Dangerous Secrets (39 page)

Jan and Allie stood by that vow, like
musketeers taking up the banner of truth, and it was Morgan′s fault that
she had not held up her end. That they would look for her, after so many years
of silence, was something outside of her realm of belief. No one ever looked
for her, except her mom. No matter how many years had passed Morgan still
thought of herself as alone in the world. For a small space of time, while her
adoptive mother lived, Morgan had been part of something, a family, friends,
her gymnastics partners, but when her mom died, everything went with her.

‶
Trust me, Morgan.″ Jack
broke into her thoughts. She squinted at him in the harsh light. His face was
set, still deeply detailed by the bulbs that had mosquitoes creating a glow
about them. Every once in a while she′d hear the sizzle of a bug light.
At the moment nothing passed between them except the grotesque sound.

Morgan realized she did trust him. She′d
hardly trusted anyone in her entire life. She could count the people on three
fingers whom she′d be willing to let into her life. No wonder she
didn′t recognize the feeling when it came. But it was there for Jack.
She′d trusted him since they left her house. He′d do what he said
and she wasn′t going to have to pay for it. He wasn′t going to come
by later with something she had to do to pay up for the deed. Jan and Allie
would be safe because Jack was a man of his word. Jan and Allie could be
trusted to keep the vow. Morgan felt ashamed of how well she had kept it.

***

Senator Hart Lewiston sat quietly in his
campaign office. Huge reproductions of his face graced the walls. Bumper
stickers, posters, buttons with lewiston for president were scattered about. A
computer sat on his desk and a television was mounted on the wall. It was
switched on, but he′d muted the sound. Outside the glass-enclosed office,
phones rang, people scuttled around, the place was a battle zone of activity.
For a moment he could just watch. He hadn′t had a moment to himself since
months before he officially threw his hat in the ring. From that point on it
had been at least one event every day, some days more than one. He′d
talked to labor and industry, visited college campuses, whistle-stopped across
the heartland, shaken hands with the old in nursing homes and lifted children
into his arms in kindergartens. He was tired and ready for the end. But he had
months ahead of him before the election.

It hadn′t been an easy road for Hart.
Unlike his wife, he hadn′t grown up having all his needs fulfilled. He
never wanted for food or clothes, but his family couldn′t afford the
latest fad clothes or the newest electronic toys. Yet he grew up happy. His
father had been a country lawyer and Hart idolized him, expecting to follow in
his footsteps. When he thought of his life, he never chose public office as a
goal. Then his father was made a judge and their lives took a different course.

Hart went to law school as expected, but after
graduation he clerked for a judge in D.C. before training at the Central
Intelligence Agency. The CIA made all the difference, sending him to foreign
countries on covert missions. It took him to Seoul, where he was caught and
sent to prison. Hart hung his head, remembering the nightmare of his time
there. Sweat popped out on his brow. His breath came in gasps. His heart beat
faster. He stopped the thoughts. He wouldn′t let them return. The
nightmares were over. The panic attacks were in the past. He wouldn′t go
through those memories again.

Elliott Irons, his campaign manager, came
through the door. Hart sat back, silently thanking the younger man for and
jerking him out of a dream that could occur whether he was asleep or awake.
Elliott was forty-seven, but looked twenty years younger. He had a full head of
blond hair, stood six feet tall, had been married to the same woman since the
day he graduated from Harvard Law School, and believed in all the ideals of
America. How he got into politics, Hart would never understand. Hart came from
a family of politicians, but Elliott wasn′t made in the same mold.

His family was a strain of men with so many
skeletons in their closets that to go to the can they had to negotiate for
toilet paper. Elliott′s grandfather had been governor of California
during the 1930s. He′d left a colorful legacy including some scandalous
activities involving land deals and the Hollywood movie machine.
Elliott′s aunt had caused a major scandal in the political arena when she
was discovered with a high-ranking official of a foreign government in a state
of total undress. His father was a senator, serving on some of the same
committees as Hart, and Hart had to constantly keep him from dipping into the
till. Yet these people had produced Elliott, a trustworthy young man with
boundless amounts of energy. And Hart would trust Elliott with his life.

