the house?”

“Yes, they came and took my statement and filed a missing person’s report.” She sniffled. “That was the last I heard from them until today.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Conrad. What did the police tell you about your husband’s death?”

“They said…” she stumbled over the words, “…they said he apparently overdosed on d-drugs.” She began rocking back and forth.

“My husband has never touched more than an aspirin in his entire life.”

She looked at Peter beseechingly. “Not my Ben, it couldn’t be.”

“I’m sure you’re right. Where did they find him? Did they tell you?”

“Rock Creek Park.”

“Well, I’ve taken up enough of your time. I’m so sorry to have bothered you.”

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess.” She blew her nose again as she rose.

“It’s perfectly understandable. You take care of yourself.” Peter let himself out the front door.

He narrowed his eyes as he got behind the wheel of his car. He needed to have a chat with Dr. Englert; he also needed to call Mimi Hyland and inform her of Dr. Conrad’s death. Somehow he had to convince her to leave the investigation to him—he suspected any more questions from her might garner her some rather unpleasant attention.

The last thing he needed on his plate was to have to worry about her safety, too.

“How is the patient doing?” Wayne Grayson asked as he sat behind his desk facing Dr. Englert.

“As specified, he is conscious but completely immobilized.”

“Does he know where he is?”

“I doubt it.”

“Does he know what’s happened to him?”

“As you requested, no one has talked to him. The only contact he has with anyone occurs when he’s turned to prevent bedsores and skin breakdown. Otherwise, he’s aware when his IV is being changed and when his vital signs are being taken.”

“Good.”

“I take it we are to continue under those instructions?”

“Yes, for now.” Grayson had considered simply questioning Hyland and disposing of him permanently, but the truth was, he was enjoying the man’s suffering. He rocked back in his chair. “It’s a shame about Dr.

Conrad. I understand the police found him dead of an overdose in Rock Creek Park.” He watched Englert’s hands as they trembled slightly.

“Such a waste, don’t you think?”

The Value of Valor

Dr. Englert ran his fingers under his shirt collar—he had never been told that Conrad was to be killed—just that he was to be detained so he wouldn’t be in the way. “Yes. Ben was a fine physician.”

“It’s a tough, unforgiving world out there. You ought to be careful, Jonathan; we wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

Englert’s voice failed, so he merely nodded as he rose to leave.

When he was gone, Grayson flipped on the television. CNN was carrying live coverage of the special session of the United States Senate.

He smiled in satisfaction; with the exception of the troublesome Kyle woman, everything was going exactly according to plan.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the Senate, it is with a heavy heart that I have called you together for this extraordinary session,” President Wheeler began. “Tomorrow we will lay to rest a great man—a true visionary. Charles Hyland was a giant, and filling his shoes will be no small task.

“I am determined, however, to carry on his legacy—to fulfill the promise of this administration. It is imperative in this time of turmoil and grief that we, as leaders of this great democracy, work together. We must act swiftly and decisively, lest our enemies think us weak.

“I have given much thought and consideration to the next step I must take as your president. The Constitution makes provision, in these unusual circumstances, for the new president to nominate a vice president who shall then be confirmed by this body.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the Senate, I present to you the nominee for the position of vice president of these United States, Robert Hawthorne.”

He waited for the applause to die down.

“In selecting Bob, I have chosen a man who has held elective office, has a strong background in foreign affairs, and who along with me will be an able steward of this country.

“I urge you—no, I implore you—to act quickly to confirm Chairman Hawthorne so that we may move forward with the serious business of running this country. Thank you very much.”

Wheeler looked out at the assembled senators, knowing beyond question that they would quickly approve Hawthorne as vice president.

The president basked momentarily in the glow of his victory before his gaze fell upon his nominee. This was not the way he had dreamed of becoming president.

“Hawthorne.”

“Dad?”

“Emily? Is that you, sweetheart?” His heart constricted, her voice sounded so fragile.

Lynn Ames

“Yeah. I saw you on television being sworn in. Totally awesome.”

“Thanks, honey. Are you okay?”

“Sure, Dad. Well, I just wanted to tell you I saw you.”

“Where are you, Em?”

“It doesn’t matter, Dad. Don’t worry.”

“Emily, if you need anything…”

“Dad, I’m fine, really. I’ve got to go. Bye.”

He dropped his head into his hands.

“She’s fine for the moment, I assure you.”

Hawthorne’s head snapped up at the sound of Grayson’s voice.

“Where is she?”

“Safe and staying out of trouble—for now.”

“If you so much as harm a hair on her head…”

“Now, now, Robert. It is unbecoming for the vice president of the United States to threaten a scion of the business world.” Grayson’s eyes were cold and hard.

“What do you want?” Hawthorne asked through clenched teeth.

“I just wanted to say congratulations and to wish you well, Robert. I know you’re going to make a great vice president—the president and the Senate chose wisely.”

“Cut the bullshit.”

“Very well. I came to make sure you understand what needs to happen.”

“I get it. You don’t need to worry.”

“That’s good. Very good. I’m sure Emily appreciates your competence.”

“I’ll do what needs to be done. Leave my daughter out of this.”

“I sincerely hope we can,” Grayson said as the cell phone in his briefcase rang. “Grayson.” He listened for a moment, then said, “All right. Let me know when you have her.” He turned the phone off and stored it once again in his briefcase. “We’ll be in touch, Robert.”

Barbara inserted her key into the front door and shouldered it open; she was exhausted. Before she could flip on the light switch, a male voice said, “Don’t touch it. Move into the room slowly. Don’t try anything. I can see every move you make.”

Barbara’s heart beat wildly. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“We want to talk to you, Dr. Jones,” a female voice said.

“You could try calling me on the phone or making an appointment.”

“Very cute. We might have, but it seems you’ve been a busy little traveler today.”

Barbara’s eyes went wide in fear. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The Value of Valor

“No? Washington to Denver, Denver to Albany. I’d say that’s a pretty full day, wouldn’t you?”

Barbara said nothing, her mind racing as she tried to think of a way out of the situation.

“What took you to Denver, Doctor?”

“Surely, it wasn’t a ski vacation—you didn’t even stay long enough to get a weather report.”

Barbara’s head swiveled back and forth as she tried to see the faces behind the voices—two male and one female. “I had to see a patient.”

“The patient was staying at the Hilton?” the second male voice queried.

“No.” She felt a cold sweat trickle down her back. “The patient was at the hospital. I thought I would have to stay overnight, so I checked into the Hilton. As it turned out, I was able to take care of the problem in short order and return home.”

“Quick thinking, Doctor. We applaud your inventiveness. But we’re tired of this game. Tell us what we want to know, and we’ll be on our way.”

Barbara bit her lip determinedly. “I have no idea what it is you want to know.” Before she could finish the sentence, she felt the cold, steel barrel of a gun against the side of her neck.

“Where is Katherine Kyle, Dr. Jones?” the first man asked in her ear.

“Her ashes were buried this morning.” Barbara’s arm was bent roughly behind her back; she gritted her teeth, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of making her scream.

“I’m going to ask you one more time. Where is your friend?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.” A hand flitted across her field of vision just before she felt the blow to her cheekbone.

“Killing her won’t get us the information we need,” Lorraine said.

“No, but roughing her up a bit might make her a little less sassy and a lot more cooperative,” Steven answered. “Where is the bitch?”

“I’m telling you—I don’t know,” Barbara panted, as another fist rained down on her face.

“Enough of this, let’s get her out of here,” Paul said. “The Viper can get the information out of her.”

The last thing Barbara heard as she was dragged from her home was the ringing of the phone. She prayed it was Peter and that he would come for her.

Peter let the phone ring again. He’d tried Barbara’s number a half-dozen times already. He’d even called the airline—they’d confirmed that her flight had landed more than two hours earlier. His gut started to twitch.

Lynn Ames

He hung up and dialed another number.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Max,” Peter greeted his friend, Max Kingston, head of the DOCS Certified Emergency Response Team.

“Long time no talk, boss. Heck, the last time I saw you, we were rescuing Kate out at Attica. I’m so sorry to hear about her, by the way.”

Peter ignored the condolences, a fact he knew wouldn’t be lost on Max. “Sorry, I know I’ve been scarce. Listen, I need a favor.”

“Anything.”

“I need you to run over and check on a friend of mine. She was supposed to be home more than an hour ago, and I’m worried.”

“You got it.”

“Max?”

“Yeah?”

“Bring some firepower with you.”

“Trouble?”

“Maybe. Be careful. Got a pen and paper? I’ll give you the address and my phone number. Call me as soon as you know anything.”

“Affirmative.”

“Thanks.” Peter severed the connection and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut.

Jay sat in the first-class section on the 10:10 p.m. flight from Los Angeles to Auckland. She’d been trying to sleep for at least two hours, with no success. All she could think about was that Kate was alive and that they would be together again in a matter of hours. It didn’t seem possible. The whole situation was so surreal that she had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Butterflies twittered in her stomach—

she felt like a giddy schoolgirl.

She wished she could have called Terri to tell her the wonderful news, but she knew she couldn’t—not until Kate was safe again. More than anything, Jay wanted to relieve Terri of the guilt she knew the healer was carrying. She wondered if she would ever get to introduce them to each other. She knew Kate would love Terri as much as she did.

What would Trystan think of Kate? Would she even want to meet her? And what would Kate make of Trystan? Would introducing them be a mistake? Jay felt laughter bubble up from within. Just days earlier, contemplating such a meeting had been pointless—yet here she was worrying about it. She decided she would gladly deal with the issue when the time came.

Smiling, she pulled up the airplane blanket, fluffed the tiny pillow, and closed her eyes.

The Value of Valor

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

nright.”

“E “It’s Max.”

“What did you find?” Peter braced himself.

“Nobody’s here; the door was wide open. Looks like your friend didn’t go willingly. An end table was kicked over, and from the way the rug is laying, I’d say somebody got dragged out.”

“Shit.” Peter closed his eyes and took a deep breath, pounding his fist on his leg; this was his fault—he should have seen it coming. He consciously slowed his breathing and tried to stay focused—he couldn’t think about any of that now—all that mattered was getting Barbara back safely. If the Commission took her, it was because they were out of leads on Kate and needed more information. They would keep her alive until they were sure they had everything she knew—which was exactly nothing. Barbara would no doubt stall as long as she could, but Peter suspected it wouldn’t take long before the Commission would figure out that she was useless to them. His heart lurched. When that happened, they would kill her.

“Listen, boss,” Max broke into his thoughts, “I’m due for some time off. I was thinking now might be a good time to take it. What do you think?”

Peter breathed a sigh of relief—having reinforcements would help significantly. “I think that sounds like a great idea. How do you feel about visiting the nation’s capital?”

“Sounds great. Tell me where to meet you and I’ll be there by morning.”

“Hello?”

“Kate?”

Kate smiled into the phone. “Peter?”

“Yep. Did you find everything okay?”

“Yes, it was just as you said it would be. Thank you.” She tried to convey all her gratitude in those two words. “Are you all right?” The connection was a little tenuous, and she wondered if that was why his voice sounded strained.

Lynn Ames

“Dandy.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re being less than truthful?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

She narrowed her eyes at the evasion. “Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Peter…”

“Your trail is cold for the moment.”

She noted the abrupt change of subject but chose to ignore it. “That’s good, right?”

“Yes. I think it’ll be a while before they figure it out.”

“Should I stay put then?”

“Yes. Where exactly are you?”

“You want me to tell you?”

“Yes, in case my guy needs to find you.”

“I’m thirty miles outside Auckland in a beautiful little place.” She looked around at the sweeping vistas and the glistening waves below.

“The Kiwi name for it is Te Henga. We Yanks call it Bethell’s Beach.

I’m staying at the cottages on the top of the hill.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It is. Are we any closer to exposing the bastards?”

“Yes and no.”

“That sounds cryptic.” She tried but failed to hide her irritation at his lack of candor.

“Sorry. Seems they killed the president’s personal physician to get their own doctor in there. I’m trying to get a line on him now.”

“Okay.”

“The medical examiner seems to be part of the conspiracy, too. He told Mrs. Hyland that her husband must have had some previously undiagnosed heart condition. He didn’t say anything about pathology results, and he cremated the body before anyone else could get a look.”

“Lovely.” She closed her eyes and winced—without any solid evidence on the cause of the president’s death, they might never be able to prove what really happened. Her heart sank. She might never be safe again.

“Oh, and in case you didn’t hear, Hawthorne was confirmed as vice president today.”

“It just gets better and better, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah. Listen, stay put and stay safe, okay? I’ll call you again soon.”

“Okay, Technowiz. Be careful out there.” She was reluctant to sever the connection.

“Always.”

The Value of Valor

She held the phone in her hand long after Peter had hung up. She knew him so well; she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something he wasn’t telling her. It made her already bleak mood even darker.

Even though she hadn’t had more than three hours sleep, Jay was wired. She tried to sit still with little success as she and Kevin bounced along a treacherous stretch of road that wound along steep cliffs. For a moment, she flashed back to the cliffs near Chinle and shuddered—panic threatening to overtake her.

“You okay, love?”

“Fine, thanks,” Jay yelled to be heard over the whistling of the wind in the Jeep. “I’m not crazy about heights, that’s all.” His excessive speed and the fact that he was driving on the opposite side of the road from what she was used to wasn’t helping matters, but Jay decided not to mention those things. She tried closing her eyes, but that only made things worse. “Are we almost there?”

“Have you there in a jiff, sweetheart.”

A “jiff” turned out to be slightly longer than Jay anticipated, but she didn’t care. When Kevin dropped her off in the beach parking lot at her request, Jay felt like she could walk on air. The butterflies returned, and she wiped her slick palms on her shorts, a little surprised at herself for the attack of nerves.

She removed her sneakers, shoving them into the backpack Kevin had purchased and stocked for her, and ran the quarter mile to the sand. She was surprised to see that the beach seemed to be completely deserted, despite the fact that it was midday in the New Zealand summertime.

Jay began walking next to the water’s edge, heading toward the opposite end of the beach; she wasn’t quite sure where or how she would find Kate. She wondered if she had made a mistake in coming directly to the beach. What if she wasn’t here? Jay bit her lip, taking a deep breath to calm herself. She knew her lover—Kate would never pass up an opportunity to enjoy the sun, water, and sand, especially not in a place as close to paradise as this.

As she was mulling this over, Jay caught movement in her peripheral vision. A figure was emerging from the water some two hundred yards down the beach. Jay began to run.

From a distance, Kate saw someone running toward her. She froze for a moment. Hadn’t Peter said it would be a while before the Commission found her? She ran toward her backpack, which she had stowed behind some rocks just on the high side of a large cave.

Lynn Ames

When Kate reached the pack, the figure was less than a hundred yards away. She fumbled in the pack for the gun, diving behind the largest rock for cover, her heart hammering in her chest. As the figure continued to run toward her, Kate steadied the gun on top of the rock and sighted down the barrel.

“Don’t come any closer or I’ll shoot,” Kate yelled, willing her voice not to crack. Her palms were sweating, and adrenaline coursed through her body; she’d never had to fire at anyone before, although she’d been to a shooting range once or twice over the years with Peter.

Kate’s voice carried on the cool ocean breeze, the tension and fear in it clear to Jay, even from so far away. It broke her heart. She stopped in her tracks, slipped the backpack off, and threw it to the side. She put her hands up and waited, her mind willing Kate to recognize her and realize that she meant her no harm.

“Walk this way slowly and keep your hands where I can see them.”

Kate watched warily, her body humming, as the figure slowly resolved itself into a woman. She felt a momentary jolt of shock. Would the Commission have sent a woman after her? Why not? When the woman was still too far away to distinguish her features, Kate called, “Stop there.

On your face and keep your hands behind your head. If you try anything, I swear to God I’ll blow your brains out.” Her hands shook; she was grateful that the woman was too far away to see.

Tears streamed down Jay’s face as she felt Kate’s terror mingle with her own. “It’s me, Kate,” she entreated silently, willing her lover to hear her. “Please, put the gun down.” She dropped to her knees, then lay down the rest of the way, resting her chin on the sand. Oh, Kate. Look whatthey’ve done to you.

Kate was torn. She wanted to go out and secure the woman, but what if she was just a decoy? What if someone else was waiting out of sight to take her out? She looked around, taking care to keep the woman in her peripheral vision at all times. She saw nothing and no one out of place.

She took a deep breath and came out from behind her shelter, moving swiftly toward the prone figure, taking care not to approach her head on.

Jay’s body began to tremble as she watched Kate make a wide berth around her to come up from behind. Finally, when Kate was directly behind her and she could see no more, Jay closed her eyes tightly and began to cry harder. She had never been afraid of Kate until this moment, and she hated herself for it.

Kate saw the woman’s shoulders shake, noted the short, blonde hair, and wondered if the Commission had paid an unwitting Jay look-alike to flush her out. Kate was determined that she wouldn’t fall for the trick; she stopped several feet behind the woman. “Not a word. On your knees The Value of Valor

again; turn around slowly with your hands behind your head where I can see them. If you try anything, I’ll kill you before you have time to blink.”

Although it was difficult to get to her knees with her hands behind her head, Jay struggled to comply. Eventually, she managed, turning her trembling body and tear-streaked visage to face her lover.

When Kate saw that face—those eyes—she began to swoon. Her body listed slightly before she managed to regain her balance. “You can’t fool me,” she said hoarsely, as tears clouded her vision. “I know what you’re trying to do. I won’t fall for it. Jay is dead. She’s dead,” she finished in a broken whisper.

Although she knew she was risking her life, Jay swallowed hard and found her voice—her heart demanded no less. “Kate, sweetheart, it’s me.

I swear to you, it is. Peter sent me—you talked to him this morning. He had Kevin pick me up at the airport and bring me here.” She looked deeply into her lover’s bloodshot eyes.

Kate shook her head.

“Please, honey, put the gun down. You’re scaring me,” Jay pleaded.

“You’re lying. You can’t be Jay.” Kate summoned all her willpower not to succumb—not to let down her guard—when she so desperately wanted to believe that it could be true.

“I am, sweetheart. I’m sorry it took me so long to come home. The accident caused traumatic amnesia, and I—” Jay’s voice cracked. “I didn’t know who I was for a long time.”

Kate continued to shake her head, her right hand weakly grasping the gun. “It’s a trick.”

“No tricks, Kate. Just me, and I love you so, so much. Please, honey.

Put the gun down.”

Kate wiped away the tears that blinded her with her left hand and looked hard at the woman in front of her on her knees, unable to believe that it really could be Jay. “Anybody could know the things you just told me.”

Jay thought desperately, her mind and heart searching for something, anything, to convince Kate of the truth. In a rush, Jay said, “The morning I left for Arizona, we made love. I got up afterward to take a shower, thinking you’d gone back to sleep. You surprised me by joining me in the shower, and you made love to me again with your mouth. I told you I wished you were coming with me…”

Jay didn’t get to finish the thought as Kate dropped the gun and flew the last few feet that separated them, landing on her knees facing Jay, unable to maintain the distance any longer.

Kate reached out tentatively, running a fingertip over Jay’s cheekbone and around her jaw. “I-I can’t, you can’t…” Her body felt numb.

