Mistress

Chapter 95

I leave Sean at the table and pass through the bar on my way out. I stop to take a gander at the bar’s television to get the latest updates. It’s the only thing the networks are covering.

The news reports are saying at least six are dead from the blast and dozens injured. Four cops and two Secret Service agents, their faces plastered one by one on the television screen, killed in the line of duty. That makes seven law enforcement officials dead, including Ellis Burk. Add in Jonathan Liu, Diana’s brother, Randy, and Nina Jacobs, and we’re at an even ten.

When is it going to stop?

I fish into my gym bag for one of my prepaid phones. I get it out and start to dial when my eyes wander back up to the screen.

Breaking News, the screen says, and I brace myself for yet more casualties from the explosion today.

But it’s not about the SUV. It’s not about what happened in the capital today. It’s breaking news on the international front.

Take a guess.

Threatened by the discovery of a Georgian spy in their country, and days later by an attempt on the Russian prime minister’s life by a Georgian operative, the Russians have begun amassing thousands of troops and tanks on their border with Georgia.

The UN is convening an emergency session of the Security Council. China’s ambassador to the UN is calling for multilateral talks and urging NATO to join in.

Then President Blake Francis is on the screen, standing next to his wife, the wooden princess Libby Rose, in what looks like a taped recording from earlier today in the Rose Garden. The sound is muted but the closed-captioning is on.

Our president is talking about Russia’s right of self-defense, and how NATO must proceed with caution in the face of Georgia’s provocation. Russia, like any other country, he says, cannot be asked to sit idly by when threatened.

“Shit,” I say to nobody. It’s happening. The Russians are moving forward, and we’re lying down and letting it happen. Once we let the first country fall, it will be harder and harder to justify stopping their continued aggression.

I’m running out of time.

I walk outside and dial Anne Brennan on my cell. The next twenty-four hours are crucial for the Russians. Once they invade the first country, there may be no turning back for the United States. And the Russians know that. They’ll be desperate to stop me. SUVs shooting up the capital are probably out now, after today. But finding someone I care about and threatening her? Very much in. I don’t think they know about Anne, but I can’t count on what I think.

And I admit, I just want to hear her voice. I could use a bit of comfort right now. I can smell her hair whenever I inhale. If circumstances were different, if I could even spend one more night with her-

The phone picks up before one full ring. Weird.

“Hello, yes, hello?” Anne says in a hurried, startled voice.

“Anne, it’s Ben.”

“Oh-oh, Ben. You’re-you’re not here, are you?”

My spidey sense kicks up. Something in her voice, in her reaction upon hearing my voice. And how she answered so quickly. She was expecting someone else. And she sounds worried that I might be showing up at her place.

I decide to play this safe. “No, I’m staying in Maryland tonight,” I say.

“Oh, okay.” She takes a breath. A breath of…relief? What’s going on? Why doesn’t she want me to come to her house?

“You okay, Anne?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m…I’m fine. I’m…I was just dozing off. I’m tired. I need sleep.”

She was tired, but she answered the phone before one full ring? She doesn’t sound tired. Not one bit. She sounds nervous. Is someone there with her?

“Well, no problem,” I say. “Get some sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay. Good. Tomorrow would be great, thanks.”

I punch out my phone and a wave of fear passes through me. She didn’t want me to come over. And she didn’t want to say why.

Anne’s in danger.

I rush back into the restaurant. Sean Patrick Riley has just ordered another Budweiser. He looks up and appraises me as though I’m about to kiss him.

“You sure you want in on this?” I say.

He wipes his mouth with a napkin. “I went from twenty years on the force on the south side of Chicago to chasing around cheating husbands. I could stand a little excitement.”

“I need help, Sean. This could be dangerous. This isn’t a joke. You got a gun?”

“Course I do.”

“You got cameras? Zoom lenses, that sort of thing?”

“In my car.”

“Where’s your car?”

He throws down his napkin. “Right outside.”

“Then giddyap, cowboy,” I say. “I need you ten minutes ago.”