Red Cell: Kodiak Sky Part 8

Skylar took one deliberate step forward as she stared straight into the Kodiak's closely set mahogany eyes, which were just above its moist black snout.

The bear dropped down onto all fours again, pawed the ground, bared its long fangs, and snorted loudly. And for several seconds the beast and the young woman continued staring at each other intensely, burning brown eyes to burning blue eyes.

Then the bear lurched forward with a guttural growl.

So did Skylar, immediately, with a growl of her own. And she raised her arms high above her head, to appear larger.

The bear stopped in its tracks, hesitating a few moments as it continued to sniff the air. Then it turned and loped off through the forest.

Skylar laughed, and the sounds of her amus.e.m.e.nt echoed through the trees. G.o.d, she loved this place.

When she'd finished dressing the deer, she carried the innards to the edge of the cliff and dropped them into the ocean far below. Then she raised her eyes from the waves cras.h.i.+ng onto the rocky sh.o.r.e, to the mainland in the distance through the fading light, then farther up to the gorgeous azure sky stretching out above her, which was streaked by gold and silver to the west as the sun dropped toward the horizon. She was convinced that there was no sky like this anywhere else on earth.

A familiar lump formed in her throat, and heat rose to the corners of her eyes. But her emotional reaction bothered her not in the least. She was not afraid to accept and relish her feelings when she was out here alone. This place was mystical for her, the most special place on earth. And a tremendous realization struck her as she gazed into the night sky, hoping it would be painted by a s.h.i.+mmering aurora borealis in a few hours. It was early yet in the season to see the northern lights, but she had a feeling about tonight. Her premonitions were rarely off when they were this strong.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, enjoying her solitude. Kodiak Island was the gateway to heaven. It had to be.

GADANZ'S MIGRAINE had finally eased, probably because he'd swallowed every drop of scotch in the flask again and his brain was completely numb. The headache would be back with a vengeance when the alcohol wore off. But he didn't care. Even though the relief was temporary, it was beautiful. He needed to get the flask refilled p.r.o.nto.

"What do you want me to do with them, sir?" one of the two guards asked, gesturing at the three young women who were standing in a corner of the room, chained together at the neck by collars.

Gadanz glanced at them from the throne. He'd brought them back in after Sterling left with Sophia, and watched them perform as he directed. Sizzling images, but there was still no physical reaction. He hated them for failing him again, all of them.

And they'd heard specific names as targets, he realized. Bill Jensen, Jack, and Troy, he remembered through the alcohol. "Kill them. Kill them all."

As the guards herded the women out of the throne room, they began to cry and beg for their lives. But their tears and desperate pleas did not affect him at all. In fact, they irritated him.

"And have your way with them before you kill them!" Gadanz shouted. "Someone might as well!"

CHAPTER 13.

"HI, MOM." Jack leaned down and gave Cheryl a kiss on the cheek, then moved beside Karen, who was standing with Cheryl, and kissed her, too.

Karen smiled up at him with her half smile, then placed one hand on his arm and leaned on her cane with the other.

Troy kissed Cheryl on the cheek as well, though he did not move close to Jennie Perez, his girlfriend, who was also standing with Cheryl.

Cheryl was hosting Bill's small birthday party in one of the home's ornate living rooms-even though he'd been missing for nine months. She'd invited only twenty people, just immediate family and a few close friends. The party had started an hour ago, but Jack and Troy had just arrived.

"I'm sorry we're late," Jack said.

"Me, too," Troy added.

After the fight on the porch, they'd taken back stairs to the third floor, cleaned up in separate rooms, then texted each other about coming down to the party together. Tonight was all about their mother, not them. And even though emotions were still running hot between them, they would play their parts and make sure no one would pick up on what had happened.

"It's all right, boys."

"There was nothing we could do about it," Jack said lamely, feeling very guilty. "We got caught up in something."

Cheryl was tall and slim and, despite all the gray hair that had appeared since Bill's disappearance, she still looked vibrant. She rode and took care of her Thoroughbreds every day, and those horses rarely acted up on her, Jack knew. She was a gentle soul, but down deep she had the heart of a lioness. She always tried negotiating first, but if all else failed, she was ready to fight for what was right.

She'd been the perfect mother, delicately refereeing a long line of nasty arguments between Bill and him down through the years, and Jack adored her. If Bill really was alive somewhere, and Rita Hayes had anything to do with his disappearance or was helping him in any way, he'd never speak to his stepfather again.

Cheryl smiled. "Oh, I've gotten used to it."

"I haven't," Jennie said.