Lynn Ames

“Shh.” Jay leaned forward, framing Kate’s face in her hands and kissing her softly on the mouth, the feel of Kate’s lips against hers making her heart skip a beat.

For a long time, the two women simply knelt there, hands clasped lightly, staring into each other’s eyes. The enormity of the moment was too overwhelming for words.

Finally, Jay broke the spell. “I love you so much, Kate. I never thought I’d get to see you again. When CNN said you were dead and that it was my fault…”

The words snapped Kate out of her stupor. “Your fault? What are you talking about?” Kate captured one of Jay’s tears reverently on the tip of her finger.

Jay saw the light return to Kate’s eyes, and her heart lifted. “They said you were distraught over my death, and that was part of the reason you committed suicide.”

“Oh, Jay. Never. Never, you hear me?” She shook Jay’s shoulders lightly.

Jay nodded, glad to have her instincts confirmed.

“You know I would never kill myself. Suicide is a selfish, cowardly act—to do that would have dishonored your memory.”

“I know, but—oh, Kate.” Jay’s body continued to tremble, and Kate wrapped her in a warm embrace. In a hollow voice, Jay said, “When I heard that you were dead, the pain was unbearable. I thought I could almost understand why you would’ve taken your life rather than live with the suffering.”

“Oh, baby.” Kate pulled Jay into her lap and rocked her.

Neither one of them had any idea how long they sat there like that, trying to comprehend what was happening.

Eventually, Jay shifted her weight subtly. The new position sent shockwaves through Kate. The feel of Jay’s body against hers rekindled a fire that Kate had thought permanently extinguished. She closed her eyes as a wave of pure desire swamped her senses. She pressed her lips to the hollow of Jay’s throat, then the side of her neck, and finally the sensitive edges of her ear.

Jay gasped, a desperate moan escaping her lips. “I’ve missed you so much.” She threw her head back to give Kate better access.

The sight of Jay’s head thrown back, the sounds of her need, drove Kate’s hunger to a fever pitch. Her body began to shake with the effort of reining herself in. For a fleeting moment, she didn’t want to control the passion—she wanted to ravish Jay with abandon—but the scars of loss and grief were still too raw. She wondered if they always would be.

Softly, Kate ran her tongue and lips along Jay’s pulse point, nipping and licking as she went. This time when Jay trembled, she knew it wasn’t The Value of Valor

from fear. Gently, she lay Jay down on the sand, her mouth seeking the warmth of tender skin, her mind urging restraint even as her body demanded her lover.

Deftly, she removed Jay’s shirt and bra, her lips craving the taste of sweet breasts and tender nipples. She sighed with joy as she felt the softness turn hard under the ministrations of her tongue and mouth.

When Jay’s hips rose in supplication, Kate’s fingers answered the call, dipping inside her lover’s shorts to explore exquisite folds and crevices that were uniquely Jay.

Within seconds, Jay levitated off the sand, her cries of relief and release rising and falling with the crashing waves.

As Jay recovered, Kate lay there, trying to reconcile what had just happened with her need to protect her grieving heart.

Before she could say a word, Jay reversed their positions, her mouth and hands desperate to touch, taste, and tantalize. Kate gasped, her body compelled to respond to this woman who meant more than anything in the world to her.

Jay licked the ocean salt from Kate’s cleavage, her shaking hands finding and releasing the clasp at the back of Kate’s bikini. She couldn’t ever remember feeling a greater sense of urgency.

Jay’s fingers played over her lover’s hardened nipples, thumbs and forefingers lightly pinching the sensitive skin. Her teeth grazed the flesh on Kate’s abdomen and pelvis, each point of contact eliciting a sensual moan that further fed her need to bring pleasure. Her senses were on overload, her emotions raw.

Jay ran her tongue up the inside of the long, muscular legs she loved so much, pausing to nip at particularly sensitive spots.

“Please, Jay. I need you so much,” Kate sobbed, in spite of herself.

The plea was all that was necessary to end the sweet torture. Jay’s mouth hovered over Kate’s center as she removed her bikini bottom. She slid her hands under Kate’s buttocks and lifted her legs over her shoulders, inhaling deeply her lover’s musky scent. Tears of gratitude coursed down her face, mingling with Kate’s wetness as she pressed the tip of her tongue against her clitoris.

Kate shuddered with pleasure at the delicate touch. “Jay,” she beseeched.

Jay filled Kate with her tongue, stroking, licking, and sucking until Kate’s scream pierced the air, her body growing rigid as the orgasm ripped through her.

When it was over, she pulled Jay on top of her, wrapping long arms around her and rocking them both as they cried.

Lynn Ames

Bright lights shone through Barbara’s swollen eyelids. Her head pounded and her whole body ached—she was fairly sure she had several broken ribs and a concussion. Briefly, she wondered if she might have ruptured her spleen. She could smell the scent of her own fear, but she hoped she was hiding it well. They had her sitting upright in a straight-backed chair with her hands secured behind her back and her legs shackled to the chair; the handcuffs were cutting into her wrists.

“I’m going to ask you one more time, Dr. Jones. Where is Katherine Kyle? Don’t tell me you don’t know—that’s a lie.” The Viper loomed over Barbara, his face a mask of menace.

Her nostrils flared with fear, but Barbara was determined to protect her friend and buy herself time. “What makes you think I would know anything? Katherine Kyle is a patient of mine, that’s all. Even if I did know, which I don’t, I wouldn’t tell you. Look, I don’t even know what it is you want with her.”

“Let’s review the facts, shall we, Doctor? You attended Ms. Kyle’s funeral; ran out of there like someone had set your shoes on fire; made a mad dash for the airport without any luggage; boarded a plane for Denver, which coincidentally just happens to be the last place Kyle’s ATM card was used; checked into a hotel; and checked out forty-five minutes later to catch a flight home. Rather odd behavior, wouldn’t you say? Why would you do that?”

“I told Gonzo over there—I had a patient in Denver who needed to be seen. It took less time than I anticipated, and I was able to get back home instead of staying overnight. I didn’t want to miss Ms. Kyle’s funeral, so I made it through the service before having to run, literally. What part of this doesn’t make sense to you?”

“It would all make sense to me, Doctor, if it were true.” He leaned over her so that his hot breath was on her face. “But it’s not. You know it and I know it. We will get the truth, Doctor. It’s just a question of how painful the process will be for you.” He emphasized the point by slamming her jaw with his open hand.

Barbara’s ears rang painfully; she wondered if her hearing would be permanently damaged. Assuming I ever make it out of here alive. She shot him her best hateful glare and spit out some blood. “I’m going to say this very slowly—I…don’t…know…where…Katherine…Kyle…is.”

“Get me the sodium pentothal,” the Viper ordered, preparing her arm for the injection.

“Truth serum is great,” Barbara offered as her pulse quickened and her heart turned over, “assuming there’s something to divulge. In this instance, since I don’t know anything, you’re wasting your time.”

The Value of Valor

“We’ll just see about that, won’t we?” He took the syringe Steven handed him and jabbed it into her vein.

She clenched her jaw shut to keep from screaming, all the while running through in her mind things she might divulge if she were not careful. Truth serum was a misnomer—as a doctor, she knew that. While the drug would act in a manner similar to forcing her to consume four or five alcoholic drinks, it would not necessarily result in her telling the truth. It would merely significantly lower her inhibitions. Did she know anything that would help them? Yes. If they asked the right question, would the drug loosen her tongue enough for her to tell them about Peter? It was a distinct possibility. She prayed she wouldn’t endanger him—he was Kate’s only ally.

“We’ll be back in a minute,” the Viper called, as he and the others left the room.

Barbara let her head fall forward as she groaned, praying she had the strength to fight the drug, hoping more than anything that Peter would come charging through the door.

Max and Peter sat in the living room of the new, fully furnished condo rented under the alias Walter Iso.

“Now you know everything I know.”

“Damn, boss. You always seem to wind up in the middle of the fun.

My life seems downright boring compared to yours.”

“Any time you want to join me in the consulting business, just say the word,” Peter offered. He was glad beyond measure to have a trusted ally on his side.

“Thanks,” Max laughed, “I think I’ll stick with boring for a while longer.”

“That’s what I figured.”

“Where do you want to start?” Max asked.

“The way I see it, we’ve got three items that need immediate attention.”

“Find Barbara,” Max said.

“That’s number one on my list at the moment,” Peter agreed. “We also need to pay a visit to the mysterious Dr. Englert. Maybe we can find something out on that end.”

“I imagine the third thing is keeping Kate safe.”

“Right.”

Max thought for a minute. “I could call a buddy of mine at the Albany County Airport. He’s a controller there—if whoever took Barbara got her out on a private plane as you suspect, he’d be able to help us.”

Lynn Ames

Peter nodded. “He could tell us if any private planes took off in our time frame.”

“Yes, and where they were headed. If you’re right in your hunch that they brought her here to D.C., he could confirm that. He could also give us the plane’s call number and who it’s registered to.”

“Good thinking. Get on it. While you’re doing that, I’m going to check in with my guy on the ground in New Zealand and make sure the package got delivered safely.”

Max smiled. “I do love a happy ending. I can’t imagine Kate’s face when she sees Jay.”

“I can.” Peter smiled just thinking about it.

Jay was sleeping peacefully, sprawled across the bed in the cottage where they had retreated to have some privacy. Kate wanted to nap, too, but she was too afraid that she would wake and Jay would be gone.

Kate rolled over and cupped Jay’s breast with shaking fingers; tears leaked slowly out of her eyes. She couldn’t keep herself from wanting her lover, but she was terrified of making herself vulnerable again. The agony of losing Jay was still so fresh. She knew her heart couldn’t stand going through that again.

Jay stirred, rolling over to face Kate, her fingers finding Kate’s silky hair. She sighed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“What is it, sweetheart?” Jay asked again, still in a state of semi-shock. Kate was really lying here with her. She closed her eyes and savored the moment.

Kate merely shook her head, unable to put words to the confusion she was feeling. She swallowed hard and closed her eyes tightly, but the panic stayed with her.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Jay whispered, “being here, together like this.” Slowly, carefully, she traced the outline of Kate’s strong face, first with her fingertips, then with her mouth. To feel those familiar features, to look into her lover’s eyes—it was almost too much.

Kate’s mind screamed for her to turn away—to run—but she couldn’t. Her body craved Jay’s touch.

Jay continued her reverent exploration, trailing gentle fingers down Kate’s neck and along the planes of her collarbone, again leaving kisses in the wake of her touch. When she came to Kate’s breasts, Jay rubbed her cheek against the softness before licking and biting the salty skin, reveling in, and moaning softly at, the exquisite taste.

Jay sighed. “To be able to be with you like this again…” Her voice failed her as she buried her face in Kate’s soft skin. How could she The Value of Valor

possibly convey everything Kate meant to her, what it felt like to be able to make love?

With her hands and mouth, she worshipped Kate, leaving no millimeter of skin unloved, until at last she arrived at her center. Jay’s hands shook slightly and her lips quivered as she brushed her thumbs and tongue over the sensitive folds. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, losing herself in the tastes and sensations that she had thought she’d never experience again.

Kate tried to resist the pull of her body—tried not to accept the love Jay was offering, but it was impossible. She surrendered to her need.

As Jay felt the first wave of Kate’s orgasm, her heart overflowed with joy and gratitude. “There are no words to tell you how much I love you, Kate,” she managed to say through her tears.

“You just did,” Kate said in a choked whisper, as she pulled Jay up into a tender embrace. “You just did.” Despite her best intentions, Kate felt her eyelids grow heavy. She fell into a fitful sleep.

Lynn Ames

CHAPTER NINETEEN

arbara felt disconnected from her body. She tried her best to stay B focused. She blinked slowly, her swollen eyelids making the process more difficult.

“All right, Dr. Jones, let’s try this again, shall we? How are you feeling?”

“Happy. It’s been a long time since I’ve been drunk. In fact, I can’t ever remember feeling quite this tipsy.” Oh, boy. I’m in trouble.

“That’s good. We want you to be happy. In fact, we’d like to share that euphoria with you.”

“That’s a laugh.”

“No, we truly would. You know, we admire you—you’re a gutsy lady.”

“Yeah?”

“That’s right. Not many women would stand up to us the way you have. You’ve got moxie.”

She giggled. “That’s what Peter always says.”

The Viper appeared instantly alert. “Peter?”

Barbara nodded. “Mmm hmm,” she said dreamily.

“Is he your boyfriend?”

“Who? Peter?” She laughed. “Not by a long shot.”

“Is he Kate’s boyfriend?”

This made Barbara laugh even harder. “Good heavens, no. Kate likes girls. Well, one girl in particular, but she’s gone now.”

“Jamison Parker?”

“Yes. Poor Jay. Poor Kate.”

“She’s lucky that she’s got friends like you and Peter to rely on.”

Barbara nodded. “We’re all lucky to have one another.”

“Sort of like the three musketeers, eh? All for one and one for all?”

“Yep, that’s us.”

“You’d do anything for each other, wouldn’t you?”

“Sure, that’s what friends do.”

“So then, you must know where Kate is.”

“Nope. Haven’t a clue.”

“You don’t?” The Viper’s tone was light.

The Value of Valor

“Nope.” She shook her head vehemently. “We decided it would be better if I didn’t know.”

“Who is ‘we’?”

“Ah, ah, ah.” She wagged her finger at him, leaning her head down to her cuffed hands and “zipping” her lips shut with the fingers on her other hand.

“I guess as long as Peter knows, everything will be fine.”

“Peter is a handy guy to have around,” Barbara said in a singsong voice. That’s it, Barbara. Don’t answer the question directly.

“Where is Peter, anyway?”

“Good question. Wish I knew,” Barbara slurred her words.

“Very well, Doctor. I think we know enough now to find Ms. Kyle.”

Barbara looked at him, her eyes going wide.

The smile the Viper gave her was altogether unpleasant. “Don’t go away,” he said, patting her cheek with his open hand.

She laughed as they walked away, grateful that the questions were over.

Steven said, “What do you mean we have enough to find Kyle? She didn’t tell us anything.”

“Yes, she did,” the Viper said. “She told us the key—Peter Enright.”

“She didn’t give you a last name.”

“She didn’t have to. She was with Enright at the funeral; we know he and Kyle are very close. He knows where she is. Not only that, but I’m willing to bet he’s the one responsible for the phony ATM transactions.”

“You got all that out of her gibberish?”

“Yep,” the Viper nodded in satisfaction.

“You want me to waste her? She’s useless now.”

“I’ll let you know shortly. In the meantime, watch her.”

The Viper left the room and walked next door, where he had set up a makeshift office. He sat down and dialed a phone number from memory.

“Grayson.”

“We’ve interrogated her.”

“Well, what do you have for me?”

“She doesn’t know anything, but she led us in the right direction.”

“Elaborate.”

“Peter Enright is the key—Kyle’s definitely been in touch with him.

If we can find him, we’ll have Kyle.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. She all but told us when we put her under.”

“Did she tell you where to find him?”

“No, she was very resistant—she either doesn’t know or wouldn’t tell us.”

Lynn Ames

“I see.”

“You want me to kill her?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “No. No, not yet. If we can’t find him ourselves, we may have to torture it out of her.”

“You want me to do that now?”

“No, let’s see what happens if we leave her alone for a bit. Who knows, maybe she’ll let down her guard. And if all else fails, we can always use her as bait.”

“Yes, sir. I do believe I might enjoy that.”

“I’ve got something.” Max hung up the phone and went in search of Peter.

“What is it?”

“You were right—a snazzy little private plane sat on the runway in Albany for a few hours late last night. The pilot never let the plane out of his sight, which some of the guys at the airport thought was odd—he didn’t even go into the Signature terminal for food. All of a sudden, he’s in a real rush—files a hasty flight plan to D.C. A dark sedan pulls up, the passengers are loaded, and they take off. All within our time frame.”

“Your buddy does good work.”

“That’s not all,” Max boasted.

“Oh?”

“He ran the registration; guess who owns the bird?”

“Grayson Enterprises.”

“Hey, no fair. How’d you know that?”

“Call it a hunch,” Peter said, winking.

“Now what?”

“Good question.” Peter began to pace. “D.C.’s a big place. I suppose we should start by taking a look at what kind of properties Grayson has in the area.” He moved to the phone and dialed Gustav’s number.

“Pietro, you are going to have to start paying me, no?”

“Your payment is your freedom, my friend. But,” Peter continued over Gustav’s grumbling, “if you come through this time, there might be some cash in it for you.”

“That’s more like it. Tell me again what you want.”

“Any properties owned by Grayson Enterprises or Wayne Grayson in the D.C. area. Also, I’d like to see who’s on his payroll.”

Gustav muttered to himself for several seconds before saying, “Okay.

Give me an hour.”

“An hour? You’re slowing down in your old age.”

“Insulting me will not make me work any faster, Pietro.” He hung up.

Peter turned to Max. “We’ve got an hour to kill. Perhaps we ought to see if we can track down the elusive Dr. Englert.”

The Value of Valor

“I’m game.”

“Let’s go.”

Jonathan Englert finished reviewing the patient’s chart. He issued a series of instructions, signed some forms, and exited the treatment area as his beeper went off. He looked at the number and frowned, heading down the hall to find a phone.

“I thought I told you I was not to be disturbed.”

“You did, Doctor, but I thought you’d want to know…”

“Want to know what?” he snapped.

“Two men were just here looking for you. They asked a lot of questions.”

Englert began to perspire. “What kind of questions?”

“Where you were, when you were in the office last, what type of patients you typically saw, how long you’d been with the hospital…stuff like that.”

“What’d you tell them?” His voice was tight.

“Nothing. I told them you were a very busy man and that at the moment, you were doing rounds.”

“That’s good. What did they look like?”

“Oh, they were both very good-looking—tall and handsome.”

Englert rolled his eyes. “Where are they now?”

“I don’t know. They left after I told them you were doing rounds.”

“Okay. Let me know if they come back.” He hung up. Who would be asking questions? Were they cops? Should he tell Grayson? If they were cops, it would almost be a relief—at least he knew they wouldn’t kill him. He thought of his last meeting with Grayson and shivered. No, he wouldn’t tell Grayson for now.

“We start in Albany with his house,” Steven said.

“You think with all this going on, Enright’s going to be sitting at home eating bon bons?” Lorraine asked.

“No, but he has to be operating from a base. Since we don’t have anything else at the moment, we start there and see what we can find.”

“What about her?” Paul motioned to Barbara, who still sat shackled to the chair, her chin lolling forward onto her chest.

“Lock her in the supply closet,” Steven ordered.

“You can’t do that—she’ll suffocate in there.”

“What—are you getting soft?”

“No,” Lorraine replied. “Our instructions were clear—keep her alive and treat her better.”

“Fine.” He waved dismissively. “You got a better spot for her, put her there.”

Lynn Ames

Lorraine walked over to where Barbara sat. “Give me the keys to these,” she barked at Steven, indicating the leg irons and handcuffs.

He threw them at her; Lorraine snatched them effortlessly out of midair. She unlocked the shackles and handcuffs, recuffing Barbara’s hands behind her back once she stood up.

