“That is obvious. We will accept no further calls from him.”
“But what’s worse,” Gold said, “if they already know Keane is dirty, and can prove it, how long before they bargain him into revealing who he’s been talking to?”
“Not long,” Carlos said. “Not long at all.” He’d already thought of that. In the course of a single phone call, Señor Daniel Keane had dropped from valuable asset to dangerous liability. Of course, what could Keane say beyond the fact that he’d had conversations with Carlos Salinas? And he had no proof that these alleged conversations ever took place.
But still, he was a liability. As was MacLaglen. They were the only two people out there who could connect the name Salinas with the kidnapping and the poisoning of the President. Carlos Salinas liked to remove liabilities from his balance sheet. MacLaglen was protected by his tape—but Keane…
“I must think on this,” Carlos said. “Perhaps we will make one more call to Señor Keane.”
6
“Yes, sir,” Decker said, and held the cellular phone toward him. “It’s for you.”
John stared at the phone. “Me?” Who’d be calling him out here, in middle of nowhere, in Decker’s car?
“Yeah. An old friend.”
John took the phone. That could only mean…
“Johnny. It’s me.”
“Tom!”
“How are you, buddy?”
How the hell did he think? “I don’t have Katie yet. But you know that.”
“Yeah, I do. But they’re closing in. Won’t be long now. A couple of hours and she’ll be safe home.”
“From your lips to God’s ear.” John wanted to ask why the call, here, just this side of noon, in the middle of nowhere. But he didn’t. He let it hang.
Tom cleared his throat. “John… I’ll be leaving Bethesda in a few minutes.” Even with the air conditioner running, the summerlike sun had kept the inside of the car uncomfortably warm.
But now John felt a chill.
“What?”
“I’ve got to, Johnny. I’ve got to show up at the drug summit tomorrow morning. If I don’t the whole program will sputter to a halt.”
“But they’ve still got Katie! You said—”
“She’s as good as back, John. She—”
“But she’s not back! We’re in the middle of the woods, Tom—the mother of all goddamn woods! They could hide her here for days, weeks!”
“You know if I thought there was the slightest danger to Katie I’d stay right here, but the plot, the conspiracy, whatever you want to call it, is a bust. This woman who’s got Katie obviously cares for her and—”
“And no doubt cares for her own life too! The only thing we know for sure about this Poppy Mulliner is that she was born in the Jersey sticks, has a criminal record, and was a party to kidnapping my daughter. The rest is all talk. For all we know she could have been stringing us along since day one, feeding us a line to help her work out a deal with whoever she had a falling out with. One guy’s already dead. She may be bargaining with Katie to save her own ass.”
“John—”
“If you suddenly appear in public in perfect health, they’ll know they’ve lost. They’ll do whatever they can to cut their losses, eliminate anything that connects them to this plot. And Katie’s one of those connections.” He was so afraid… little Katie in the hands of those soulless animals. “Please, Tom. I’m begging you. Just one more day. You promised.”
“John…” A long silence, then: “I’ve got to show up— on time, and in tip-top shape. You know what they’ve been saying about me: that I’m kicking my habit, that I’m in rehab, that I’ve had a breakdown… all rational explanations for my irrational ideas.”
“Who cares what anybody says! This isn’t talk, this isn’t a reputation that’s at stake—this is Katie’s life!”
“I know that, John. Don’t think I don’t. And don’t underestimate my love and concern for Katie. But this is bigger than you and me and Katie. This is a bunch of lowlifes trying to dictate the policy of the United States, John. My oath of office doesn’t allow me to make a choice between the country and a little girl I dearly love. If I had my way…” The cold sick fear was fading in the heat of his growing anger.
“Bullshit, Tom! Bullshit!” John found the end button and hit it. He stared at the phone a moment, then looked over at Decker who was concentrating on navigating the twisty back road to the next Mulliner on the list.
“He’s leaving the hospital,” John said. “Going to The Hague.”
“I know.”
“How long have you known?” Decker glanced at him, then back to the road.
“You sure you want to know?”
“Of course I’m sure.”
“Since Saturday.” John closed his eyes and pressed back against the headrest.
Saturday! That meant Tom had intended all along to go to the drug summit, whether Katie was safe or not. Tom… Tom of all people. He’d held Katie at her baptism. How could he… ?
John felt as if he’d been spiked to his seat through the heart. Dear God, this hurt. Still keeping his eyes closed he said, “How long before the kidnappers find out?”
“If they’re listening to a radio or watching TV anywhere in the world—immediately. Bethesda Naval is under media siege. The instant he sets foot out the door it’ll be on the satellites.”
“You heard what I told him. What do you think?”
“That it’s going to make a difference? I don’t know, Doc. I wish I did, but I don’t. It all comes down to this Poppy Mulliner, doesn’t it. If she’s been shooting straight, we should be okay. If she’s been feeding us a line… well, we’ve got to hope we get there first.”
7
Snake sat in his Jeep and stared at the cell phone in his hand.
Damn I’m fucking good!
That had been the President of the U-S-of-fucking-A on the phone just now. And he wasn’t sick. Hadn’t been sick at all. He’d been faking. The whole Bethesda Naval Hospital deal had been a smoke screen.
Damn good thing he’d thought of having Salinas get him the numbers and carriers of the cell phones the honchos in the search would be using. Also had him find out the VHF frequency the copters would be using. After that it was a simple matter of buying a couple of cell phones and reprogramming them to ring when the honchos’ phones rang. As a precaution he’d disabled the receivers so no ambient noise from his end would taint the feed.
He’d been catching the calls of a guy named Canney and a guy named Decker all morning. Mostly nothing calls… until this one.
Wow. Wait till Salinas found out. Shit, he’d be bouncing off the walls—and he had the blubber to do it.
Snake had to admit he was pretty pissed too. And embarrassed.
The doc had screwed him—hadn’t given the chloram-whatever and ratted out to the feds—all while he’d thought they’d cut off his kid’s toe! What. kind of a father was that? Man, you couldn’t trust anyone these days.
But the good news was that the feds didn’t have any better idea of the whereabouts of Poppy and the kid than he did—which meant they didn’t have his tape. Snake still had time. His options were still open. If he could reach Poppy first, get the tape, then off her and the kid, he’d be safe. And Salinas would be safe. And the two of them could both live happily every after.
Preferably on different continents.
He kept driving, mostly up and down 539, as he monitored the progress of the search—listening to the feds talk to each other via his hacked cellular phones, and following the reports from the search helicopters on his hand-held transceiver. If Poppy or her car were spotted, Snake would be among the first to know.