‶
I had a great idea this
morning.″

Hart wondered if Elliott ever slept. Or did he
dream of campaign strategies during periods when he should rest.

‶
Have you been watching the
news?″

Hart nodded, glancing at the television with
its mime figures. It was his duty to follow the news, listen to what everyone
was saying. Often he used opinions for his benefit.

‶
Did you hear they haven′t
found any trace of that gymnastics champion?″

Again he nodded. This time his entire body
tensed, but Hart was too good at hiding his feelings to let anything his
campaign manager and friend said show on his outward countenance.

‶
She was in Korea at the same
time you were in prison there. I thought we could pull this into the limelight
somehow. Perhaps showing footage of her in the full arena during the Olympics
and couple that with a reenactment of the daring escape you made the night the
Americans took first place in that competition. It will tear America′s
heart out.″

Elliott paced the room like some Hollywood film
mogul with a new idea.

‶
I prefer to forget that
ordeal,″ Hart said.

‶
Hart, it′s
perfect.″ Elliott sat down in a chair in front of Hart′s desk.
‶
Right
now Olympic fever is sweeping the country. This campaign and those athletes vie
nightly for the first and second spots on the news. When that girl went missing
it would be the perfect combination. We could increase our percentage poll by
at least a point--maybe two.″

‶
We don′t need a point,
Elliott. We′ve got enough votes now to swing the election. As long as I
don′t do something rash like rob a bank or go on national television
airing dirty laundry, I′ll be president-elect come November.″

Elliott stood up again.
‶
It never hurts to
play it safe.″

‶
Elliott, when it comes to
political candidates, the public has a thin layer of trust. Either they believe
in them or they don′t. In our recent past they′ve had plenty of
reason to distrust the lot of us. It won′t keep them from voting, even if
they have to choose the lesser of two evils. I think we have plenty going for
us right now. We don′t want to kill our own campaign with
distrust.″

‶
What do you mean? Look at the
polls. If the election were held today, you′d win in a landslide.″

‶
And I′d have you to thank
for it.″ Elliott didn′t often need stroking to know he was a force
in this campaign, but Hart understood that Elliott was a push-forward manager.
He never looked back and he never stopped. He wanted to keep going forever
advancing until the race was won. Hart often thought Elliott would have been a
great coach for some sports team. They′d been friends a long time and
Elliott′s enthusiasm for winning had never wavered.

‶
We′ve got commercials
running every hour,″ Hart explained.
‶
Billboards crisscross the
country, bus and subway advertising in all the major cities, speaking engagements
so close together that any deviation in time schedule could collapse the entire
structure. People can′t turn around without tripping over something with
my face on it. It′s getting to the saturation point. Soon they′ll
notice that line they′ve drawn. The one that will make them question the
reality of the campaign promise.″

‶
Hart, you believe in everything
we′ve said.″

Hart nodded.
‶
I do. But I′m not John Q.
Public. The man on the street when inundated with information will often begin
to question it. I′m saying we need to keep doing what we′re doing,
but adding a commercial that correlates me with Morgan Kirkwood may not be the
best idea.″

‶
It would be wonderful. And
don′t worry about the public. They believe what we tell them to believe.
The good thing is it′s all true.″

Elliott left him a moment later, when one of
the campaign workers knocked lightly on the door and whispered that he had a
problem. Elliott was right on top of it. He would handle it, solve it and go on
to the next item that cropped up. Hart was privileged to have him in his camp.
He was an idea man, a visionary, a take-charge guy and a strong supporter.

As activity on the outer side of his door
escalated to a new level of frenzy, Hart pulled a phone from his inner pocket
and dialed. He didn′t want to use the one on the desk.