“W-where are you taking me?” Barbara was still a bit woozy from the sodium pentothal.

Lorraine jerked once on the handcuffs. “Don’t try anything.”

Barbara laughed derisively. “As if I could right now.”

“Can you walk?” Lorraine asked gruffly.

“I think so.” Barbara tried to move her stiff, aching legs. The best she could manage was a shuffle.

“This way.” Lorraine led her to the bathroom. “Better go now. This may be your only opportunity.”

Barbara looked up at her captor. Even through the fog of the drugs, it seemed an oddly compassionate gesture. “I need help.” She moved her shoulder to indicate that she couldn’t reach to unzip her pants.

“Make one funny move and I’ll blow your head off,” Lorraine said, as she unlocked Barbara’s hands and recuffed them in front of her.

Barbara maneuvered her hands as best she could, unzipping her pants and pulling them down along with her underwear. Awkwardly, she sat on the toilet seat and peed. “Thank you,” she said, looking up at Lorraine, who wore a stoic expression.

“Hurry up.”

When Barbara was done and had rezipped her pants, Lorraine undid the cuffs once more and repositioned Barbara’s hands behind her back.

“Let’s move.”

“Where are we going?”

Lorraine yanked Barbara’s left arm and pulled her roughly down the hall to an empty room. “This is your new home for now.”

“It could use some redecorating.”

Lorraine pushed her inside and locked the door from the outside. As she walked away, she could hear the thud as Barbara fell against the wall.

“She’s secure,” she said to Steven and Paul as she rejoined them.

“Okay, let’s go,” Steven said.

Kate and Jay strolled along the black sand beach holding hands as the sun made its descent over the ocean. The water, as it reflected the sun’s glow, looked as though it was on fire.

Jay was worried. Kate had been so quiet. “It’s so beautiful here,” she said, trying to make conversation.

“Yes, it is. The first day I got here, I walked like this for about five strides before I sat down and cried.”

The Value of Valor

Jay tightened her grip on Kate’s hand and stopped walking. “Why?”

“Because this was a place I wanted to experience with you, like so many others, and I knew I was never going to get the chance.”

“I’m so sorry, Kate.”

“Don’t.” Kate’s voice was thick with emotion—she didn’t think she could hold it together anymore.

“I have to.” Jay tugged on Kate’s hand and started to walk again, wondering if she was beginning to see the problem. “I feel like I cheated you out of time—like because of me you lost something vital that you can never regain.”

“I did lose something vital, Jay—I lost you, and when I did, I lost the best part of me.”

“And now?” Jay asked, biting her lower lip.

Kate shrugged. “Here we are, together again.”

“But?” Jay pressed on, knowing that if they didn’t address what they’d each been through and what it had done to them, this emotional chasm would always be between them.

Kate brought them up short and turned to face Jay—it was time to face the music—she owed her lover that much. “But I’m terrified.” Her voice trembled as tears soaked her lashes. “I can’t go through that again—I can’t lose you.” Her breath came in short gasps.

“You won’t, love.”

“You can’t promise that, Jay. You can’t. We both know it can be over in an instant. In one horrific, cruel second.” Kate’s eyes clouded over with tears and pain.

“You’re right. It can be. But we can’t live our lives looking over our shoulders, waiting for that moment. We can’t be afraid to love with the same intensity we had before because we’re scared of losing each other again.” Jay’s heart lurched as she watched Kate’s face transform into a mask. “Please, please, Kate. Tell me you won’t disappear or hold me at arm’s length or shut me out because you might get hurt. I-I don’t think I could bear it.”

“You don’t know what I went through, Jay. You don’t know how it felt,” Kate said in a harsh whisper.

Jay couldn’t accept that Kate wouldn’t love her with the same deep feeling that she had before, she just couldn’t. “No, you’re right, I don’t.

After all, I only had a few days of thinking you were dead, not months like you.” She swallowed hard, her voice shaking, her temper flaring.

Kate recoiled from the starkness of the statement and the bitterness behind it.

“Let me tell you what I guess I’m qualified to understand then.” Jay broke contact, unable to stay angry in such proximity to the only woman she would ever love. “What I know is what it feels like to have no Lynn Ames

identity—no sense of home or self—just an empty ache inside that might never be filled. What I know is what it’s like to wake up feeling bereft—

like there’s a piece of me missing, only I don’t have a clue what it is.

What I know is what it feels like to be completely, utterly alone, not even knowing if I have someone in my life somewhere who cares. What I know is that if I could only have you back for a day, it would be better than that.” She broke free and ran down the beach, her heart breaking with every step. She wasn’t sure how she’d thought Kate would react to her reappearance, but one thing was certain—she wasn’t prepared for emotional rejection.

For a moment, Kate simply stood there, stunned. Then she took off running after Jay, her longer strides eating up the distance between them.

“Wait. Jay, wait.” With a last lunge, she was able to curl her fingers around Jay’s shoulder and bring her to a stop.

When Jay turned to face Kate, the despair and confusion in her eyes was more than Kate could bear.

“Come here. Come here, love.” Kate wrapped Jay in her arms, resting her chin on the top of Jay’s head, willing her own resistance to crumble.

“I-I don’t know how to do this. There’s no handbook for erasing grief and loss.”

Jay shook her head. “I’m not asking you to erase what happened or what you felt. You can’t. You need to honor what you went through—we both do.” She shivered. “I’m asking for my wife back. I want—no, I need—the woman I fell madly in love with, all of her, not just the piece that she’s willing to leave unprotected. I need to come home.”

Kate’s heart twisted in her chest. “I want to give you that, Jay. I just don’t know if I can.” She felt Jay stiffen against her.

“I guess all I can hope for then is that you’ll give it your best try.” Jay pulled back, her heart bleeding, wondering if she’d made a mistake by walking back into Kate’s life. Even spending two months suffering from amnesia hadn’t left her feeling as alone as she did at this moment.

Looking out to sea, she was surprised to note that the sun was well below the horizon. “We’d better get back.”

Kate followed Jay the length of the beach and up the path that led to the cottage. She had never felt more conflicted or adrift than she did right then. She wished she had Peter or Barbara to talk to—they would be able to help, she was sure of it.

“This list is longer than my arm,” Max complained as he and Peter studied the thirteen sheets of paper Gustav had faxed over. “There must be fifty or more properties owned or leased by Grayson in D.C. alone.”

“Mmm.” Peter’s face was grim. Max was right—it would take them forever to get through the list, and by that time, it would probably be too The Value of Valor

late. “We’re going to have to split up and divide the properties…” Peter’s voice trailed off as his beeper sounded. He squinted at the number.

“That’s interesting.”

“What is?”

“It’s Colonie police.”

“You run afoul of the law back home?”

“Not that I know about,” Peter said as he reached for the phone.

When it was answered on the other end, he said, “This is Peter Enright.

You just paged me?”

“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Enright, but your house alarm went off a few minutes ago. Thought you’d want to know.”

“Really?” Peter maintained a highly sophisticated, state-of-the-art, laser-based silent alarm system. He had designed and installed it himself several months earlier. It was virtually impenetrable and had never given off a false reading. “Did you send anybody out?”

“Yes, sir. They’re just reporting back now. Can you hold a second?”

“Sure.” Peter could hear talking over the police radio in the background.

“Mr. Enright? Looks like somebody cut a hole in one of the windows at the back of the house. The boys are still on the scene looking around.

So far, they haven’t found anyone.”

“Thanks, Sergeant. I appreciate your getting in touch with me. I’m out of town but available by beeper if you need me. Keep me posted if you come up with anything, okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

Peter severed the connection.

“Your place get sacked?”

“The cops aren’t finished looking around yet, but someone definitely tried to get in.”

“Do you think it’s our guys?”

“Not a doubt in my mind.” Peter chewed his lower lip. “Which means they must’ve done a hell of a number on Barbara to get her to talk.” His blood pressure rose as anger suffused his system. “We’ve got to find her—now.”

“Yes, sir. Let’s get started.”

Steven, Paul, and Lorraine bounced in their seats as the private jet landed just outside the District of Columbia. None of them had said a word the entire flight. They all breathed sighs of relief at being safely back home.

“We’re beyond lucky that we didn’t get caught back there,” Lorraine ground out through clenched teeth.

“Relax, we got what we went for.”

Lynn Ames

“We got nothing except some unwanted attention.”

“We know he’s not in Albany, and we picked up a piece of correspondence with a Washington, D.C., address. We can hit that address right away.”

“We came within seconds of getting nailed,” Paul complained.

“But we didn’t,” Steven said testily.

“Because I heard the tires on the street,” Lorraine said.

“Whatever. Let’s focus on bagging Enright.”

Lorraine unbuckled her seat belt as soon as they had come to a complete stop. She stalked off the plane, not even waiting for the others to follow.

Within an hour, Steven and Paul were standing in the empty living room of the condo Peter had originally rented in Alexandria—the one from which he had moved less than twenty-four hours before.

“There’s nothing here—not even a dry cleaning bill,” Paul said.

Lorraine, who was just walking through the door announced, “The building manager says Enright paid on a month-by-month basis—not using that name, of course. He terminated the lease yesterday.”

“We’re nowhere,” Paul said.

“Wrong.” Steven paced across the room. “If he only terminated the lease yesterday, it means that either Kyle’s still in the D.C. area…”

“Hardly likely,” Lorraine scoffed.

“Or he’s not with her, and he still might be close by.”

“In either case, we don’t have him, and we don’t have Kyle. You want to be the one to break that news to the Viper?”

“Viper.”

“Are we any closer to solving our problem?” Grayson asked.

“We know that until yesterday Enright was leasing a condo under an assumed name in Alexandria. We don’t believe Kyle is in the area.”

“But you don’t have him.”

“Not yet, sir.”

“These agents you have on the job, you have confidence in them?”

“Yes,” the Viper gritted his teeth.

“You’ve got twelve hours to deliver or we’ll find someone who can, do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly,” the Viper said, as the dial tone buzzed in his ear.

“This is impossible,” Max said as he threw a sheaf of papers on the sofa. “We’ve been at it for hours. She could be anywhere.”

“I agree,” Peter said, looking up from his own pile. “We’re not going to find her following a paper trail.” He rolled his shoulders and neck, which were stiff from spending so much time hunched over. He’d been The Value of Valor

trying for hours not to focus on the clock—not to think about the fact that Barbara’s chances of survival diminished with every passing second.

“What next?” Max asked.

Peter tapped his forefinger to his mouth as he considered. “It seems to me our options are limited. They seem to want me, so let’s give me to them.”

“What? Boss, I know it’s late, but have you lost your mind?”

Peter shrugged. “An even trade—Barbara for me.”

“Wait a minute.” Max held up his hands. “First of all, we don’t even know if she’s alive.” He bit his lip as he watched Peter’s face go pale.

“Sorry to put it so bluntly, but it’s the truth.”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

Max raised an eyebrow in question.

“Ask them.”

“How do you propose to do that? You can’t exactly walk up to Grayson’s office. You’d never walk out.”

“Right. So we’re going to use a courier.”

“You’re going to send a messenger in to see Grayson?”

“In a manner of speaking. Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?”

“To make a house call on Dr. Englert.”

Lynn Ames

CHAPTER TWENTY

ay was lying on her side, her back to Kate, her arms tightly J hugging her chest. She was exhausted—the combination of the long flight and the emotional day had zapped all her strength. Yet sleep would not come. She could hear Kate’s even breathing behind her and knew that she wasn’t sleeping, either.

Neither one of them said much after their return from the beach—

neither knew what to say. They ate some cheese and crackers, but neither one of them had an appetite. Jay got ready for bed early and slipped under the covers.

Kate followed shortly thereafter, taking care to leave some space between them. She knew Jay was awake, so she didn’t dare move. She wasn’t ready for any more physical contact—she wasn’t sure how she would handle it or even if she could. All that time without Jay, the only thing she’d wished for was another chance—one more night with her.

Now that she had it, she was miserable.

How could it ever be the same? She’d mourned Jay, grieved for her, spent weeks adapting and adjusting to being alone again. It had been the most painful experience of her life—more so than when she’d lost her parents. To open her heart again—to make herself that vulnerable—even for Jay…She wasn’t sure she could. Not only that, but Kate was in danger—it wouldn’t be fair to jeopardize Jay’s life, too. No, Kate decided, it was better to stay aloof, to stay safe.

She began to cry silent tears, her heart aching as she watched Jay’s back, just inches away, her hair shining in the moonlight. Hesitantly, Kate raised her hand, her fingertips longing to brush soft skin—Jay’s skin. Closing her eyes, she dropped her hand to the sheet before making contact. Misery washed over her like a cold blanket. She welcomed it.

It was some hours later when Kate awoke to a bloodcurdling scream.

Her heart raced. She reached for the gun on the night table before realizing that the sound had come from Jay.

Before Kate could react, Jay flew out of bed and through the French doors that opened onto the hillside. She ran across the grass to the edge of the rise where she squatted, wrapping her arms tightly around her The Value of Valor

knees. She rocked back and forth from her heels to her toes, her whole body vibrating.

Kate untangled herself from the sheets and followed. When she reached the lawn, she saw Jay silhouetted in the moonlight, her distress obvious even from a distance.

Jay made no move to acknowledge Kate’s presence, although she was aware of footsteps—she merely continued to rock and comfort herself as best she could.

Deliberately, as if approaching a frightened animal, Kate walked up alongside her. “Jay?”

There was no response.

“Jay, what is it?”

Again, there was silence.

“Please, maybe I can help.”

Jay shook her head.

“Do you want to come back inside?”

Jay shook her head again.

Kate bit her lower lip, feeling utterly useless. “Can I sit down?”

Jay shrugged.

Kate sat on the grass, the dew soaking her shorts, feeling helpless.

She could see from Jay’s profile that she was crying and shaking. She reached out a hand to her, but Jay shook it off.

“Is it me?” Kate asked softly.

Jay shook her head.

“Please, Jay, say something.”

“I remember,” she whispered.

“What?” Kate asked, straining to hear.

Jay looked at her, her eyes wide with terror. “I remember.”

Afraid to move a muscle, Kate asked, “Remember what, honey?”

Jay bent forward, folding even farther into herself, as she let out a mournful wail.

Kate, unable to stay still any longer, wrapped herself around Jay, covering her entirely with her body. “It’s okay. Shh, it’s okay.” She rocked in time with Jay. She could hear her teeth chattering. “I’ve got you, honey. Whatever it is, let it go.”

“No,” Jay sobbed. “No.” She shifted her body and dropped to the ground on her side, knocking Kate off balance and curling up in the fetal position.

Kate got to her knees and placed herself in front of Jay. She’d only ever seen Jay like this once—it was when she’d nearly been raped when they were in college. Her eyes went wide with fear.

“Did anybody touch you? Did…”

“No,” Jay whispered. “I remember.” She started to cry harder.

Lynn Ames

Kate searched her mind desperately. “Something about your father, honey?”

“No, no,” Jay answered.

“Please, Jay, help me here.”

Jay closed her eyes and gave voice to the anguish. “The accident. I remember the accident. It was awful.” She covered her mouth with her hand.

“Oh, Jay.” Kate used her leverage to lift Jay off the ground and into her lap.

“I-I didn’t remember it before. Th-they were chasing me, and I sped up to get away from them,” she said in a rush. “I saw the curve ahead, let up on the gas, and tried to steer into it—like a race car driver, you know?” she asked, looking up at Kate.

“I know,” Kate answered softly, realizing that Jay wasn’t with her on top of the hill—she was on top of that cliff, reliving the moment.

“I turned the car hard, but it wouldn’t respond. I saw the guardrail coming,” she gasped. “It was like slow motion. I watched that poor woman sliding across the seat toward me. I heard her scream. Then we hit the guardrail.”

Kate’s mind derailed. “What woman, honey?”

“The woman I had just picked up on the side of the road because her boyfriend dumped her.” Jay closed her eyes tightly, and her body jumped as she saw it all again in her mind’s eye. “Sh-she slammed into me. I remember hearing a gurgle, looking down, and seeing a piece of metal sticking out of her chest.” Jay put a shaking hand to her mouth.

Kate tightened her grip, whispering soothing words into Jay’s nearby ear, her mind turning over the new information. The teeth and bone fragments must have belonged to that woman. “It’s okay, honey.”

“I remember seeing the ledge come up at me,” she flinched and scrunched her eyes shut. When she opened them, there were huge teardrops on her lower lashes. “That was it. All I know after that is what Terri and the boys told me.”

Kate realized she knew absolutely nothing of what Jay had been through or where she’d been during her absence. Worse yet, Kate hadn’t even bothered to ask.

Jay jumped up out of Kate’s grasp, ran several steps, dropped to her knees, and vomited. She stayed on her hands and knees for several moments until she was sure there was nothing left in her stomach. “I’m sorry,” she said, looking at Kate, who still sat on the ground several feet away.

Kate felt her cheeks turn red with shame. She held out her arms. “I’m the one who should be sorry.”

The Value of Valor

Jay returned to Kate and sat down by her side, her body still vibrating from the memory.

“I’ve been so selfish.” Kate ran impatient fingers through her own hair. “Here I’ve been so busy walling myself off that I never even considered the ordeal you’ve been through. I’m so, so sorry.” She squeezed Jay’s hand.

A sob escaped from Jay’s lips. “Yeah, me too.” She began to rock again, sitting on the grass. “I-I tried so hard to remember who I was. I really did, Kate. I didn’t want to stay away.” She looked at her lover with eyes that pleaded for understanding. “I wanted desperately to know who I was—where I belonged.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Kate rubbed Jay’s back. “Who is Terri, honey?”

“Terri is the Navajo healer who nursed me back to health after some of the boys on the reservation pulled me out of the wreck.” Jay stared straight ahead. “They saved my life on that ledge before the car dropped to the canyon floor.” Jay looked at Kate with anguished eyes. “Terri knew about the woman who died—she thought that was Jamison Parker based on the news reports. She had no idea who I really was.”

Kate ran her fingers lightly up Jay’s arm, closing her eyes as Jay described her injuries and how long it took to heal physically. “I’m so sorry, honey.”

“When I found out about the accident and the men chasing me, I wondered what kind of person I could be that someone wanted me dead,”

she whispered. “I thought maybe I was bad.” She sobbed.

“Oh, Jay.” Kate closed her eyes at the sound of Jay’s pain. “I can’t imagine what you went through.” I’m a selfish idiot.

Something occurred to Jay; she turned suddenly to face Kate, her eyes wide. “It was Breathwaite.”

“What?” Kate asked, trying to keep up.

“It was Breathwaite who ordered me killed—to get back at you for what happened.”

Kate’s blood ran cold. “How do you know that?” It was her turn to feel sick.

“Peter traced him through the ex-con he hired to do the job. The guy was at the ball; he must’ve overheard us talking to the president. Peter was flying back to Washington to tell you when all hell broke loose.”

Jay’s voice got quiet. “He never got the chance.”

Kate mentally kicked herself in the head. “I’ve made such a mess of things.” Kate cradled her head in her hands, realization dawning.

“What are you talking about?”

Lynn Ames

“Here I’ve been shutting you out—essentially punishing you for being absent—something over which you had no control. I didn’t even know I was doing it.”

