Blood Trust - Eric van Lustbader [14]
“We caught Commander Fellows’s call,” Willowicz said.
“So, what you’re telling me is that the commander invited you here to Fearington.”
“That’s right,” O’Banion said.
Jack could already see the changed situation dawning on Willowicz’s face.
“Fearington is federal property,” Jenkins said.
“What?” both detectives said at once.
“The federal government bought this parcel three years ago.”
Jack knew a cue when he heard it. Stepping forward, he presented his ID. “Jack McClure, Department of Homeland Security. You have no jurisdiction here. I’ll be taking over this case, Detectives.”
“Oh, you’ve fucking got to be kidding,” O’Banion said.
Willowicz said nothing because he knew which way the wind was blowing. He handed over the bags with the vial and the bloody knife.
“What’s this?” The ME appeared out of the trees. “Those are my evidence bags.”
Jack showed his ID. “Not anymore.”
“How is this homicide a matter of national security?” Saunderson looked put out.
“That’s a matter of national security,” Jack said.
“But the body—”
“I’ll take care of the body.”
The ME looked alarmed. “This is highly irregular.”
Ignoring him, Jack turned to Alli. “Uncuff her,” he said.
O’Banion took out the manacle key. “We won’t be forgetting this.”
Keeping his eyes on Alli, Jack beckoned to her the instant she was free. But before she could get to him, Jenkins intervened and, taking her by the elbow, steered her away from Jack, toward her uncle.
“What the hell are you doing?” Jack said.
“Taking my niece to a place of safety,” Carson said.
“You have no—”
“Leave it this way, Mr. McClure,” Jenkins said in a low voice. “If you take Ms. Carson into custody it will look bad for her when I go before a federal judge tomorrow.”
“But—”
“Henry is family. He’s got power and influence, which is what she needs right now.” Jenkins caught Jack’s eye. “You can see this is the best course for Ms. Carson.” He cast a glance at the departing cops and ME. “In any event, you’re needed here. If you’re taking over the case, you need to examine the crime scene as well as interview Detectives Tweedle-Dum and Tweedle-Dee before they can get together and cook up a story.” Seeing Jack’s gaze wandering to Alli, he added, “Besides, you heard what O’Banion said: ‘We won’t be forgetting this.’ I need you to ride herd on him, make sure he doesn’t make good on that threat.” He smiled. “That’s what you folks do best, isn’t it, deflect threats. So do it.”
* * *
DENNIS PAULL passed through the six layers of security to reach the West Wing, then was vetted one more time, though in a totally different way, by Alix, the president’s press secretary. Paull liked her far more than he did the president. Arlen Crawford, a big, rangy, sun-scarred Texan, had been Edward’s vice president, a marriage of political convenience that had pleased neither man. Each was strong where the other was weak, but their political ideas, and, worse, ideals, had worked at cross-purposes.
“Morning, Dennis,” Alix said cheerfully, “I see we’re all up early today.”
“Duty calls.”
She nodded. “So I heard.”
They began to walk together toward the Oval Office.
“How are things with your daughter and grandson?”
“Claire and Aaron are settling down nicely, thanks.”
“It was fun meeting them.”
“Aaron hasn’t stopped talking about you.” He laughed. “I don’t know what you did to impress him—”
“I let him wear Teddy Roosevelt’s Rough Rider hat.”
Paull nodded. “That would do it, all right.”
They were now nearing the door to the Oval Office and Alix stopped, her face suddenly grave. “Dennis, you know I’m a loyal person. I work for the Old Man, but…”
He paused, waiting and suddenly on edge.
“I just … well, I just wanted to say watch your back.”
Before he could formulate an answer, she had stepped forward, planted a kiss on his cheek, and was heading back down the red-carpeted hallway. He turned. It was deathly still. Even the faint whisper of air from the hidden vents seemed ominous.
Nestling Alix’s nugget of intel in the forefront of his mind, he rapped sharply on the thick