“What is it?”
“It’s Matthews, sir. He’s gone.”
“Already? That’s great news, surely?”
“No, Mr. President — you don’t understand. He’s alive. He’s just… disappeared. I spoke to Julius Jones over at Langley. He said Matthews left carrying a briefcase a few hours ago, saying he’d be back later today. Jones said the whole thing didn’t sit right with him, so he went to Matthews’ office to look around. The entire room had been cleared out. Every piece of paper in there — gone.”
Cunningham stood quickly, sending his chair rolling away behind him. He pointed a finger at Heskith, his anger overshadowing any sense or reason. “You find him, Gerry — do you hear me? Find him!”
Heskith nodded, holding his hands up defensively and taking a subconscious step away from the desk. “We’re doing everything we can, sir. I’ve spoken to our new… contractor — he’s tracking him down as we speak.”
Cunningham sighed and paced back and forth behind his desk. “He had everything, Gerry. Do you understand? Everything. This Adrian Hell business is one thing — the information he has is cause for concern, I know, but we’d be able to explain it all away in time. But Matthews has everything. In lots of detail. If he gets a sudden bout of conscience, we’re finished.”
“I understand, sir. Leave it with me. It’s best you don’t know any more about this.”
Cunningham let out another long sigh before sitting back down. He could feel the tension building between his eyebrows just above the bridge of his nose. He used a finger to quickly massage away the beginnings of a headache. He looked up at Heskith. “Fix this.”
The chief of staff nodded and left without a word. President Cunningham leaned back in his chair and stared blankly at his desk once more.
After a tense couple of hours, Cunningham had retired to the residence early. His anger and concerns had eventually given way to butterflies ahead of the history-making events that were only a few hours away.
He sat facing the fireplace cradling a glass of brandy in his hand and staring thoughtfully at the flames. The smell from his glass was strong but not unpleasant. Brandy was one of the few luxuries he allowed himself. He gave up his life to politics knowing his destiny was always to be exactly where he was, doing exactly what he was doing. He had seen it so clearly from a young age. He had foregone a typical childhood, having very few friends and even fewer relationships. He had no interest in getting married or having children. He just had his mission. But brandy was the exception. He had started drinking it in his mid-twenties and fell in love with it from the first sip. He kept his glass on the mantel above the fireplace, so it remained subtly warm for when he poured himself a measure — a trick one of his old college professors taught him.
He cradled his tumbler, occasionally sipping at the expensive amber fluid. Next to him, the day’s newspaper lay on the mahogany table in the glow of the lamp, waiting to be perused.
But he couldn’t focus on reading. All he could think about was what the world would look like tomorrow, and whether or not there would be any more surprises that could threaten everything he had worked for before then.
The business with Matthews had really angered him. And worried him. He knew Heskith would handle it, but that wasn’t the point. The risk of exposure was massive, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that his luck might run out before tomorrow.
He took some deep breaths and another sip of his drink, trying to relax. He wasn’t there yet, but he was in the home stretch. He checked his watch and smiled.
Just under four hours to go.
20
Caesar’s is incredible! I’ve never stayed anywhere as nice as this. The suite Ruby booked is a premium deluxe something-or-other in the Centurion Tower, with a view of the ocean from the room. There are two queen-size beds facing a large TV screen and a section of the suite that consists of armchairs and a low table, like a lounge. The bathroom, on the left as you enter the suite, is wall-to-wall marble. Cold, yet opulent.
Ruby lay on one of the beds, resting. That bullet must have really shaken her — she’s not taken her clothes off once since we got here…
I’ve been pacing up and down the room pretty much since we arrived earlier this afternoon. We’ve kept a low profile — we haven’t ventured out of the suite once, and we’ve ordered room service when we’ve needed food or drink.
Tomorrow, with some luck, Jonas Briggs will arrive and we can finally start planning this thing. I feel like I’ve been trapped in some kind of purgatory — every time I look forward, something crops up behind me and keeps me rooted to the spot. I’ve been running for weeks now, and I’m fast-approaching the point where I’m ready to just stop, turn around, and shoot whoever’s chasing me.
“Will you sit down? You’re giving me a headache.”
I’m standing at the window, looking out at the balcony and the city beyond, all lit up and bustling with activity below. I glance over my shoulder at her and smile apologetically. “Sorry. I’m just anxious.”
“Well, learn to relax a little, would you?” She reaches over for the remote and clicks the TV into life and settles for the first thing she finds, which looks like some kind of sitcom. She pats the bed next to her. “Come on, sit down. Enjoy.”
I look at the space beside her and raise an eyebrow.
She sighs. “I’m not going to eat you — man up, will you?”
I roll my eyes, move around the bed, sit down, and rest against the plush headboard. I let out a deep breath and close my eyes for a moment.
“Attaboy,” she says. I can hear the smile in her voice. “Now…”
Her hand rests on my leg, high up my thigh. My eyes snap open, I spring to my feet, and stare at her. She starts laughing.
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”
I shake my head and run a hand through my hair. “Look, it’s been hard enough what with you flashing me every two seconds…”
She raises an eyebrow. “Has it now? There’s hope for you yet, Adrian!”
Her playful smile does little to help matters. “What? No, not like that… Just… okay, look — I’m on the edge, alright? I’m this close to losing my fucking mind! I have to kill the president, and the entire country is gunning for me. I’ve not taken one step toward getting this fixed, and people are depending on me. I’m sick and fucking tired of running. I just want everything simplified and broken down. I want to be pointed in the right direction and told where to shoot. That’s it! I don’t need any more drama or temptation or fucking anything getting in my way. Just…”
I run out of words. My breathing’s fast, yet heavy. I feel a surge of adrenaline in my veins. I feel my breaking point. Everything just spilled out of me, triggered by the slightest push.
What the hell…?
Compared to some of the shit I’ve been through in my time, and despite what’s at stake, this whole situation doesn’t really feel any worse than any other. What the hell’s wrong with me?
I focus my gaze on Ruby, who’s staring at me with wide eyes, filled with — not anger… not even shock… Is it sympathy?
She stands, walks around the bed, stops in front of me, and looks up at me for a moment. She puts her arms around my waist and rests her head on my chest, squeezing me gently.
I don’t know how to react. My adrenaline hasn’t subsided yet, and I’m holding my arms out to the sides, not sure if I should embrace her or push her away.
“I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “Okay? I’m sorry.”
I slowly move my arms around her as my heart rate slows, and hold her close to me as I fight another foreign concept — emotion. I feel overwhelmed, like what I’m doing is too big. I don’t honestly know if I can do this, regardless of how much help I might have.