“You were hurting, Kate. I can understand that.”

“It wasn’t your fault. None of it was your fault,” Kate said thickly.

“I’m such an ass.”

“Don’t say that,” Jay said hotly.

“It’s true.” Kate shrugged.

“No, it’s not. You were grieving.”

“I was blind. I-I didn’t see you. All I saw was my own pain.” She looked at Jay, eyes filled with hurt and remorse.

“That’s understandable, Kate. I can’t imagine what it felt like to be you.” She found Kate’s hand and held it. “I only got a small taste of that, when I…when my memory came back and I thought you were gone. It was unbearable,” she finished quietly.

Kate shifted sideways and reached gentle fingers out to turn Jay’s face to her. “We have each other now,” she said, her voice resolute. “I’m not going to let anybody take that away from us again—not Breathwaite, not the Commission—no one.”

Jay smiled, her heart lifting. “That’s my Kate.”

Kate nodded through a fresh wave of tears. “Sorry it took me so long to come to the party.”

“Better late than never,” Jay said, smiling softly.

Kate poked her. “Ready to come to bed?”

Jay hesitated, the fear still too close. “How about a midnight stroll on the beach first? I don’t think I’m ready to face another nightmare just yet.”

Kate rose to her feet, pulling Jay up with her. “I’ll be right beside you, holding you, I promise.” Kate’s world righted itself when Jay slid into her arms, their bodies making contact all along their lengths.

“I’m counting on it.”

Barbara wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep. She woke with a start when she heard footsteps approach and keys rattle in the door. A renewed wave of fear crashed over her.

“Here’s some food. Sorry it’s not exactly the Ritz,” Lorraine said, uncuffing Barbara’s hands and recuffing them in front on her. She shoved the tray toward her. “I suggest you eat it—you’re going to be here a while.” Lorraine left, locking the door behind her.

Barbara’s mind raced. Who was this woman? Was she trying to send Barbara a message? Wishful thinking. Still she had said it would be a while; that meant they weren’t going to kill her—yet. Barbara closed her eyes and breathed a tiny sigh of relief. She pulled the tray closer, noting The Value of Valor

that the woman had thought to bring her soft and liquid items to accommodate her swollen jaw and face. How thoughtful.

Peter and Max pulled up outside a nice home in Arlington, Virginia.

“Dr. Englert’s house, I presume,” Max said as Peter cut the engine. “Nice digs.”

“We’re in the wrong line of work, Max.”

“No kidding. What do you think, just ring the doorbell?”

Peter surveyed the street. “Let’s take a quick drive around the neighborhood and make sure he’s not being watched.” He pulled away from the curb and made a three-mile loop around the area.

“I don’t see anybody, boss.”

“Me either. Okay, let’s go.”

It took nearly a minute after the doorbell rang for it to be answered. A rotund, middle-aged woman appeared. “Can I help you?”

“We’d like to see Dr. Englert, please, ma’am.”

“At this hour?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Is he expecting you?”

“Who is it, Darlene?” asked a male voice from within.

Peter took advantage of Darlene’s momentary distraction and pushed past her. “Dr. Englert?”

“Wh-who are you? What do you want?”

Peter noted the fear on the doctor’s face and decided to take advantage of it. “We want to talk to you.” He took another two steps forward, watching as Englert backed away.

“About what?”

“About what you’ve been doing lately.”

“M-me? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“We think you do,” Max interjected.

“Are you with the Commission? Did Grayson send you?”

Peter raised an eyebrow but said nothing, preferring to see just how much Englert would divulge.

“I-I meant to tell you about those two guys who showed up at my office today. I did. I just didn’t get a chance. M-my secretary didn’t tell them anything. She doesn’t know anything, I swear.”

Peter wondered how far to push it. He took another step forward.

“Aw, look guys. I’ve done everything Mr. Grayson has asked of me.

I-I’ve kept the patient alive but completely incapacitated.”

“What?” Peter asked, urgency in his voice.

Englert backed up another step. “I haven’t told anyone about any of it—not even my wife.”

“Say it again.”

Lynn Ames

“I swear, she doesn’t know the president is alive. I never told her.

Please.” Englert was so frightened he didn’t appear to realize Peter wasn’t interested in his wife. Sweat left large blotches on his gray turtleneck.

“Take him,” Peter ordered. He tried to keep his face and voice neutral, even as adrenaline pumped through his body. President Hyland was alive!

Max moved in and placed a large hand on Englert’s shoulder.

“T-take me where? P-please…I swear to you…”

Max grabbed Englert’s wrist and held it behind his back. “Let’s go.”

Darlene appeared from the kitchen, where she’d retreated when Peter and Max came in. “What’s going on? Where are you taking Jonathan?”

Neither Peter nor Max answered her; they merely hustled Englert toward the door.

“Jonathan?” Her voice rose in panic.

Englert looked back at her, sadness in his eyes. “It’s all right, Dar.

Everything will be all right. Whatever you do, don’t answer the door.”

“Okay. When will you be back?”

“I don’t know.” His voice trailed off as he was shoved through the doorway.

Peter produced a set of handcuffs from his trunk. “Cuff him and get in the backseat with him.”

“Right, boss.” Under his breath, he muttered, “That was a lot more than we came for, huh?”

Peter winked at him.

“W-where are you taking me?” When Englert received no answer, he assumed the worst. He leaned his head back against the seat, closed his eyes, and began to sob.

Peter rolled his eyes at Max in the rearview mirror. He took his time driving home, wanting to be sure no one followed them.

“Anybody out there, boss?”

“All quiet.”

“Good.”

When they arrived at the condo, Peter took Englert to a back bedroom and used a second set of handcuffs to secure him to the bed frame.

“W-what are you going to do?”

“Don’t go away,” Peter said, winking as he closed and locked the door.

Max was waiting for him in the living room. “That was too easy,”

Max said.

“You’re telling me. What a wimp.”

“You heard what he said? You took it the same way I did, right?”

The Value of Valor

“That President Hyland is alive? You bet I heard him. The question is where and how.”

“Let me guess—we’re going to go get him?”

“Yep. But first we need more answers.”

“And we need Barbara.”

“Yes. I have a feeling she’s in more imminent danger than the president.”

Max raised an eyebrow in question.

“If they wanted to kill the president, they would have done it that night,” Peter said. “There’s got to be some reason they’re keeping him alive.”

“On the other hand, if Barbara has already told them everything she knows…” Max left the thought unfinished.

“Exactly.”

“Do you think Englert knows where she is?”

“Doubtful.”

“Damn.”

“However, chances are he’s someone Grayson values. I think he might be willing to trade.”

“Barbara for Englert?”

Peter nodded.

“You think they’d do that?”

“I think they’d at least pretend they were willing to do that.”

“They’ll try to kill them both.”

“Yes.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that.”

“Max, there’s no need…”

“Don’t even...You go in, I go in.”

“You’re crazy, you know that?”

“I learned from the best.”

“I think it’s time to ask Dr. Englert a few more questions, don’t you?”

“Sure. You going to tell him we’re not with Grayson?”

“Even as scared as he is, I’m pretty sure he’ll figure it out when we start asking him where they’re holding the president.”

“True. You want to take point or you want me to?”

“You do it. You’ve been quiet so far. Let’s see if he likes you any better than me.”

They walked down the hall together.

“Dr. Englert, we’ve got more questions for you.”

“W-what kind of questions?”

“Let’s start with something simple, shall we? Do you know Dr.

Barbara Jones?”

“Who?”

Lynn Ames

Max looked over Englert’s head at Peter, who shook his head.

“Okay. Let’s try something else.” Max moved closer, until he was looming over the doctor. “What drug did you give the president to mimic death?”

“M-” He tried to whip his head around to see Peter. “Who are you people? You’re not from the Commission.”

“No, Dr. Englert. We’re a lot worse.” Max smiled malevolently.

“Or a lot better—that depends on you, Doctor,” Peter said.

“Oh, God,” Englert said, dropping his chin onto his chest. “He’ll kill me.”

“Who, Grayson?”

Englert nodded miserably.

Peter moved around to face him. “Help us and we’ll see that you get out of this safely.”

“He’s got people everywhere.” The doctor wished the floor would open up and swallow him.

“We know,” Peter said. “He had Dr. Conrad killed, didn’t he?”

Englert looked up at him, surprise written on his face. “You know about that?”

Peter nodded. “He’s holding another doctor, too—Dr. Jones.” Peter turned his back to Englert, walked across the room, and looked out at the street through the blinds. “Your Mr. Grayson doesn’t seem to like doctors very much.” He smiled when he heard the doctor moan. “If you were to help us, we’d see to it that you—and your wife—would be spared.”

“Who are you?”

“We’ll ask the questions here, Doctor,” Max said in a deadly quiet voice. “The question was—what drug did you give the president?”

Englert looked from Max to Peter, his breath quickening. “H-how do I know you’ll protect me?”

Max put his arms on Englert’s chair and leaned forward. “You don’t.

What you can be sure of is that if you don’t tell us what we want to know—all of it—you’ll be dead before the night is out.”

“Oh, God.” Englert tried to mop his brow with his shirtsleeve, but the cuffs prevented him from reaching. “O-okay. Okay. I’ll tell you.” He slumped in his chair. “They gave him carbon monoxide to produce the symptoms that made him collapse. Since then he’s been on a steady drip of pancuronium.”

“Pancuronium?” Peter whirled around. “They use that in lethal injections.”

Dr. Englert nodded. “It’s also used as an anesthetic sometimes.

Pancuronium leaves the patient alert but completely incapacitated. I’ve had a nurse monitor his vital signs on an hourly basis.”

The Value of Valor

“You…” Max lunged at Englert, and only Peter’s quick reflexes prevented his fist from connecting with the doctor’s face.

“I take it the autopsy was rigged?” Peter asked, as he shoved Max away.

Englert nodded, his eyes wide as he continued to watch Max. “The whole thing was. I used faulty paddles ostensibly to revive him when he arrived at the hospital.” He flinched as Max flexed his biceps.

Peter held out a restraining hand. “Where did you take the president?”

Englert sighed. “To the National Institute of Mental Health. There’s a secret entrance to the basement from an underground garage.”

“Is he still there?”

“Yes. There’s a nurse with him around the clock and agents guarding the entrance.”

“Why are they keeping him alive?”

“I don’t know—I just follow instructions.”

Max moved a step closer.

Englert tried to throw up his hands to protect his face. “I swear—

that’s the truth.”

“Is there an antidote to pancuronium poisoning?”

Englert nodded. “A neostigmine–atropine cocktail.”

“Will it completely reverse the effects?” Peter asked.

“Most likely, although in his case, since he’s being fed a steady diet of pancuronium via a drip, it might take up to an hour for full recovery of function.” Englert’s eyes tracked Max as he paced around the room.

“When are you due to check on the president next?”

“Tomorrow morning at 6:15.”

“All right. Will the president’s health be adversely affected if you don’t show?”

Englert bit his lip, clearly trying to decide how to answer. “Doctor,”

Peter said, “you won’t be seeing the president again in any event, so don’t think about lying. We’re simply asking if not having a doctor present will further jeopardize the president’s health.”

“No, at this point, the president’s care is all about maintenance.”

“Thank you. How do you usually communicate with Mr. Grayson?”

“He phones me or summons me through an agent.”

“Do you know how to get in touch with him, say, in case of an emergency?”

“Y-yes. I have a contact number. You’re not going to turn me over to him now, are you?”

“No, Doctor. Relax,” Peter said, as he thought about what he wanted to do next. “I want you to give me the number.”

“But…”

“Give him the number,” Max said, as he stepped closer.

Lynn Ames

The doctor rattled off a phone number and protocol, which Peter wrote down.

“Will this number work any time, day or night?”

“Yes.”

“Well done, Doctor. We’ll be back.”

The Value of Valor

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

ay sighed blissfully and turned in the comfort of Kate’s embrace.

J “Thank you,” she said softly.

“For what?” Kate asked, smiling.

“For holding me and making me feel safe again.”

Kate kissed the top of Jay’s head. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For the first restful sleep I’ve had in months.”

“You’re welcome. Kate?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.” Jay’s voice became a hoarse whisper. “Maybe you’re still not ready to hear it, but…”

Kate pressed two fingers against Jay’s lips. “I love you, too, sweetheart. I never stopped loving you—I couldn’t.” Tears moistened her lashes. “Geez, I can’t seem to turn these things off.”

Jay reached up and gently removed the tears with her tongue. “Hmm, needs a little salt.”

Kate laughed, then grew serious again. “Thank you for everything you went through to come back to me. Every night, I wished for just one more chance to hold you…one more chance to make love to you.”

“Every night, I wished to know where I belonged—to know what was missing.” Jay snuggled farther into Kate. “This is what I was missing.

You are my life, Katherine Kyle.”

“And you are my heart, Jamison Parker.” Kate rolled over, pinning Jay beneath her. She ran her fingers across Jay’s exposed collarbone, down the center of her T-shirt and underneath its hem. “Is this okay?”

she breathed.

“Mmm. More than okay.” Jay leaned up to allow Kate to remove the shirt, wincing as the sleeve got caught on her left arm.

Kate was instantly alert. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Just a little sore every now and again.”

Kate ran her fingers reverently over the tender shoulder, kissed the ribs Jay had broken, and lifted the hair on Jay’s forehead to look at the tiny scar under her hairline. Her fingers trembled, her heart turning over Lynn Ames

yet again as she thought about how close she had come to losing Jay forever.

“It’s okay, Kate. I’m all healed.”

“I can’t wait to get my hands on Breathwaite.”

Jay chuckled. “I suspect you’re too late. Peter told me he was taking care of it.”

Kate smiled evilly. “Wish I could be there to watch.”

“I didn’t realize you were so sadistic. Remind me to stay on your good side.”

“Which side is that?”

“Well, let’s see.” Jay began to trace Kate’s neck, shoulders, arms, abdomen, pelvis, and legs. “This side isn’t bad, but I can’t judge adequately until I’ve seen all the angles.”

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Kate reasserted her position on top of Jay. She lowered herself and kissed Jay possessively on the mouth. This time, there was no holding back, no ambivalence—just pure, unadulterated desire. She parted Jay’s lips with her tongue, demanding entrance.

Roughly, she sucked Jay’s tongue, scraping it with her teeth, filling her mouth until Jay moaned and melted beneath the scorching heat.

Kate pulled back just enough to bite Jay’s lower lip, sucking it into her mouth. She let that go, only to continue her assault on Jay’s jaw, neck, ears, and throat. She tasted greedily, savoring the scents and flavors.

Without warning, emotion overtook her senses as she opened her heart to the love Jay gave so freely. Her mouth trembled over Jay’s nipple; she closed her eyes and willed her body to stop shaking, to no avail.

Jay reached up and captured Kate’s face with her hands. Slowly, she lifted herself until her mouth met Kate’s. With their lips just millimeters apart, she said, “I love you. Make love to me.” Her voice was husky and low. Its timbre reached to Kate’s very core and wrapped itself around her heart.

Kate nipped at Jay’s bellybutton, then licked and kissed the same spot. She sucked on Jay’s hip bones, first one, then the other. She smoothed her palms over hardened nipples, groaning with pleasure as she felt Jay’s body respond.

Finally, when neither one of them could wait any longer, Kate lowered her mouth to Jay’s center and feasted.

Their twin orgasms left them both breathless and awed once again by the incredible power of their love.

“Grayson?”

“Who is this?”

The Value of Valor

“You’ve been looking for me.”

“I doubt it. If I’d been looking for you, I’d have found you.”

Peter laughed. “Better hire more competent help next time.”

“Let me guess, Peter Enright.”

“Very good.”

“What do you want?”

“I’ve got something important to you; you’ve got something I want. I want to trade.”

It was Grayson’s turn to laugh. “What is it you think could be so important to me?”

“Dr. Jonathan Englert.”

“Don’t know him, don’t need him.”

“You’re lying—you and I both know it. Stop the games.”

There was silence on the other end of the line for a few moments.

“All right, what is it you think I have that you might value?”

“Dr. Barbara Jones.”

“Never heard of her.”

“I said,” Peter tried to modulate his voice, “I want to make a trade—

Englert for Jones—tomorrow night.”

Another momentary silence ensued.

“All right. Midnight—at the Lincoln Memorial.”

“That’s a bit ironic, don’t you think?” In truth, Peter was thinking of all the many places Grayson could, and most likely would, have snipers hiding.

“Take it or leave it, Mr. Enright.”

“Fine. But first, I need proof that Dr. Jones is alive. I want to talk to her. Once now and again five minutes before the meet.”

“Out of the question.”

“I don’t talk to her, there’s no deal. I’ll take your scam public.”

“You’d never see the lovely Dr. Jones alive again.”

Peter tried to sound nonchalant. “She’d understand.”

“Would she, now? That’s quite a woman.”

Peter ignored the clumsy attempt to make him reveal his emotions for Barbara. “Yes or no?”

“I get to talk to Englert, too.”

“Of course.”

“Where can I reach you?”

“I’ll call you back in thirty minutes. Be ready.” Peter hung up the phone.

“Did he bite?” Max asked when Peter joined him in Englert’s room.

“Yep. In half an hour, I’ll find out if Barbara is really alive.” He bit his lower lip.

“You worried?”

Lynn Ames

“A little.”

“Ask a question they couldn’t have anticipated. That way, you’ll be sure she really is alive.”

“Good thinking, Max.”

“Hey, that’s why you pay me the big bucks.”

“I’m paying you?” Peter appreciated the banter, which he knew was designed to put him more at ease.

“If you count Chinese takeout as payment.”

“You complaining?”

“Never.”

“Good thing.”

They walked back down the hall.

“Okay, Dr. Englert, here’s the drill. I’m going to put you on the phone with Mr. Grayson,” Peter said.

Englert began to shake and whimper, “No, please. You can’t.”

“Relax, nothing’s going to happen to you. He just wants to confirm that you’re alive. You are to tell him the exact time—nothing more. Do you understand?”

Englert nodded.

“Any word beyond that, and I won’t wait for Grayson—I’ll kill you myself.”

“I-I understand.”

“Good boy.” Max patted Englert on the cheek as the doctor shrank away from him.

Barbara heard footsteps coming again. This time, they were heavier, and there were more of them. She pulled her knees up to her chest and tried to gird herself for whatever was coming.

When the key turned in the lock and the door opened, she was surprised to see a good-looking, middle-aged man in an expensive suit, followed closely by the man who had questioned her earlier.

“Dr. Jones. It looks like you’ve got a fan club,” the new man said.

She watched him, puzzled. He looked familiar—like she’d seen him somewhere—maybe on television or in the newspapers, but she couldn’t quite place him.

“In a few seconds, this phone is going to ring.” He pointed to his cell phone. “It’s going to be for you—a friend of yours, Peter Enright.”

Barbara gasped in surprise, relief coursing through her.

“He wants to know if you’re alive. I assured him we were treating you quite well, but…”

She shot the man a hateful glare.

The Value of Valor

“In any event. If you try anything funny, he’ll kill you right here and now.” Grayson indicated the Viper with his head. “Do we understand each other?”