Jack's gaze flashed to her. She had dark hair, high cheekbones, and full lips. She was a beautiful young woman, and why wouldn't she be? She was Troy's girlfriend.

"It's a wonderful gesture, Cheryl," Karen spoke up after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. "Having the birthday party even though Bill isn't here, I mean."

Karen's speech was still affected by the bullet to the head she'd taken in Wyoming-she slurred, sometimes so badly her words were almost unintelligible. And she still needed a cane to walk.

She'd put hundreds of hours into rehab-Jack had taken her to many of those early-morning sessions-and her dedication was paying dividends. But she'd never fully recover from what Shane Maddux had done to her.

"Thank you, honey. That's very nice of you to say. Would you do me a favor?"

"What?" Karen asked.

"It's been two months since you and Jack married. Will you please start calling me Mom?"

"Okay . . . Mom."

Everyone laughed. Except Jennie, Jack noticed.

"When do you two leave for Paris?" Cheryl asked.

"Tomorrow," Jack answered. It was their delayed honeymoon. He'd been unable to get away from the bond desk at First Manhattan until now. "We're really looking-"

Jack was interrupted by a high-pitched shriek as Little Jack, Troy's one-year-old son, tore into the room, followed by his nanny. Little Jack's mother was Lisa Martinez, whom Shane Maddux had murdered last October in a desperate attempt to find Troy and silence him about what he knew of the plot to kill President Dorn. Lisa was Jennie Perez's cousin.

Jack had taken care of Lisa during her pregnancy, because Troy was always off in some far corner of the world he couldn't tell anyone about. So Lisa had named the baby boy after Jack. Blond and blue-eyed, L.J. already looked a lot like Troy. Apparently he had his father's physical gifts as well, Jack figured. He'd mastered walking at six months, and was already sprinting everywhere while most boys his age were still wobbling around at best.

"It must be nice," Jennie commented as Troy picked up L.J. and hugged him tightly.

"What do you mean?" Karen asked.

"Having someone who wants to take you places," she answered. She glanced at Troy, then turned and walked off.

"Oh, Lord," Karen murmured. "I'd better go talk to her." She squeezed Jack's arm and then hobbled slowly after Jennie. They had become good friends in the last few months.

Jack looked over at Troy, who was laughing with L.J., seemingly unconcerned with Jennie. Yup, definitely trouble in paradise.

CHAPTER 14.

"WHAT WAS that, Stewart?" Dorn demanded as he eased down behind the desk again. "What did that aide just tell you?"

How had Dorn kept this quiet for so long? Baxter wondered. These days the media dug up everything in the first thirty seconds. This had been a secret for more than two decades, and the media still didn't know about it.

"Apparently," Baxter answered, "you have a daughter."

Dorn stared ahead defiantly for a few moments, then his head tilted slowly forward and he closed his eyes. "Oh, G.o.d," he whispered as his hands began to shake. "Oh my G.o.d."

"This is bad, sir, very bad."

"I was young, Stewart. I was young and stupid."

The rationalization machine was already in high gear. It had only taken the president a few seconds to get it rolling. Unfortunately, the situation wasn't so straightforward. There was another level to it, one that made it impossible for Dorn to control and much more dangerous. He could only react because he was at the mercy of an enemy. Worse, Dorn didn't even know who that enemy was, Baxter realized.

"I had a one-night stand after a campaign rally when I was running for state senate in Vermont years ago," Dorn continued. "It was just a heat-of-the-moment thing with some n.o.body volunteer in Montpelier. It was nothing."

"Does the First Lady know?"

Dorn shook his head. "I mean, would this really be that bad for me politically if it got out?" he asked, finally looking up.

Incredible, Baxter thought to himself, marveling at the man's ability to regroup. But would that continue when he heard the rest? Or would the president go to pieces?

"I could say I had no idea," Dorn went on. "The First Lady will forgive me, at least publicly. It's not like we're that close anymore anyway. I'll say I didn't even know the baby girl was conceived. I'll say her mother never told me. The First Lady won't want this thing to blow up. She'll want it to go away as fast as I do. We were married when I had that one-night stand. It would make the First Lady look worse than me. She couldn't keep me satisfied. I was just being a man. And let me tell you, Stewart, that woman in Montpelier was very attractive. Men won't blame me when they see a picture of this woman all those years ago, no matter what she might look like now. It'll be just like with Clinton. n.o.body blamed him for cheating on Hillary, not really."

Baxter had known many narcissists in Was.h.i.+ngton. But Dorn had quickly risen to the top of the list.