‶
Is it done?″ he asked
without acknowledging either his or the receiver′s identity. A second
later he disconnected the call, returned the phone to his pocket and observed
Elliott speaking into a phone in the center of the room.

Elliot′s idea wasn′t without merit.
The use of Morgan Kirkwood′s footage might add a few points to the polls,
but it would bring him back to a time in his life that he didn′t want to
revisit.

***

Morgan sat in the Jeep next to Jack. She
didn′t know where the vehicle had come from. Jack offered no explanation
and Morgan didn′t ask for one. They hadn′t talked much since
leaving the convenience store. Morgan had her own thoughts to contend with. She
wasn′t comfortable with the trust factor, but she wasn′t
uncomfortable with it either. She knew Jack′s orders would be followed.
His voice on the phone had been no-nonsense. She could imagine people flying
through doors and tires squealing as they jumped into cars and peeled rubber to
get to Jan and Allie. She was still a little nervous for them. She
wouldn′t be completely comfortable until she knew they were safe.

Jack had talked of other things while he spoke
into the phone. He hadn′t mentioned the name of the person he spoke to,
but she had listened to the one-sided conversation. Other than the safety of
her friends, Jack had spoken about a meeting. They were on their way to it now.
Morgan had to trust that if he could help Jan and Allie, he could also get her
to safety.

She glanced at Jack. He didn′t talk much,
but she guessed in his line of work silence was a matter of course. His profile
in the dark was strong, and Morgan admitted he looked better now than he had
when they were in Seoul. And back then she thought he was gorgeous. She
wondered if he still swam as often as he did when she first knew him. He had to
be doing some exercise because when he′d kissed her she felt every inch
of his body. It was just as hard as it had been in Seoul. His face had changed
though. He′d lost an almost indefinable quality of. . . freedom was the
only word she could use to describe it. He had more character lines in his
features and he moved with an air of command, but he moved inside an invisible
box. One that said,
don′t touch me.

Morgan felt a little sad. He reflected her own
life. Both of them had been changed by that trip to Seoul. Somehow she knew it
had begun there. When Jack entered a room, people noticed. They instinctively
moved aside as he passed, sensing both the danger he radiated and the aloofness
that set him apart.

Morgan knew these traits could also be a
powerful aphrodisiac. It drew her to him. Without volition, her thoughts
returned to the hotel bathroom and Jack′s mouth crushing hers. Quickly
she dashed thoughts going in that direction, but not fast enough to keep her
body from flashing hot.

‶
Why did you decide to do this
kind of work?″ Morgan asked the first question that came to her addled
mind.

‶
Tired of your own
company?″

‶
A little,″ she admitted.

‶
You don′t decide
this,″ Jack answered.
‶
You get recruited.″

‶
Who recruited you?″

His head slowly turned and he looked at her
with piercing eyes. She could even see them in the half-light of the
Jeep′s cabin. She knew he wouldn′t answer.

‶
How long have you been at
it?″

‶
Too long.″

‶
Well, you must be very
good.″

‶
I thought you said I
wasn′t doing a very good job of protecting you.″

She dropped her eyes a moment.
‶
I′ve
changed my mind.″ She looked up, but his expression was closed.
‶
If
you hadn′t been with me I′d be dead by now. And I wouldn′t
have known what to do about Jan and Allie.″

Jack swallowed. She noticed it, but that was
the only change in him. She wondered if her life mattered to him or if she was
only a job. He hadn′t said it in words, and his actions in the hotel room
resulted from anger and frustration at her withholding information from him.
She could be misinterpreting his feelings, making things up in her own mind.
Was she making too much of a simple kiss? The problem was, it wasn′t
simple. It was devastating. She couldn′t forget it and at every turn it
popped to the front of her mind, derailing her thoughts and making her intensely
interested in knowing more about Jack. Maybe she was only a job. If he
weren′t here with her, he′d be someplace with someone else. The
thought made her heart tighten a little and set her teeth on edge.