Barbara didn’t answer.

Grayson looked at the Viper. “She can speak, can’t she?”

Before the Viper could answer, the phone in Grayson’s hand rang.

Exactly thirty minutes after he’d hung up from Grayson the first time, Peter called him back.

“Put Dr. Jones on the phone.”

“Hello to you, too, Mr. Enright. All right, you have ten seconds.”

“P-Peter?”

“Barbara, what’s the name of Kate’s dog?”

“Wh—Fred, why?”

He closed his eyes as his throat tightened. She sounded so frightened and vulnerable. “Just making sure you’re really okay. I’m coming to get you. Be ready.”

“That’s all you get, Mr. Enright,” Grayson came back on the line.

“Give me Englert.”

“All right.” Peter held the phone to Englert’s ear.

“H-hello?”

“Jonathan, Jonathan. Got yourself in a mess this time, didn’t you?”

Grayson said smoothly.

Englert swallowed hard as Max came to stand in front of him. “I-it’s 11:42 p.m.”

Peter took the phone away. “Satisfied, Grayson?”

“For the moment.”

“Remember, I talk to Dr. Jones again five minutes before the meet tomorrow night. Should I reach you at this number?”

“Yes.”

Peter hung up the phone and left the room. He walked down the hall to his room, closed the door, and leaned his forehead against the wall.

Barbara’s voice was small and weak—indications to Peter that she’d probably been beaten and maybe tortured. He closed his eyes. It was his fault—he had made her vulnerable by sending her to Denver. If he hadn’t done that, the Commission likely would have done nothing more than watch Barbara from a distance. Damn. He slammed his hand against the wall. He got her into this mess; if it cost him his life, he would get her out—alive.

Grayson left the room without saying another word to his captive, the Viper following closely behind. When they were alone, Grayson said calmly, “I want them all dead.”

Lynn Ames

“Englert, too?” the Viper asked.

“Yes. Enright, Jones, and Englert.”

“Done.”

“You’ll supervise personally?”

The Viper smiled malevolently. “It will be my pleasure. Sir?”

“What is it?”

“Do you want to move the patient? Assuming Englert’s told Enright his location, it might be risky to keep him there.”

Grayson tapped a forefinger against his chin as he considered the options. “True, but it would be even riskier to try to move him. Enright could have people watching, waiting for us to panic and run.” He reached a decision. “As long as the patient’s still inside, we can control the environment. We’ll beef up security.”

“Very well.”

“Besides, I don’t think Enright would try anything before ensuring Dr. Jones’s safety. He’s too honorable for that.”

“Kevin? This is Skydiver.”

“To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure, mate?”

“Are the packages safe?”

Kevin frowned. Peter sounded very tense, which was unlike him.

“Yeah, mate. I’ve been keeping a bit of an eye out for them. They’re both quite something. No wonder you’d go to the wall for them.”

“Good. That’s why I called. I, um…”

“What’s going on? You sound a bit uptight.”

“There’ve been some developments, and I’m not sure how it’s going to come down.” There was a pause before Peter added, “I need to know that you’ll protect the girls.”

“Of course. You know you can count on me.” Kevin had never, even in the heat of a firefight, heard Peter sound this rattled.

“I know I can—that’s why I sent the packages to you.”

“Tell me the full story so I can be better prepared, okay?”

When Peter was done, Kevin whistled. “That’s quite a tale. Okay, mate. No worries on this end, I’ve got the girls covered. You take care and be careful over there. Sounds like these buggers play for keeps.”

“Will do. Kevin?” Peter asked after a moment.

“Yeah?”

“Do me a favor, will you?”

“Always.”

“Tell the girls…tell them I love them.”

Kevin swallowed hard. “You bet. But you’re going to tell them yourself when this is all over. Take care, Skydiver.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

The Value of Valor

Kate was getting a cold drink out of the refrigerator when she heard the car drive up. Without hesitation, she ran across the room and grabbed the gun off the night table. “Jay? Where are you?”

“I’m out here enjoying the view. You should join me.”

Kate ran through the French doors to where Jay was sitting. Pulling her up, she moved them both behind the cover of the cottage’s near corner.

“What’s going on?”

“Shh. Company,” Kate whispered. She held the gun in front of her, listening. She saw a shadow cross the lawn and waited until she had a clear view. “Stop right there,” she ordered.

“Whoa. Easy. I’m a friend.”

“I said stop.”

The man stopped and held up his hands.

“On the ground, facedown. Now. Hands away from your sides.”

The man did as he was told.

“Are you alone?”

“Yes, you can check the car.”

Kate moved slowly toward him, motioning Jay to stay back. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“I’m a friend of Skydiver’s.”

“Tell me Skydiver’s real name,” Kate said.

“Peter. Can I get up now?”

Jay walked toward him when she saw Kate wavering. “It’s okay, Kate. It’s Kevin,” she said, when she was close enough to see.

“Okay?” Kevin asked, still sprawled spread eagle on the ground.

“Okay,” Kate replied grudgingly.

When Kevin stood up and brushed himself off, Kate narrowed her eyes. “I’ve seen you before. You were at Albert Park.”

Kevin nodded. “I’m the one who left you the knapsack under the bench at 7:00.”

“He picked me up at the airport and brought me to you,” Jay said to Kate.

Kate finally relaxed her stance and lowered the gun to her side.

“Welcome. Sorry about the greeting.”

“That’s all right, mate. I’m glad you’re being careful. If you weren’t, Peter’d have my hide. Speaking of which…that’s why I’m here.”

Kate stiffened. “Has something happened?”

Kevin shifted from foot to foot. “Not yet.”

“What does that mean?” Jay asked.

“Man, I can see you two are trouble together.”

“You’re stalling,” Kate said. “Spill it.”

Lynn Ames

Kevin pointed to the picnic table. “Can I sit down?”

“Of course,” Jay said, as she pulled Kate over to the table with her.

“I had a call from Peter just a bit ago,” Kevin began hesitantly.

“You’re wondering if you should filter the information—don’t,” Kate said, her voice determined.

Kevin shrugged. “That’s the way I had it figured, but somehow I’m thinking our friend Peter would be less than happy with me.”

“He’s not the one sitting in front of you holding a gun.” Kate smiled as Kevin’s eyes widened.

He scratched his stubble. “Well, you do have a point there, love.” He tucked his feet underneath him. “All right, here’s the skinny…” Kevin told them about Peter grabbing Englert and the truth about the president’s condition.

“So are they going after the president?”

Kevin rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. Peter had made him swear he wouldn’t tell Kate about Barbara or the swap.

“Spill it,” Kate ordered. “I can see there’s more.”

“They are going after President Hyland, right?” Jay asked.

“I’m sure they are, love, but not just yet.”

“Why not?” Jay was indignant.

“There’s something else they’ve got to do first.”

“Like?” Kate asked.

“You’re a tough one, mate, I’ll give you that.”

Kate merely tapped her fingers on the table.

Kevin sighed. “Seems like when Peter sent your friend Barbara to Denver, some operatives followed her.”

“Why in the world did he send her to Denver?” Kate asked, perplexed.

Kevin shifted uncomfortably again and sighed. “When Peter saw Jay at the funeral, there were five operatives in the room. He was afraid they would spot her, so he needed a distraction. He sent Barbara to Denver because that was the last place he had rigged an ATM transaction by you.” He looked at Kate. “He never figured she’d be in danger.”

“Danger? They just followed her, right?” Kate asked, her pulse quickening.

“Not exactly. They nabbed her when she got home—wherever that is.”

“It’s all because of me,” Jay whispered.

“No. No, Jay. It’s not. They picked her up because they figured she could lead them to me.” Kate took Jay’s hand.

Kevin nodded.

“Yes, but she wouldn’t have had to distract them if it hadn’t been for me.”

The Value of Valor

“They’d probably already been watching her.” To Kevin, Kate asked,

“Did she know anything?”

“No.”

“Where is she now?” Kate’s voice was deathly quiet.

“That’s why Peter isn’t going after your president just yet. He’s going to trade Dr. Englert for Barbara.”

Jay groaned.

Kate shook her head. “It’s a suicide mission. They’ll never let her go alive; she knows too much. And they’ll kill Peter and Englert, too. I’ve seen what they’re capable of.” Her body was vibrating with tension. “It’s a trap.” She stood up and began to pace. “Peter’s too smart not to know that.” She looked at Kevin. “Why are you here?”

Kevin couldn’t look her in the eye. “Peter wanted me to be sure you girls stayed safe.”

“He doesn’t think he’s going to make it.” Jay’s voice was a whisper.

There was silence for a moment before Kate let out an exasperated growl. “What does he hope to accomplish?”

“He wants to get Barbara out alive.”

“By sacrificing himself? This is madness!”

“He hopes it won’t come to that.”

“Is he going in there by himself?”

“He’s got a guy named Max working with him.”

Kate nodded. “Max is a good man. But still—it’s not enough.” She paced back and forth one more time. “I’ve got to go back.”

“Kate.” Jay jumped up.

“None of this would be happening if it weren’t for me. It’s my responsibility. I can’t sit here and hide away knowing that my friends are putting their lives on the line for me.” She looked deeply into Jay’s frightened eyes. “I can’t, honey,” she said quietly.

“Where you go, I go.” Jay set her jaw.

“Jay…”

“No, Kate. We’re in this together.” She squeezed Kate’s hands.

Kevin cleared his throat, feeling like a voyeur. “If you’ll excuse me for saying so, I’ve been charged with the job of keeping you both safe.”

“You’re not going to stop us,” Kate said forcefully.

Kevin laughed. “I can see that. What I was actually going to say was, if you’re going, I’m going.”

“Kevin…”

“Nope. I agreed to do a job, and by golly, I’m going to do it.”

“We’d better get a flight.”

Kevin put a hand on Jay’s arm as she moved to go inside. “No need, love. I’ve already rented a charter to get us to Sidney. After that, a buddy of mine who flies planes for Flying Tigers is going to let us hitch a ride Lynn Ames

with him. We’ll make a fuel stop in L.A.—then directly on to D.C. He shrugged, blushing. “I sort of figured it would go this way.”

“When do we leave?” Jay asked.

“The charter’s just waiting for us.”

“We’d better get going then,” Kate said. “What time was the exchange scheduled for?”

“Midnight tomorrow night, East Coast time.”

Jay bit her lip. “What time will we get there?”

“It’ll be tight,” Kevin said.

“Then there’s no time to lose.” Kate was already on her way inside.

The Value of Valor

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

eter and Max quietly, grimly went about readying themselves for P the meeting. Assembled on the living room floor were four Glock Nines, two Sig Sauers, two tiny microphones with transmitters, and two survival knives. There was also one bulletproof Kevlar vest—the only one Peter owned. Peter handed it to Max without comment.

“Boss…”

“Don’t argue with me; this is not negotiable.”

“I don’t feel comfortable…”

“They’re not meant to be comfortable,” Peter broke in.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Either you wear it or I go in alone.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Deadly.”

Max clamped his mouth shut.

Peter looked up from loading ammunition. “Last chance. I can’t ask you to do this, Max. In fact, as glad as I am to have you at my back, I wish you wouldn’t do this.”

Max looked Peter in the eye. “I’m in.”

“Okay. Let’s go over it one more time. We get to the site an hour ahead of time to check out the setup and see what they’re up to. I call five minutes in advance to ensure Barbara is alive.” He ignored the pang in his gut those words caused—this was business now. “We make them give us Barbara before we turn over Englert.” He looked at Max. “You hold Englert back out of sight until I tell you it’s a go. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“As soon as you give me Englert, I’m going to give you Barbara. Get her out of there and to the car as quickly as possible.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll cover you and be right behind you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, boss. I’ve got the vest, I should be the one on cover duty.”

“You’ve got the vest—you’re Barbara’s best chance.”

“I don’t like it.”

Lynn Ames

“You don’t have to like it, Max. That’s the way it’s going to go, okay?”

“Yes, sir. You don’t really intend to give them Englert, do you?”

“I’m going to try to hold on to both of them.”

“We need his testimony to prove all this. Who would believe it otherwise?” Max asked.

“That’s why we made the videotape of him this morning.”

“Just in case.”

“Exactly.”

“Would it be admissible in a court of law?”

“I don’t know—but it’s better than nothing. Okay. It’s time.” Peter squeezed Max’s shoulder. “If I haven’t said so yet, what you’re doing here…well, it means a lot to me. Thanks.”

“Like I said, why would I let you have all the fun? I’ll even buy the beer when we’re done.”

Peter laughed. “You’re on.”

“Let’s roll.”

It was impossible to hear inside the cavernous jet, so Kate and Jay simply snuggled together and tried to sleep. When that failed, Jay took out a pen and a pad of paper and began to sketch the outline for a story she titled, “The Hijacking of America—a Truth Stranger Than Fiction.”

As she wrote, Kate looked over her shoulder, taking the pen and filling in details where required—even adding a couple of quotes. She kissed Jay on the top of the head and yelled in her ear to be heard.

“Planning to send this to Trish?”

Jay nodded. She yelled back, “I’m thinking I’d better deliver it in person, though. Otherwise, she might have a heart attack.”

Kate laughed. “Good point.” Her smiled faded. “She was really torn up about you—thought it was her fault for letting you go.”

“What? That’s ridiculous.”

“That’s what I told her, but…”

“I can’t wait to set her straight.” Jay fell silent, thinking about what it must have been like for her editor to know she died while on assignment.

She and Trish were more than co-workers—they were friends. She would go see her as soon as this was over.

Kate looked down at the paper in Jay’s lap. The story ended for the moment with the conspiracy, leaving the outcome for later. She hoped beyond measure that they’d all have a chance to see that outcome through.

Peter sent Kevin to protect them; that told Kate he truly didn’t expect to survive the encounter. She was not at all surprised that he would go through with the exchange to save Barbara—that was so typically Peter.

The Value of Valor

He’d been in plenty of tight spots in his lifetime. She knew he had never feared death; she imagined that he didn’t fear it now. He was probably more concerned that he would no longer be able to protect her. That, too, was typically Peter.

Well, she thought, it’s my turn to protect you, Technowiz, whether youlike it or not. She looked at her watch for what seemed like the thousandth time since they took off from L.A. It was 11:06 p.m. on the East Coast. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, wondering if they could possibly make it in time.

Peter circled around the Lincoln Memorial one more time. So far, he’d counted three operatives. He found it hard to believe there weren’t more, but if there were, they were well hidden. Perhaps this might go better than he expected. He checked his watch—almost time to make the phone call. His stomach flipped—it usually did before a dangerous mission—but this time was different; this was personal.

He walked back to where Max and Englert sat in the car on an adjoining street. Max got out when he saw Peter coming and locked Englert in the car.

“Everything okay here?”

“Yeah, boss. You?”

“Still three confirmed, fanned out like a triangle. I didn’t see Barbara, but I didn’t expect to yet.”

“You still want to go with the revised plan?”

“Yes.” When Peter saw the setup on his first pass, he reconfigured his plan. There was no way in his mind to avoid a head-on confrontation.

“I’ve got to come up the middle, but I’ll try to angle to the south side as much as I can.”

“Right. The Gettysburg Address side.”

“Yes.” Peter shook his head, marveling at how a man with Max’s abilities could be so directionally clueless. “You back me up from the north side—the inaugural address side, behind the second operative—

after they’ve had a chance to see me and scan the area. Wait until they’re fully focused on me. We’ll both have a clear line at the third guy once you get in place.”

“You sure, boss? Without me directly at your back, it leaves you vulnerable.” Max was thinking that it also meant he couldn’t shield Peter from fire with the Kevlar vest.

“Yes. You have the envelope I gave you?”

“Yes. I’m to give it to Barbara in case…”

“Right.” Peter didn’t want to dwell on his note to Barbara. “Time to make the call.”

“Grayson.”

Lynn Ames

“Put her on.”

“Peter?” Barbara asked.

“What color are Jay’s eyes?”

“G-green.”

“Good girl. I’ll have you out of here before you know it,” Peter promised.

“If you’re done, Mr. Enright, we’ll see you in five minutes.”

Barbara was seated, shackled, behind the statue of Abraham Lincoln, emancipator of the slaves. The irony was not lost on her, but her mind was focused elsewhere. Peter had asked her about Jay’s eyes—in the present tense. Peter never said anything by accident. He was telling her that Jay was alive. Could it be? She thought back to Kate’s funeral. She’d been talking to Peter, telling him something, when his attention was suddenly diverted. It was right after that that he gave her the instructions to go to Denver.

That was it! Her heart soared. Peter saw Jay and knew he had to do something to distract these fools before they saw her, too. That was the point in her leading them on a wild goose chase. Barbara closed her swollen eyes. She felt better knowing the whole story; she only hoped she’d live long enough to see Jay again. Her stomach threatened to revolt.

She knew whoever these people were, they didn’t really intend to make a switch—they were armed to the teeth, and they all wore bulletproof vests. She hoped Peter was wearing one, too.

“It’s time,” Steven said into a tiny microphone transmitter from above Barbara’s head, as he watched Wayne Grayson’s retreating back.

Grayson would not stay for the fireworks. “Are you in position?”

“Affirmative,” Paul answered from his post on the north side of the memorial.

“Ready,” Lorraine answered, from the south side.

“I have a visual,” Paul said. “Approaching the stairs.”

“Affirmative. How many?”

“Two.”

“Affirmative. You know what to do,” Steven said.

Peter brought Dr. Englert to a halt at the base of the second set of stairs. “I know you can see me,” Peter announced loudly. “I can see you, too,” he paused. “All three of you.” It was a gamble, Peter knew. If there were more than three, his bluff would be called. He felt it was a chance he had to take.

The Value of Valor

“In fact, I’ve got someone on each of you right now.” It never hurt to make them think you were bigger than you were, he decided. “I promise you, if you try to fire, you’ll be dead before you can finish squeezing the trigger.”

Next to him, Peter felt Englert shiver. He whispered, “Trust me, Doctor, I want you alive a lot more than they do.”

“Bring Dr. Englert up the stairs slowly,” Steven called.

“Show me Dr. Jones first.”

Steven pulled Barbara roughly to her feet and pushed her out from behind the statue.

“Unshackle her legs,” Peter ordered, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice, as he pushed Englert slowly up the steps in front of him. They had reached the top of the second rise. Into his microphone, Peter muttered, “Now, Max.”

“Affirmative, I’m getting into position.”

“You give me Jones first. Then you get Englert,” Peter called.

“No dice. We release them at the same time, they walk across simultaneously.”

Peter had been afraid of that. Barbara and Englert alone in the middle of the floor made them sitting ducks. “We each uncuff them first.”

“Okay,” Steven agreed. Into his microphone, he said, “Lorraine, you take out Englert. I’ve got the good Dr. Jones. Paul, you’ve got Enright.

Don’t miss.”

“Affirmative.”

“Affirmative.”

“You focus on Englert. I’ve got Barbara,” Peter ordered Max quietly.

“Get him down, then get him out of here—we need him—we’ve got a president to revive and a plot to reveal. No looking back, got it? Your country needs you.”

“Yes, sir,” Max answered, plainly still reluctant to leave Peter so exposed.

“Max, don’t fail me now.”