"The individual who contacted my aide claims he has proof that you've tried to contact your daughter, Shannon, several times over the years," Baxter explained. "The caller claims that you've kept in contact with the mother as well. The person also claims you know that your daughter was in Nashville using the alias Leigh-Ann Goodyear. And that she was doing very well with her singing career."

"Was?"

"Does Shannon know she's the daughter of the president?"

Dorn shrugged. "I'm not sure. I never told her. And her mother swore she never did, but how do I really know? Stewart, what did you mean by-"

"Shannon was kidnapped earlier tonight outside the club in Nashville where she was performing."

"Oh, no," Dorn whispered.

"It happened right in front of her two backup singers when they were outside on a break."

"Who could be responsible for this?" Dorn asked in a low voice. "Who could know that Shannon was my daughter?"

"It's obvious to me, sir. There's only one legitimate possibility."

Dorn winced. "Red Cell Seven?"

"Absolutely," Baxter agreed. "I thought I knew everything about you, sir. That was our agreement when I came aboard, that you would tell me everything. But I still dug deep to make sure you had. I did my own diligence. I guess I didn't dig deep enough. Apparently, RC7 did."

Dorn raised a hand and pointed threateningly at Baxter. "Don't start-"

"It would be best not to take that tack with me," Baxter snapped. "You're in no position to do that right now," he warned. "It will be much better for both of us if we work together on this, sir. If word gets out, I'll be pulled into it as well. And that's the last thing I need. So let's approach this crisis as partners, the same way we do everything else."

Dorn nodded. "I'm sorry, Stewart, you're right."

Baxter had never seen the president so shaken, evidenced by the apology and the tail-between-the-legs posture. Dorn rarely apologized, and not sincerely for anything. But he had just then. He certainly didn't look like the floor model at this moment-far from it.

"What was the idea you came up with while I was gone earlier this evening?" Baxter asked. "The idea that would negate our need to influence Justice Espinosa."

Dorn took a deep breath, trying to shake off the shocking news Baxter had just delivered. "For the moment, what I'm about to say cannot go any farther than this room, Stewart. I won't allow that to happen without consequences. Even with this situation regarding my daughter."

Baxter recognized the seriousness of the warning he'd just received. Leaking what he was about to hear to anyone would mean immediate termination, irrespective of the consequences to the office of the president or specifically to the man occupying the Oval Office. A chill snaked up his spine. This was as important as it got.

"Of course, sir."

President Dorn took several more deep breaths, and once again, Baxter was struck by the gravity of the moment. Dorn was still gathering himself, still unsure of whether or not to breathe a word of what he was thinking.

"War," Dorn finally murmured. "Civil war."

"Sir?"

"I intend to do the same thing President Nixon did in 1973. I intend to create my own Red Cell Seven, funded by private interests. And their first mission will be to take out all agents of RC7."

Another chill snaked up Baxter's spine, but this one crisscrossed his back, too. It was genius, pure genius, and he had to admire the president's creativity. It seemed that Dorn could always find an answer, as risky as this one was.

The president would wage war on a secret cell with another secret cell. There would be no money trails and only heavily cloaked reporting. The president's cell would be as invisible as RC7. If Dorn couldn't be linked to the cell, then he couldn't be linked to the order to destroy Red Cell Seven.

"I will, of course, take care of the private funding aspect of it all," Baxter volunteered immediately. "And I think I have the perfect person to lead the operational effort."

"Oh?"

Baxter had heard the cynicism. He'd whiffed on Shane Maddux, but he wouldn't whiff this time. "Trust me on this, Mr. President. You'll understand when you meet the person."

"I'll meet with the person. But that's all I can promise right now, Stewart."

"I'll arrange for that meeting to take place as soon as possible. Once you've met, I'm sure you'll agree that this person is uniquely qualified for the mission." Baxter's expression softened and his eyes took on a distant gaze, as if he was looking at something on a far-off horizon. "She has a certain quality to her that is . . . well . . . quite compelling. It's hard to explain, and I know how that sounds, Mr. President. But you'll understand when you meet her."

"Her?"

"Yes, Mr. President, her."

AS SOPHIA moved up and down, Sterling ma.s.saged her large b.r.e.a.s.t.s, tweaking her dark nipples gently, which brought forth loud, pa.s.sionate moans of pleasure from her full lips. She was so soft but so tight around him, and he wasn't certain how much longer he could hold off. He'd exploded three times during the two-hour orgy back at the compound, but he was ready again. He was always ready. The payload might not be as significant as the first time, not nearly, but the pleasure would be even more intense. That had always been true for him, ever since he'd learned to get himself off when he was eleven.