“No, sir,” Max replied.

“Good. Get ready.” Peter shifted his weight to the balls of his feet.

“All right. Uncuff her,” Peter called, uncuffing Englert as he watched Steven do the same to Barbara.

“On the count of three,” Steven said. “One, two, three.”

Peter pushed Englert forward as he saw Barbara begin to walk in his direction. He could see the tears streaming down her battered face. His nostrils flared, but he gave no other outward indication of his rage. He readied one of the Glocks.

As the two captives reached the middle of the floor, Peter saw all three operatives raise their weapons. “Now, Max,” he hissed. Peter flew Lynn Ames

forward, shooting the man who had held Barbara in the head before the man could pull the trigger. Peter was surprised to see a second bloom of red hit his target at virtually the same time. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement and realized that the second shot had come from the female operative.

Peter hurtled his body toward Barbara. A bullet ripped through his chest as he lunged desperately for her. He reached out despite the searing blast of pain and cradled Barbara in his arms. He dropped them both to the ground as she let out a frightened scream.

As Peter twisted his body, he saw as if in a dream, the female operative turn and fire at the man who had shot him.

On Peter’s order, Max charged forward and dove for Englert, throwing him to the ground. He was shocked when no shot came. He looked up in time to see the female operative aim and fire twice—once at the man next to the statue and a second time a moment later at the operative on the opposite side.

Seeing Peter go down, Max scrabbled toward him before he remembered his responsibility to keep Englert safe. “Boss!”

Lorraine ran toward Peter. Max raised his gun at her, then lowered it when she lowered her weapon.

“I’m with the Company,” Lorraine shouted. “I’m on your side. Get Englert out of here.”

Max reluctantly obeyed.

“You okay?” Lorraine asked Barbara, who was wedged underneath Peter.

Barbara nodded, too shocked and terrified to speak. Peter’s blood soaked her shirtfront.

Peter’s vision swam. He saw faces and shadows, as he labored to breathe. It felt as if a piano had been dropped on his chest. As the female operative rolled him off Barbara and onto his back, he noticed a blurred figure raise a gun from the shadows a short distance away.

Peter blinked to clear his vision, and for a second, the figure resolved itself into another man—not Max. He tried to warn the woman but couldn’t speak. He felt the weight of the Glock he still held loosely in his right hand, raised his arm with his last ounce of strength, and fired once.

Lorraine spun around to see the Viper collapse, a bullet in the center of his forehead. “Nice shot,” she breathed, her heart pounding wildly.

Peter, already unconscious, with blood dripping from his mouth, never heard her.

The Value of Valor

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

s the taxi pulled up to the Lincoln Memorial, Kate saw two men A running the opposite way. Without thinking, she took off running, pulling the gun from the back of her jeans as she went.

“Stop!” she yelled. “Stop or I’ll shoot.”

“Kate!” Jay screamed, still trying to extricate herself from the back of the cab.

The men stopped dead. The bigger of the two said, “Kate? Kate, it’s Max. It’s okay. Don’t shoot.” He was stunned. He knew Kate was supposed to be safely tucked away in New Zealand. Peter would be furious to know she was here.

“You’re going to have to do better than that,” Kate said, her voice shaking with tension as she approached the men.

Max groaned. “Kate, there’s no time. I swear to God it’s me. I don’t want to have to save your butt again. Peter will kill me.”

Kate laughed with relief. Kevin came running up alongside her. “It’s okay.” She put her hand on his arm. “He’s with us.”

“Anything you say, mate,” Kevin said, huffing.

Max dragged Englert over to where Kate and Kevin stood. Holding Englert by the collar, he used his other arm to hug Kate.

“God, it’s good to see you,” she said, her voice shaking.

“You too.”

“What’s happening?” Jay said as she halted next to Kate.

Max smiled at her. “I’ve got to get Dr. Englert out of here.” He looked directly at Kate, his eyes red and bloodshot. “It’s a bloodbath, Kate.”

Her heart flipped. “Peter? Barbara?”

Max inclined his head in the direction of the memorial.

Without another word, Kate took off running again.

“She’s going to be the death of me,” Kevin said, as he and Jay turned to follow her.

As Kate reached the top of the steps, her heart stopped. It was a hideous tableau, with bodies strewn everywhere. She watched in horror as a man emerged from the shadows, his gun pointed at a cluster of three people on the ground, one kneeling, two prone. She recognized the Lynn Ames

emerging man as one of President Hyland’s Secret Service agents. She wondered if he was on their side, too. As she raised her own weapon, unsure what to do, she heard the cough of a silenced pistol, and watched the agent crumple to the ground.

The shot had come from one of the figures on the ground. Looking closer, Kate realized it was Peter. For a brief instant, she was frozen in place, her legs unable to carry her forward, her mouth working but no sound coming out.

Kevin reached her side, realizing right away that she was in shock.

“Don’t move,” he yelled to the woman kneeling over Peter, although he noted that she had no weapon in her hand.

Lorraine, who’d been about to see to Peter’s wound, froze.

“Who are you?” Kevin asked, shielding Jay behind him so she couldn’t see what was going on.

“Lorraine King, I’m on your side.” She hazarded a glance at the man holding the gun on her, gasping with surprise when she saw a woman she recognized as Katherine Kyle standing next to him, a gun held loosely in her fingers. She nodded at Kate. “You’re Katherine Kyle. Boy am I glad to see you. Dr. Jones could sure use a friend right now.” She tipped her head in the direction of the woman to the side of Peter. She was covered in blood and clearly in shock.

“What do you say, love?” Kevin murmured to Kate. “Is she the real deal?”

Kate, still stunned, was momentarily unable to respond.

Before anyone said another word, Jay broke free of Kevin’s restraining arm and ran forward. “Barbara,” she gasped, seeing her friend’s battered face and bloodstained shirt. She reached Barbara’s side, dropping to the floor next to her to cradle her head.

As soon as she did, Kate recovered, running forward herself.

Kevin shrugged, saying to no one in particular, “I guess she’s legit, eh?” He, too, joined the others.

“He’s hit bad,” Lorraine said grimly. “We’ve got to get help.” She noted the small entry wound in his chest and the more significant hole in his back where the bullet had exited.

“Here, let me see,” Kevin said, nudging her out of the way. As he examined the hole in Peter’s chest, his mind flashed back to a similar scene, only the victim then had been his brother. Kevin closed his eyes, swaying.

“Are you all right?” Lorraine asked.

Kevin opened his eyes again, shaking off the vision. “Yes, sorry about that.”

“We’ve got to get him to a hospital,” Kate said desperately.

The Value of Valor

“We can’t take him to a hospital—they’ll be looking for him,”

Lorraine said. “I know a place. It’s a private clinic the Company uses for its deep cover operatives. Best surgeons in medicine today.”

“How do we know it’s not part of the Commission’s network?” Jay asked.

“I’ve been undercover with the Commission for years. We can trust the people at this clinic. If we don’t move soon, he’ll die,” Lorraine said, feeling for Peter’s pulse. She reached inside her jacket and produced a cell phone, dialed a number, and spoke quietly into the mouthpiece. “A team is on the way,” she said, looking at the grim faces around her and putting her hands on Peter’s chest to help Kevin stem the steady flow of blood.

“Thank you,” Kate said, looking at her with anguished eyes. She held Peter’s head in her lap, stroking his hair, talking to him quietly. “I’m here, Technowiz. We all are. Please, you’ve got to stay with us. We need you.” Her vision clouded over with tears, her voice choked with emotion.

“President Hyland needs you.”

Lorraine’s head snapped up. “President Hyland is alive?”

Kate looked at her, surprised. “I thought you said you’ve been inside the Commission for years.”

“I did,” she said, her mind mulling over this new development, “but they keep everything compartmentalized—information is on a need-to-know basis. I was tasked with coming after you,” she nodded at Kate. “I was never told anything about the president.”

The sound of screeching tires pierced the air.

“Thank God,” Kate murmured. “Hang in there, Peter. Don’t you dare go anywhere on me, you hear?”

Barbara, who had been staring straight ahead, was roused by the loud noise. Jay looked down at her as she started to sit up.

“Hi there,” Jay said, smiling through tears. “Welcome back.”

“Jay,” she whispered, reaching her fingers out to touch Jay’s cheek.

“Peter hinted…” The mention of Peter’s name brought everything back with stunning clarity. “Oh, my God.” She shrugged Jay off, crawling forward on her knees to reach Peter’s side. She knelt next to Kevin, putting expert fingers on Peter’s carotid artery. “Pulse is extremely weak.”

“Welcome, Doctor,” Lorraine said, smiling across Peter’s body at Barbara. “Glad to have you on board.”

Barbara nodded at her, as she listened to his labored breathing.

Four men in plain black jackets ran up the steps carrying a gurney and paramedic bags. Barbara, now fully functioning and in command, called out information. “I’m Dr. Barbara Jones. Patient presents with a gunshot wound to the left chest; significant, but not heavy blood loss; weak pulse Lynn Ames

and respiration. I suspect a left pneumothorax and possible deviated trachea to the right.”

“Are you all right, ma’am?” one of the paramedics asked, taking in Barbara’s bloody appearance, swollen eyes, and bruised face.

“I’m fine. Concentrate on him.” Barbara didn’t want to think about her own injuries at the moment.

Within seconds, Peter was loaded onto the gurney, as the lead paramedic inserted a large bore needle into his chest between the second and third ribs on the left side. There was an audible hiss. “Respirations are moderately improved,” he called.

“Intubate him,” Barbara ordered, as a second paramedic inserted a tube in Peter’s mouth and down his trachea. A third started the oxygen that would be attached to the tube, while the fourth paramedic belted Peter onto the gurney. Together two of them lifted the stretcher, hustling it down the stairs as the others ran alongside.

Jay was terrified by all the medical jargon and procedures. “Is he going to be all right?” she asked Barbara.

“I hope so, honey.” Barbara endeavored to explain. “All indications are that he’s got a collapsed lung. He was having a lot of difficulty breathing—that’s what the tube is for. The needle was to relieve pressure in his chest cavity caused by blood and air seeping in through the wound.

That’s probably a lot more information than you wanted, but sometimes I think it’s better to know than not to know.”

“Thanks, Barbara,” Kate said.

They were all quiet for several moments as they raced along behind the gurney.

“Grayson will kill the president as soon as he knows the exchange went sour,” Lorraine said, able to think more clearly since being relieved of responsibility for keeping Peter alive.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Kate said, her jaw set resolutely. “How much time would we have?”

“Hard to say,” Lorraine answered. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed another number as they ran. “King. I need a cleanup crew now.

Lincoln Memorial.”

“What was that about?” Kate asked.

“It will take Grayson longer to figure out the operation was blown if there are no bodies to find.”

“Oh.” Kate bit her lip, torn between her need to stay with Peter and her duty to save the president. She knew what Peter would want her to do. “Jay, I need you to go with Peter.”

“Of course, we’ll all go.”

“No, honey. We can’t.” Before Jay could protest, Kate added, “The Commission still doesn’t know about you. You’re our secret weapon…”

The Value of Valor

“You’re going after the president.” Jay’s voice was almost a whisper.

Kate squeezed her hand. “I have to, Jay. Please understand.” She looked deeply into Jay’s frightened eyes.

“I do,” Jay said softly.

Kate squeezed her hand. “That’s my girl. Find a fax machine—send Trish what you have—you can explain it all to her over the phone from the clinic. There’s no time for you to get to New York. We have to get the story out right away. It may be our only chance…”

“I’ll do it,” Jay said, her heart pounding.

Kate turned to Barbara. “Are you okay to go with Jay? I’d feel a lot more comfortable knowing you were overseeing Peter’s care.” Her voice broke.

“I’ll take care of it.” Barbara’s head was pounding from the concussion, and her ribs ached from breathing deeply as she ran, but she would not let Peter down.

“Kevin, you, Lorraine, and I have a date with the president,” Kate said.

“I don’t want to rain on your parade, love, but how are we going to find him?” Kevin asked.

“Max has Englert. Englert’s the key. We just have to find them,” Kate answered.

When they arrived at the plain black van, Kate pushed her way past the paramedics to get to Peter’s head. She leaned close to his ear, her hand smoothing his hair. As tears coursed down her face, she whispered,

“Don’t worry, Technowiz, I’m going to finish the mission, I promise.

You hang in there. Don’t do anything rash while I’m gone.” She swallowed hard. “I’ll see you in a little while.” She kissed him on the forehead and moved away.

Jay took Kate into her arms. “He’s going to make it, honey. I know he is. Barbara and I will take good care of him.” She looked up at her lover, smiling weakly. “You just take care of yourself.” She paused, then added,

“Come back to me, Kate. I love you.”

“I will, sweetheart. I promise.”

“That’s good enough for me.” Jay pressed Kate to her so that they were connected all along their lengths. She kissed Kate hard on the mouth. “There’s more where that came from.”

“In that case,” Kate swallowed, regaining her equilibrium, “I’ll definitely be back.”

As the van sped away, Lorraine said, “I have a car. It’s on the other side of the memorial…” Her voice trailed off as a cell phone rang.

After a second, Kate realized it was hers. “H-hello?”

“Kate? It’s Max. I saw the van leave. Is he…is he going to be okay?”

Lynn Ames

“Hard to say. He’s tough, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“You’ve got Peter’s phone?”

“Yeah, he made me take it before…well, before.”

“We’ve got to get to the president, Max. Lorraine says Grayson will kill him.”

“I know where he is, and we’ve got Englert. I’ll pick you up in a second. Stay where you are.”

In seconds, a nondescript sedan pulled to the curb, the driver’s side door flying open. “Come on,” Max called. “Get in.”

There was a somber silence in the car as Max navigated through D.C.

streets at top speed. After a few minutes, he looked in his rearview mirror at Lorraine. “I didn’t get a chance back there to say thank you. I’m guessing you’re the reason Englert didn’t get shot at.”

“Yes, he was my assignment.” She looked at Englert, who sat between her and Kevin, his hands cuffed once again. He hadn’t said a word since the exchange. “Dr. Englert, the Commission wanted you dead because you knew too much. You’re lucky you had Max and Peter to protect you.”

“Somehow, I don’t feel very lucky.”

“How did you get mixed up with the Commission, anyway?” Kate asked from the front passenger seat.

Englert shrugged, clearly embarrassed. “I was careless with a patient during surgery once. He was a very famous person; he died because of my mistake. I was an up-and-coming surgeon—regarded as one of the best in my field. I was going to lose everything—my license to practice, my house, my car, my savings. Wayne Grayson came along and offered to make it all go away in exchange for certain favors. I didn’t see another way out at the time, so I said yes. I had no idea what kind of Faustian bargain I was striking. I didn’t know that someday he would blackmail me into harming the president of the United States.”

“Doctor, you told the boss that you know how to reverse the poison, right?” Max asked.

“Yes.”

“Where do we find you the drugs to do that?”

“I have them stored in a hidden safe in the president’s treatment area.”

Kate turned and raised an eyebrow at him.

“I told you,” he shrugged again, “I never wanted to harm the president. I secretly hoped I would have a chance to administer the antidote, but I was always being watched. I’m no hero like all of you—I didn’t have the courage to risk my life.”

“You’ll have a chance to be a hero now, Doctor,” Lorraine said.

The Value of Valor

“How are we going to get in there?” Kevin asked. “Presumably, this bugger has the place pretty well protected.”

“Doctor, what does the setup usually look like?”

“There’s always a nurse on duty, and three, no, four, security guards.”

“The guards are Secret Service?”

“I don’t know—I know they’re the Commission’s people—that’s all I know.”

“Grayson may have boosted the security presence by now,” Lorraine said. “Steven—the lead agent—was supposed to check in with the Viper after the job was done.”

“Who’s the Viper?” Kevin asked.

“Secret Service Agent Douglas, aka the Viper, is the man Peter killed.

He was the main contact for Grayson. When he didn’t call in, Grayson probably sent someone out to the site to see what happened. An eerily quiet scene will no doubt make him extra cautious.”

“That makes sense,” Max said. “How many additionals?”

“I can’t say for sure—it depends on just how threatened he feels. At least two, more likely four.”

“Eight of them, four of us. I like the odds,” Kate said sarcastically.

“We need a plan,” Max said.

Kevin laughed. “Take out the bad guys, save the president.”

“Works for me,” Kate smiled, grateful for the Kiwi’s laid-back approach.

“I was thinking—perhaps—something a little more specific,” Max said, also smiling.

“Max, you and Kevin cover the left interior entrance, I’ll take the right. Kate, it’s your job to keep Dr. Englert safe and get to the president to administer the antidote,” Lorraine said. “Any questions?”

“I love a woman who takes charge,” Kevin said amiably.

“We’re almost there,” Max announced.

“Showtime,” Kate said.

Lynn Ames

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

arbara squeezed Jay’s hand as technicians wheeled Peter through B a corridor and into an operating theater. “I’m going in there to observe. Will you be all right out here?”

Jay nodded, her expression fretful.

“We’re going to do everything we can, Jay.”

“I know you will, Barbara. Are you all right?”

“Yes.” She kissed Jay on the forehead. “Have I said how wonderful it is to have you back?”

“It’s great to be back.”

“I’ll see you in a bit.” Barbara squeezed Jay’s hand reassuringly one more time and walked through the double doors into the scrub room.

When she was gone, Jay went in search of a phone and fax machine.

A nurse showed her to one of the surgeon’s offices, which afforded her the privacy she had asked for.

When she sat down behind the desk, Jay was surprised to find that she was nervous. She couldn’t imagine what Trish would think after all this time. She wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans. The clock on the wall read 1:24 a.m.

Jay closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and dialed Trish’s home number from memory. She took another deep breath in an effort to calm the butterflies in her stomach.

“Hello,” a sleepy voice answered the phone.

Hearing her good friend’s voice erased the nervousness she’d felt.

“Trish?”

After a momentary pause, Trish demanded, “Who is this?”

“It’s Jay, Trish. Jamison Parker.”

“The hell it is,” the editor boomed, apparently having come wide awake.

Jay held the phone away from her ear. “Trish, please. Don’t hang up.

It’s a heck of a story. I…we—Kate and I—we need your help.”

“Look, I don’t know who you are…”

“Trish!” Jay yelled into the phone. “Who else tells you that the angrier you get, the more pronounced your New York accent is?” Jay rushed on before Trish could interrupt her. “I hung up on you in mid-The Value of Valor

sentence the day before the capitol bombing when I saw Kate on television for the first time. Trish, nobody but you and I know that.” Jay paused, holding her breath.

“Jamison Parker, if you ever go away again like that and scare me to death, I’ll kill you.”

Jay laughed, touched by the heartfelt emotion she heard in her friend’s voice. “That’s my Trish.”

“What the hell is going on? Where have you been?”

“I’m going to fill you in on everything, I promise. But right now I’ve got the most important story of our generation, and I need to get it to you.”

“I’m listening,” Trish said.

“We need to run a special edition for this—put it out tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Are you kidding me?”

“When you hear the story, you’ll understand.” Jay quickly filled Trish in on the “deaths” of Kate and the president, the plan to spur a revolution in China, the plot to elevate Wheeler and Hawthorne to lead the country as puppets of the Commission—all of it. When she was done, she sat back and waited for Trish’s reaction. She didn’t have to wait long.

“I’m on my way to the office. Give me fifteen minutes to get there, then fax what you’ve got. Call me as soon as you’ve got anything else, and we’ll add it in. My God, Jay. Only you could come up with a story like this to get me to forgive you for dying on me.”

“I’ll take out that first guard,” Lorraine said, indicating the sole agent patrolling near the door to the building. They had arrived in the underground garage at the National Institute of Mental Health.

“Everybody set?”

“Ready, mate,” Kevin said, as he checked his two Sig Sauers.

“Let’s do it,” Max said, climbing out of the driver’s side of the car.

“Ready,” Kate said.

Englert merely nodded, his eyes big and round. Lorraine undid his handcuffs. “You can do this,” she said firmly. “We’re all here to protect you. This is your chance to redeem yourself. Don’t waste it.”

Kate came around to escort him. “I promise, I won’t let anything happen to you.” She looked at him kindly.

He nodded at her, giving her a brief, nervous smile in return. “Let’s go,” he said.

Lorraine went first, dispatching the guard with practiced ease.

When they reached the first door, Englert punched in a series of numbers on a keypad. He repeated the process at a second entryway.

Kate was glad beyond reason that Grayson hadn’t thought to change the codes yet or lock the doctor out of the system.

Lynn Ames

“This is the last door,” Englert said, his voice shaking. “There’s a small anteroom; the patien…the president is directly ahead once you get through that. There are usually two guards posted in the anteroom and two in the president’s room.”

“Okay, Doctor. Stand back.” Lorraine pushed him gently backward into Kate’s capable hands.

All of them had their weapons out and ready.

“On the count of three,” she murmured. “One, two, three.” She shouldered through the door, dropping immediately to a crouch and firing at the two guards to the right.

Kevin and Max followed, mirroring Lorraine’s actions and taking out the two guards to the left of the door.

The commotion drew the attention of everyone inside. As Lorraine had predicted, four more guards appeared from the inner chamber. She shot the first one as he came through the door.

Kate, who had been shielding Englert behind her, watched as the guard went down. Over his shoulder, she saw a man she recognized as Wayne Grayson standing over the president.

“No,” Kate growled. “Stay hidden,” she said to Englert as she grabbed him by the arm and propelled him behind the door. In a flash, she was moving, stepping over two of the fallen guards and staying to the wall. “Cover me,” she yelled as she dove through the opening into the president’s room.

Grayson stopped, shocked, in mid-motion. In one hand, he held a syringe; in the other, he held the president’s IV tube.

Kate heard a bullet whistle by her ear but paid no attention. She gathered her legs under her and threw herself forward, taking Grayson to the ground.

As she rolled over to stand up, she saw the syringe coming toward her neck. She dodged to the side, grabbing Grayson’s wrist tightly. She squeezed with all her might, until he was forced to let go; the syringe fell to the floor.

“This is for Peter,” she snarled, as she hit Grayson with a right cross worthy of Muhammad Ali. His head swung to the side. “And this one’s for the president,” she said, as she caught him in the chin with a vicious uppercut, snapping his head back. He fell bonelessly to the floor.

“Remind me never to piss in your cornflakes, love,” Kevin said as he leaned against the doorway.

Kate laughed. Kevin walked over, pulled Grayson up by his shirt, and held him while Lorraine cuffed his hands behind his back. She handed him over to Max, who was just coming through the door with a frightened Dr. Englert.

The Value of Valor

Kate rushed to the doctor’s side and propelled him forward. “Hurry. I don’t think Grayson managed to inject the president’s IV.”

Englert looked down, noting that the syringe on the floor was still full. “Doubtful.” As he bent to pick it up, Kate moved to the president’s bedside.

She was surprised to see his eyes open and that he was fully alert.

“Mr. President, sir. Sorry I’m late.” She winked. “You know how those cocktail receptions are.”

Dr. Englert appeared at Kate’s side. “M-Mr. President, I’m going to reverse the effects of the pancuronium—the poison—in just a second.

You’re probably going to feel some odd sensations as your body slowly regains muscle function and your breathing becomes easier. Given the amount of time you’ve been subjected to the poison and the dosage, I would expect the recovery of function to take up to an hour. I see no reason why you shouldn’t be able to recover fully, however. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

President Hyland blinked once.

“Are you ready?”

The president blinked again.

Dr. Englert slowly injected the neostigmine–atropine cocktail into the IV as the others looked on.

Kate took the president’s hand. “You’re going to be all right, sir.”

Several minutes later, she started as she felt her fingers squeezed. “Sir?”

He smiled at her and winked.

“That’s a sight for sore eyes.”

Within an hour, true to the doctor’s prediction, the president was moving his arms and legs and breathing on his own.

“Kate,” he said, in a voice hoarse with disuse. “Thank you. You saved my life.”

“Well, sir, I had a lot of help.” She stepped aside so he could see the others gathered around. “Sir, may I present Lorraine King. She’s…”

“With the Company—CIA counterintelligence.” Normally, she would never be that specific, since technically the CIA wasn’t supposed to operate on U.S. soil. But he was the president… “It’s an honor and a pleasure to serve you, sir.”

“This,” Kate continued, “is Kevin…”

“Cathcart, love.”

“Kevin Cathcart, a friend of Peter’s from New Zealand who’s been a big help.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Kevin. Any friend of Peter’s is a friend of mine. Speaking of which, where is Peter?”

Tears sprang to Kate’s eyes before she could stop them.

“Kate, where is he?”

Lynn Ames

“He’s in surgery right now, sir,” Lorraine stepped in. “He was shot in the chest this evening trying to foil the Commission’s plot.”

“The Commission?”

“The group responsible for all this, sir. They’re the ones who poisoned you and tried to kill Kate.”

“Tried to kill you, Kate? My God, I feel like I’m in the twilight zone.

Last thing I knew, I sent you to a cocktail reception to get some information from Keith that would help us figure out what the vice president and Bob Hawthorne were up to.” He looked at Kate.

“Vice President Wheeler is serving as president, sir, and Hawthorne is his vice president,” she muttered.

“Not for long. They’re both about to be arrested for treason.”

“Yes, sir. I believe that’s appropriate. Sir?” Kate hesitated.

“What is it, Kate?”

“I’m sorry to say, Keith is dead, Mr. President. He sacrificed himself so I could get away.” Kate lowered her head. “He died a hero.”

“Get away?”

“Keith knew the truth, sir. The whole truth, which he shared with me.

The Commission wanted us both dead as a result. It’s a very long story, sir, and I’ll be happy to fill you in on all the details. But for now there are some things we need to do.”

“Like get me my office back,” the president said.

“Exactly what I was thinking, sir,” Kate answered, her eyes twinkling.

“By the way, where is Mr. Grayson? All I wanted to do was slug him when he was standing over me.”

“You could see that, sir?” Kate asked quietly.

“Yes.” The president grew pensive for a moment. “You can’t imagine what it feels like to be that helpless—to watch someone standing over you, ready to kill you, and not be able to defend yourself. Terrifying.” He shuddered before locking away the fear. “Then all of a sudden, I heard him hit the floor.” He chuckled. “That wouldn’t have had anything to do with you, Kate, would it? I could’ve sworn I saw your head pop up.”

“Me, sir?”

“Yes, you. I believe I distinctly heard you tell him ‘this is for the president’ as you popped him in the jaw. Remind me never to get in a boxing ring with you.”

“Noted, sir.”

“I just handed Mr. Grayson over to the good guys, sir,” Max said, walking into the room.

“Sir,” Kate said, “may I present Max Kingston, CERT team leader for New York DOCS and another friend of Peter’s.”

“I’m glad Peter has such capable friends,” the president laughed.

The Value of Valor

“Sir,” Lorraine stepped forward. “I’ve taken the liberty of assembling a list of names of Secret Service officers you can trust. I’d like to mobilize them now to protect you adequately.”

“Thank you, Agent King, I would appreciate that.”

“Good. They’re waiting outside, sir. They’ve secured the perimeter.”

She didn’t add that they’d removed the bodies of the eight dead security guards and arrested the nurse who was on duty when they arrived.

“That’s efficient.” The president’s eyes opened wide.

“I called them while you were recovering, sir. They’re good, dedicated, loyal men and women, sir, I assure you.”

“Somehow I trust you, Agent King. If they pass your muster, I’m sure they’ll pass mine.”

“The car is ready when you are, sir.”

“I’d sort of like to have the element of surprise on my side, if you don’t mind.”

“Yes, sir. I still think you should have protection.”

“I agree, I just don’t want the ‘president,’” he said the word derisively, “and vice president to know I’m coming.”

“They won’t know what hit them, sir.”

He thought for a moment. “Agent King?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Let’s have them escorted to the Oval Office. I’d like to see their faces when they see a ghost.”

“Yes, sir.”

“While you’re arranging that, I think I’d like to see my wife.”

“Would you like me to have someone pick her up, sir?”

“No, I’d like to go to her, thanks.”

“Sir, if you don’t mind,” Kate said. “I’d like to go check on Peter.”

“By all means, Kate. Of course. I’ll be there just as soon as I can.”

“That’s really not necessary, sir.”

“Oh, yes, it is, Kate. I’ll see you in a little while.”

Kate rushed through the door into the waiting room, where she found Jay sleeping in a chair.

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” Kate said, as she leaned over and kissed Jay lightly on the mouth.

Jay started. “Kate.” She jumped up and into Kate’s waiting arms.

“Are you all right, sweetheart?” She stepped back to inspect her lover.

“Fine. Not only that, but the president is going to make a full recovery. He’s already talking and moving.”

“That’s fantastic.”

“What’s the news here?”

Lynn Ames

“I don’t know. I’m still waiting for Barbara to come out of surgery.”

Jay bit her lip nervously.

Kate took her hand. “Peter’s a strong man, Jay. He’ll pull through.

We have to believe that.” She kissed Jay on the top of the head. “Did you talk to Trish?”

“Yeah—I filed the story, and Standislau is going to put out a special edition tomorrow.”

“That’s great. Good work, honey.” Kate hugged Jay to her.

“Now there’s a scene I love to see,” Barbara said, as she removed her surgical mask.

“How is he?” Kate and Jay asked at the same time.

“Barring any serious complications, he’s going to be okay.”

“Thank God,” Jay murmured.

“What was the extent of the damage?” Kate asked, as Max and Kevin walked through the door. She nodded at them.

“I was right that he had a pneumothorax…” She stopped when she noticed her friends’ twin blank expressions. “He had a collapsed lung.

The bullet pierced the left upper lobe, causing blood and air to fill the chest cavity around the lung. It was a matter of going in, finding the bleeding spot, and plugging it up. The bullet went clean through without leaving any shrapnel, which is a miracle.” She shook her head in wonder.

“Our Peter is one lucky guy.”

“When can we see him?” Jay asked.

“I’ll let you peek your heads in for a second. He’s in recovery right now. He’ll be unconscious for a while. It’d actually be better for him to stay out until they can take out his endotracheal tube tomorrow. The chest tube will have to stay in until the lung re-expands.”

Kate and Jay barely heard Barbara as they moved toward the door simultaneously; Max and Kevin hung back, satisfied to know their friend was going to be okay.

“What’s this all about?” asked Vice President Hawthorne as he was escorted down the corridor to the Oval Office by two grim Secret Service agents he had never seen before. Neither one of them answered him.

In the distance, he spotted President Wheeler, also being escorted toward the Oval Office. When Hawthorne caught up to Wheeler, he said,

“What’s going on? What are you doing?”

“I have no idea,” Wheeler muttered indignantly. “Nobody will tell me.”

The agents formed a phalanx and surrounded the two men. One of the agents knocked on the door. An agent on the other side opened the door and stepped aside for Wheeler and Hawthorne to enter, followed by the Secret Service contingent.

The Value of Valor

“What in the hell?” Wheeler demanded, stepping into the room. The chair behind his desk was facing the other way. “As president of the United States, I demand an explanation.”

“Now you see, that’s just the problem—you’re not the president.”

Charles Hyland swiveled around in the chair to face the two traitors.

“What did I tell you about treason, Al?”

Both Wheeler and Hawthorne stood with their mouths gaping.

“Problem, boys? What, did you see a ghost?”

“Th-they said you were dead.” Hawthorne recovered his voice first.

“Who are they, Bob? Your buddy Wayne Grayson and his crew?”

“They…I…we…” Hawthorne trailed off, completely nonplussed.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you speechless before. I’ll have to write this date down.” The president looked at the agents standing at attention to either side of Wheeler and Hawthorne. “Arrest them for treason, read them their rights, and get them out of my sight.”

Kate and Jay were asleep in an oversized chair they had pulled up next to Peter’s bed when the president walked in at close to dawn. His heart leapt with joy at the sight of the two women together. When Mimi had told him she’d seen Jay, he could hardly believe it.

Kate awoke at the sound of the president’s voice. She struggled to sit up straight. “How are you feeling, sir?”

“Much better, thank you. I’m glad to see Jay.”

“Me too, sir.” Kate smiled broadly.

The president turned his attention to the bed, where Peter lay, hooked to myriad tubes and machines. “How is he?”

“They say he’s going to be all right, sir.”

“I’m glad. Agent King briefed me on much of what I missed.” He shook his head sadly. “Unbelievable. I’m so sorry for you, Kate, for what you went through.”

“It was an honor to serve you, Mr. President.”

“I’m giving a speech to the nation in a couple of hours. Since I was never really dead, I was never really not president, if that makes any sense.”

Kate laughed, “Actually, it does, sir.”

“In my remarks, I’m going to mention your extraordinary heroism—

Peter’s, too. I’m awarding both of you the Presidential Medal of Freedom; it’s the highest honor I can bestow upon a civilian.”

“Sir…” Kate’s cheeks burned bright red.

“Don’t.” He looked directly at her, his gaze filled with gratitude and affection. “You saved my life, risking your own for the good of this nation. That’s the definition of a hero to me.” Before she could say anything else, he turned to go. “We’ll schedule the ceremony as soon as Lynn Ames

Peter is up and about. Until then, I hope you’ll take a long vacation together.” He nodded at Jay, who was still fast asleep in the chair.

“You’ve certainly earned it.”

When he’d gone, Kate crept next door, where Barbara was asleep in a hospital bed. The CIA’s doctors had finally insisted on examining her.

They discovered a concussion and three cracked ribs to go with her numerous contusions.

“Hey.” Barbara cracked one eye open when she heard the scrape of a chair.

“Hey yourself,” Kate said.

“You okay?”

“You’re asking me? You’re the one lying in a hospital bed.”

“You’ve got a point there.”

“Barbara,” Kate began, fiddling with her ring. “I…none of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t run.”

“Katherine Ann Kyle. The president wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you and what you did.”

“You wouldn’t be lying in this bed battered and bruised, and Peter wouldn’t be fighting for his life…” Kate began to cry. “I-I’m so, so sorry.”

“Kate,” Barbara tried to sit up, the motion making her dizzy. “I would do it all again in a heartbeat. What you did was really, really important.”

“I jeopardized the lives of people I love.”

“You most certainly did not,” Barbara said heatedly. “Don’t take that on yourself. Grayson and his mad henchmen did that. Not you. Like it or not, Kate, you’re a hero.”

“I don’t feel like one.”

“Better get used to it.”

“Get some sleep, Doctor.”

“You do the same,” Barbara said, as a bleary-eyed Jay stumbled into the room.

Kate wrapped her arm around Jay and led her out to the waiting room, where they both collapsed on the couch in exhaustion.

After an hour’s sleep, Barbara woke with a pounding headache. She threw the covers off, put on slippers, and walked into Peter’s room, where she sat down in the chair by his bedside. She gazed at the monitors to make sure everything was as it should be as she took his hand.

His eyes fluttered open, closed, then opened again.

“Hey, Peter. It’s Barbara. Can you hear me?”

He looked around wildly, trying to orientate himself. She put a soothing hand on his arm.

The Value of Valor

“It’s okay, big guy. Everybody’s safe. Lie still. You’re in a hospital—

you got yourself shot saving me. You’ve got a few tubes sticking out of you, so don’t try anything cute, okay? We’ll be able to take the tube down your throat out in a couple of hours, then you’ll be able to talk.

Blink if you’re understanding me.”

Peter blinked once.

“Good. See, you can follow instructions, after all.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“And you’re obviously not completely out of it, either, which is good, because I want to say something, and I want to be sure you understand me when I do. I know how you think, Peter Enright, and I’m guessing that you’ve been beating yourself up for my being taken hostage.”

She touched the side of his face, watching as a tear trickled out of his eye. “You were not responsible for what happened to me, Grayson was.

Period. End of story. So stop punishing yourself. It’s over, I’m fine, and I love you.”

She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead.

Kate and Jay appeared in the doorway. “Is he awake?”

Barbara nodded. “Hey, hotshot,” she said to Peter. “There are a couple of people here to see you.”

Barbara stepped aside so Kate and Jay could get in his line of sight.

They each took one side of the bed and one hand.

“You know, Technowiz, there are easier ways to get breakfast in bed.” Kate squeezed his hand, her face growing serious. “I-I don’t know what to say or how to thank you—for everything. You know I love you, right? Just don’t expect me to cook for you.” She winked at him.

“You know, I think I kind of like it when you can’t speak,” Jay said.

“We can say whatever we want—all kinds of mushy stuff—and all you can do is roll your eyes.” She laughed as he did just that.

“By the way, buddy,” Kate added, “you’ll be happy to know that the president—the real president was here earlier this morning to check up on you. He says he’ll come by again later.”

Peter’s eye’s opened wider.

“Yeah,” Kate said, her voice catching. “We did it, Peter. If you’re really nice to me, I’ll tell you how it came about—later—after you’ve had a chance to rest.” Kate turned her head to see Barbara. “You too, Doc.”

“As for me,” Kate fixed Jay with a smoldering gaze. “I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

Kate unlocked the door to the condo and stepped inside, surprised and touched to find Fred waiting for her, his whole body wiggling madly.

Lynn Ames

“Fred! How’s my guy?” Kate dropped to her knees and gave the dog a big hug, which he returned enthusiastically. “How’d you get here, buddy?” she asked, as he moved on to greet Jay.

Kate looked over to see a note on the table in the foyer.

Dear Kate and Jay:

We wanted to be sure you had the best welcome home ever. We hopeyou don’t mind that we took the liberty of having your place cleaned—

presumably, it is now just the way you left it.

And what would a welcome home be without a welcoming committee?

Fred couldn’t wait to see you.

Enjoy your homecoming, Charlie and Mimi

“That is so sweet,” Jay said, as she moved through the condo to their room.

“Yes, it is,” Kate agreed. For the past few months, this place had held so much pain for her. It would be nice to reclaim their home and fill it with joy again.

“I’m so glad theirs is a happy ending.” Jay said. “The first lady was so distraught. I felt awful for her.”

“They do make a lovely couple,” Kate said.

She followed Jay into the bedroom and was watching her from behind as she stood at the master bathroom sink. Unable to resist any longer, Kate moved behind Jay, her hands brushing over the denim fabric covering Jay’s ass.

“Mmm.” Jay backed into Kate’s grasp.

Pulling Jay against her, Kate lifted Jay’s shirt, running her hands across her ribs and over her abdomen.

Kate watched in the mirror as Jay threw her head back in ecstasy when she caressed her breasts, freeing them from her bra, cradling their sensual weight, running fingers and palms over sensitive nipples.

When she unbuttoned and unzipped Jay’s jeans, exposing a V of lace panties, Kate felt her own center grow hot. She grazed her fingertips over the silk, dipping down to brush a careless finger over Jay’s clitoris.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” Kate commanded. “I want you to watch me love you.”

Jay tried her best to obey, as her body was bombarded with sensation.

Kate grabbed the bottom of the shirt with both hands and pulled upward, tossing it and the already undone bra aside when they cleared Jay’s head. She filled her hands with Jay’s breasts, moaning at their softness.

Jay, watching Kate’s hands in the mirror as they loved her, bit her lip to keep from coming too soon. “You’re making me crazy.”

The Value of Valor

“That’s the general idea.” Kate bit the exposed side of Jay’s neck, making her shiver.

“Make love to me. Touch me, Kate. I won’t be able to hold back much longer.”

Kate reached one hand inside the opening of Jay’s jeans, flirting with her, watching in the mirror as her eyes went black with need. Finally, she slipped underneath the barrier of Jay’s panties, her fingers finding the wetness there. She squeezed Jay’s clitoris once, then again, before sliding her fingers inside, feeling Jay’s walls close around her, watching as Jay’s chest began to rise and fall in a rapid rhythm, her breasts swaying.

She pulled Jay’s back flush against her chest so Jay could feel the hardness of her nipples as she continued to stroke Jay.

Capturing Kate’s eyes in the mirror, Jay ran her tongue slowly across her lips, reached behind her, unzipped Kate’s jeans, and dipped her fingers inside.

They watched each other in the mirror as they exploded together, their bodies moving as one.

“I love you, Jay.”

“I love you, Kate.”

“Welcome home, love.”

Lynn Ames

EPILOGUE

ay was unaccountably nervous. “I can’t believe the president is J doing this.”

“He asked me to report, Jay,” Peter said. “I was only following the president’s orders.”

“With everything else he had going on, I guess I can’t comprehend that he was worried about my situation.”

“Why not?” Kate asked. “You know how he feels about you; it’s only natural that he would want to personally thank those who saved your life.”

“But to bring them all here to the White House for a private audience…I’m sorry, it just makes me blow a circuit. You should’ve heard Terri’s voice on the phone. She was so excited.”

Kate wrapped her arm around Jay’s shoulder. Ever since learning that the president had called Terri to extend the invitation, Jay had been walking around on cloud nine.

Jay, Kate, and Peter all looked up as the door to the East Room opened to admit a group of people.

Jay spotted Terri in the crowd, ran to her, and enveloped her in a heartfelt hug. “It’s so good to see you. I’ve missed you.”

Terri closed her eyes as tears threatened. “I can’t tell you what it means to me to see you happy. And to be here in the White House…I never dreamed…” Terri looked over Jay’s shoulder at the stunning, tall woman who watched with pride and affection. In her, Terri sensed warmth, strength, vitality, and loyalty. “You must be Kate. I don’t know how to begin to apologize…” She swallowed hard but looked Kate directly in the eye.

“Nonsense. I’ve heard so much about you, it’s a great honor to finally meet you.” Kate drew Terri into a warm embrace. “I don’t know how to thank you for everything you did for Jay.” She felt the sudden prick of tears on her lashes.

“Jay is like a daughter to me, and now so are you.” Terri closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again. The strong spiritual, emotional, and physical bonds between these two were overpowering.

“What is it?”

The Value of Valor

Terri smiled broadly—she could feel Jay’s joy. “When you came to us, Jay, you were only half a person. Not only because you lacked your memory. You were missing something much more elemental. Kate is the other half of your soul. You were meant for each other, it is very clear to me.”

Kate decided she liked this woman a lot. It was easy to see why Jay felt such affection for her.

“Where’s Trystan? I want her to meet Kate.”

Terri’s eyes grew more remote, a fact not lost on Kate. Terri sighed.

“In a very short time, you managed to capture both our hearts, Jay. I think, perhaps, I am having a little easier time sharing you with the outside world than Trystan is. Give her time, she’ll come around.”

Jay sighed unhappily. “She’s not here?”

“No, she is. I’m just warning you not to expect too much from her too soon. She’s having a bit of a hard time.”

Jay frowned, searching the crowd for Trystan. She spotted her standing alone in the back. “Excuse me for a second?”

“Of course. Kate and I will just be getting acquainted,” Terri said.

“Actually, I’d like to introduce you to someone I believe you may have already met.” Kate smiled slyly, reaching behind her and tugging on Peter’s sleeve.

“Terri Lightfoot, I’d like you to meet a very dear friend of Jay’s and mine, Peter Enright.”

Peter smiled engagingly and bowed. “Dr. Lightfoot.” His eyes were twinkling as he watched a blush color her cheeks.

“I’m sorry about that,” Terri murmured. “We didn’t know.”

Peter put a hand on her arm. “I’m glad you were so protective of Jay and not in the least offended.”

Terri watched Kate’s eyes as they tracked Jay across the room. They showed caring, concern, love, and not a hint of jealousy. She nodded, pleased.

“Hi,” Trystan said awkwardly, not making any motion to hug Jay.

“Hey. I’m glad you’re here.” Jay followed Trystan’s gaze to where Kate stood talking with Terri and Peter. “I miss you, Trystan.”

For a fleeting instant, the pain was clear in Trystan’s eyes. Just as quickly, it was gone. “I see you’ve found your life again, Jay,” she said, motioning to Kate. “She’s very beautiful. I’m happy for you.”

“Can I at least introduce you to Kate?”

“Sure.” Trystan closed her eyes, willing the tears not to fall.

Jay motioned to Kate to join them. “Trystan Lightfoot, this is my partner, Katherine Kyle. Kate.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Lynn Ames

“I’m glad Jay found her way home to you. She’s very special, but I’m sure you know that.”

“Yes, she is, and I do.” Kate looked at Jay and smiled. “I know Jay misses you, and I’d love a chance to get to know you. You have an open invitation to come visit any time.”

“Thanks. That’s very generous of you. I’ll keep it in mind. It was good to meet you, Kate, and good to see you again, Jay. Take good care of each other.” Trystan strode quickly away, losing herself in the crowd.

Jay started to go after her, but Kate caught her by the arm. “Let her go, honey.”

“She’s upset.”

“Yes, she is. You can’t fix that—only time can take care of those kinds of wounds.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, the president of the United States.”

President Hyland entered, looking thoroughly regal and handsome.

He smiled broadly when he spotted Kate and Jay. “I’m so glad you could all be here today.”

Everybody scrambled to find a seat.

“I have to tell you a secret. Jamison Parker—Jay—or Alexa, as I understand you came to know her,” he winked, “is one of my favorite people in the entire universe.”

Jay blushed.

“When I heard the story of how the four young men, Tommy, Jeff, Jason, and Kenny risked their lives to pull Jay from the wreckage, I was impressed. When I learned that they were barely out of their teens, well, I was even more impressed.

“To you, the members of the Elder Council, who could have turned Jay away to avoid danger but chose not to, you have my eternal gratitude.

“Dr. Terri Lightfoot—your care for Jay’s physical and emotional well-being proves you a healer and doctor of medicine beyond compare.

“Trystan Lightfoot—I understand your friendship was invaluable to Jay as she struggled to find her way.

“As president of the United States—more importantly as Jay’s friend—I thank you and the people of the Navajo nation from the bottom of my heart.” He motioned to Jay. “Jay, would you come up here, please?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’d love it if you would introduce me to each of these wonderful individuals.”

Jay introduced the president one by one to those assembled, calling them up to shake his hand. He gave each a small token of thanks to commemorate their heroism.

The Value of Valor

When he got to Terri, he broke protocol and gave her a hug. “I understand you view Jay as a daughter,” he said in her ear. “I think you chose well.”

“Thank you, Mr. President,” Terri said, bursting with pride. “Jay is a wonderful woman. To be able to help her find her way home was as much a gift to me as it was to her.”

“I can see why she feels the way she does about you. Thank you for coming.” To the group, the president said, “I’m so glad to hear you all will be joining us in the Rose Garden in just a little while for a very special ceremony honoring some other heroes. I’ll look forward to seeing you there.”

Terri hugged Jay from behind. “He is the nicest man and so handsome.”

“Yes, he is, isn’t he?”

“If I had known I was saving someone so important, well…”

They both burst out laughing.

“How long will you be staying?” Jay asked.

“Just long enough for the ceremony, I’m afraid. Mr. Standislau was very generous in flying us all out here. We are to meet with Patricia Stanton in half an hour.”

Jay shook her head in wonder. “You’re going to be media stars, you know—featured in Time magazine. Pretty soon we’ll have to get you an agent.”

“Very funny. Jay?” Terri hesitated. “I…we’re a little worried about the publicity. What about those men who tried to kill you?”

Jay squeezed Terri’s hand. “You have nothing to worry about.” She looked up, searching the crowd. “Peter? Can you come here a minute?”

“Yes?”

“Terri says her people are worried about repercussions from the men who tried to kill me.”

“I can assure you, Dr. Lightfoot—”

“Terri, please.”

“Terri,” Peter nodded, “you are perfectly safe. The man who was behind the accident died in prison yesterday—the authorities moved him from protective custody into the general prison population. It seems the other inmates didn’t like him very much.” He winked. “The ex-convict he hired to carry out the plot and the two men who actually drove Jay off the cliff were arrested by the FBI last week.”

“Wow. That’s great. Then Jay has nothing more to worry about.”

“No, she doesn’t, and neither do you. Accept the accolades and attention—you deserve it.”

Lynn Ames

The awards ceremony was held in the Rose Garden. Kate, Max, Kevin, Lorraine, Barbara, and Peter sat on the dais; the president stood in the center at a podium.

Kate looked out at the audience—Jay, Trish, the first lady, and Terri were all there. She fidgeted, still uncomfortable with being labeled a hero. Peter, sitting next to her, was equally uncomfortable, Kate knew.

They exchanged a glance as the president began to speak.

“The six people who share this dais with me today are very special.

They are all heroes in their own right. Faced with a dangerous, powerful enemy and insurmountable odds, they never gave up. Although their lives were in constant jeopardy, they ignored the perils and pushed forward, risking everything to save my life, but more importantly, to restore true democracy to the United States.”

He turned to face those seated to his left. “To Dr. Barbara Jones and Max Kingston, I bestow the Presidential Citizens Medal. This award recognizes exemplary deeds of service to this nation. Congratulations and thank you from a grateful nation.”

The president shook each of their hands in turn, handing them their medals.

“For Kevin Cathcart, who as a New Zealander is not eligible for the Citizens Medal, I have created a special citation. Your bravery in protecting Kate and helping to subdue the enemy was exemplary. I extend to you the thanks of all Americans.” The president shook Kevin’s hand.

“The President’s Award for Distinguished Federal Civilian Service is the highest honor a president can give a government employee—it recognizes exceptional achievements that are of unusual benefit to the country. It is my distinct pleasure to bestow this honor upon Lorraine King, whose undercover work inside an insidious international organization saved lives and exposed traitors. Congratulations, Agent King, and thank you from a grateful nation.” The president leaned forward on the podium. “There is a second honoree in this category—a man I knew as a good personal friend for many years. CIA Agent Keith Keniston was a great man who gave his life in service to his country. It was largely his information that allowed us to uncover this plot. I will personally miss him a great deal.” The president bowed his head before regrouping.

“The Presidential Medal of Freedom is the highest honor I can bestow upon a private citizen. Believe me—if there were one higher—I would have selected it for Katherine Kyle and Peter Enright. These two extraordinary individuals put their lives on the line to save what this country stands for—integrity, honesty, truth, and compassion.

The Value of Valor

“It has come to my attention that Peter and Kate are reluctant to accept this award—they’re not convinced they are worthy. Ladies and gentlemen, for me, being a hero means more than simply being brave, it also means being humble and selfless. I know of no two people who embody those qualities more than Kate and Peter.”

The president looked at each one of them in turn. “To Kate, thank you hardly seems adequate. You discovered the truth, you managed to stay alive despite imminent danger to share that truth with Peter, and you knowingly put yourself physically in harm’s way to effect my rescue. I present to you the Presidential Medal of Freedom. A grateful nation thanks you.”

“To Peter, I don’t know what to say to you. You were principally responsible for uncovering and unraveling an intricate plot and exposing an organization that poses a threat to the entire world. You kept Kate alive, protecting her and others who had enough knowledge to help me, at great personal risk and with nearly catastrophic results. I present to you the Presidential Medal of Freedom. A grateful nation thanks you.”

When it was over, Kate helped Peter off the stage. “You know I hate looking weak,” he grumbled.

“Listen, Technowiz, you can always be a tough guy. Besides, vulnerable men are sexy.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

“Congratulations,” Trish said, giving Kate a warm hug.

“Thanks.”

“Kate, I-I just want to say how happy I am for you and Jay. It’s great to see that sparkle back in your eye.”

“Thanks, Trish. Not to mention, of course, that you got your ace writer back.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to mention it…” Trish laughed. “If that story doesn’t win a Pulitzer this year, it’ll be a crime.”

“I hope you’re right. Thank you for running with it as a special edition, by the way. If we had failed in saving the president…well, that might have been our only means of exposing the plot.”

“Do you think you’ve put them out of business?”

“Not even close,” Kate said. “You know what they say about cutting off the head of a Hydra?”

“Cut off one, it grows two more.”

“Exactly. That’s the kind of organization the Commission is. We’ve slowed them down for the moment, but I’m sure we’ll hear from them again soon.”

“I’m sorry for interrupting,” the president broke in. “Kate, may I borrow you for a moment?”

Lynn Ames

“Of course, sir.”

The president led them along the same path they had walked that fateful night when he had asked her to meet Keith at the reception. Both of them shivered.

“Kate, have you enjoyed your time off?”

“Two weeks alone with Jay?” She laughed. “It’s been tough, sir, but I’ve muddled through.”

“I have to say, you look much better these days. You seem really happy.”

“Jay has that effect on me, sir.”

“And you on her,” he noted, watching her as she talked with Mimi in the distance. “I wondered if you were ready to get back to work.”

“Of course, sir, any time you need me to.”

“Good. Here’s the thing, though, Kate.” He stopped momentarily, biting his lip as he decided how to word what he would say next. “I’m not entirely convinced that press secretary is where you belong.”

“No, sir? Have I not been doing a good job?”

“It’s nothing like that. You’re the best there is.”

They began walking again. “Then what is it, sir?” Kate asked.

“I want to find a more…suitable position for you.”

Kate frowned. “I can’t imagine there could be such a thing, sir.”

“How would you feel about a more senior level post?”

“Sir?”

“I want to create a new position for you—I haven’t worked out all the details just yet, but the title would be senior adviser to the president.

There’s no one whose judgment or expertise I value more. You would be on a level with my chief of staff. What do you say, Kate?”

“Mr. President, I’m incredibly flattered. But you can’t be serious. I’m not qualified…”

“Of course you are. I wouldn’t ask you otherwise. Look, if you’re tied up dealing with the press all the time, you can’t be examining more global issues. I want to free you up to look at the big picture—to help me chart a strategy for this nation and this administration.”

“This will cause a lot of resentment on your staff, sir.”

“The hell with them,” he waved dismissively.

“You need them, sir.”

“I need you, Kate.”

“Sir, I don’t know what to say.”

“Why don’t you take a day or two to think about it?”

“Thank you, sir, I’ll do that.”

“Kate?”

“Yes, sir?”

The Value of Valor

“Peter asked me a question a while back before everything went to hell about Michael Vendetti being somehow tied to Bob Hawthorne. I want you to know I called him in and questioned him about it.”

“You did, sir?”

“Yes. He admitted everything. Seems he was desperate to be press secretary to the president of the United States. He was part of the Breathwaite-Redfield thing. He says Hawthorne was the ringleader.”

“No kidding.” Kate shook her head sadly.

“I fired him on the spot, and I’ve turned the information over to the authorities.”

“Thank you, sir. I’m sorry to hear all that. I didn’t think Vendetti was a bad guy.”

“I never thought so, either. I guess we were both wrong.”

They walked along in silence for a while longer.

“Sir? I’m a little worried about something—actually, more like someone,” Kate said.

“Who is it?”

“Lorraine King, sir. Her cover is blown now. The Commission isn’t going to take kindly to that. They’re going to come after her.”

“I know. That’s why I called her in this morning to offer her a position inside the White House.”

“You did, sir?”

“Yes. You and I both know we haven’t heard the last of the Commission; they’ve got people everywhere—we saw that firsthand.

I’ve charged her with coordinating our efforts to root out their operatives, starting with the FBI, CIA, and Secret Service. As you know, she’s already gotten a head start on my contingent.”

“That’s great, sir. But it still doesn’t protect her personally.”

“I’m worried about that, too. She’s mulling over taking a new identity and undergoing plastic surgery but hasn’t made any final decisions.”

Kate nodded.

“Kate, I really do hope you’ll give my offer serious consideration. I don’t make it lightly. I think you’d be a great asset in that post.”

“As I said, sir, I’m incredibly flattered. Jay and I will give it serious consideration, I promise you.”

“Do you think they deliberately double-teamed us?” Jay asked, as she climbed into bed.

“Of course they did. The strategy was for the first lady to work you over while the president was pitching me at the same time.”

“Shrewd.”

“He didn’t get to be president by being dumb.” Kate bit on a convenient earlobe.

“Mmm. So what do you think?”

“I think you taste magnificent.”

“Not about that, Katherine. About the job.”

“What job?” She licked Jay’s collarbone, sending a shiver down her spine.

“The president’s adviser job. Stay focused.”

“I am focused,” Kate said in a husky voice.

“All right, that’s it.” Jay grabbed a pillow and hugged it.

“Hey, I was busy.”

“And I was trying to have a conversation with you.”

Kate growled, finally relenting. “Okay. I think it’s amazingly flattering, it’s barrier-breaking for a woman to be at that level, it’s history-making since it’s a position that doesn’t currently exist, and I think it’s political suicide for the president.”

“Why?”

“Every Cabinet member and high level staffer would be pissed. It would kill morale and stifle productivity.”

“The first lady said the president needs you to focus more globally; you can’t do that when you’re dealing with the media full time.”

“I know, I got the same pitch. Trust me, Jay. The internal fallout would eventually have repercussions for him on the outside. I would be a huge liability.”

Jay bristled. Kate put a soothing hand on her arm. “Not because I wouldn’t be good at the job, honey, but because it would detract too much from what he’s trying to accomplish.”

“Is that it? Don’t you want to think about it more?”

Kate captured Jay effortlessly with a smoldering gaze. “Right now, love, the only thing I want to think about is you.”

Jay sighed, gladly setting the discussion aside for another day. Like Kate, all she wanted to think about at the moment was a future spent together. The details—well, they really didn’t matter.