Death of an Intern (23 page)

M
ilo had a different set of marching orders tonight. After the game, he was to follow his mark by car. Except for the nigger, the slut, and the chippy, nobody outside her teammates approached her. Maybe she was only out for a good time, he thought. Not everybody was devious. He liked that word since learning it from Georgie, “the boss” now. He had used it on a person who done some bad work for him way back, but don't no more.

The Secret Service had trained Donna Talbot well in the art of surveillance. Everybody had his or her look, a natural body language.

Grayson said Manchester had a man watching Kat. She'd try to pick him out. Her mark was her own assignment: Ms. Laura Wolfe. Grayson hadn't asked her to keep up with the office phone calls following Morgan's lunch with Wolfe, but she still did a daily scan of the phone printouts anyway, and up jumped the devil. Wolfe had called Ms. K.A. Turner. There were no calls from Kat's office phone to Wolfe. How Wolfe got Kat's direct number was a question that needed an answer.

To her extreme satisfaction, she quickly spotted Manchester's man. A chunky fiftyish in age, he had probably been well-built in his younger years. He still had a toughness to him, dead eyes and a bland expression. He fit in well with the crowd except for his dress shoes.

The game was winding down. There had been a lot of scoring. Grayson was constantly exhorting her players, yelling instructions, and playing well at bat and in the field.

She traced where he was looking, and saw Wolfe and a fortyish white guy, probably her husband, sitting on a blanket. MPD Captain Walsh had joined them along with a young female who fit the description of Rausch's roommate, Marsha Hines.

Donna needed to talk to Hines. She didn't like seeing a lawyer, a reporter, and a high-ranking cop associating with someone who had been close to Rausch.

Milo didn't like it when the young chippy from the other night left with the white guy. Not because he didn't want him to get laid, but because it left the nigger alone with the tramp. His gut was burning with tension. He wished she really was trash, but she was good looking, showed some class. He was working himself up. He felt a broad like that should know better. Maybe she needed to be taught a lesson.

Donna Talbot saw that Manchester's man had moved away from the backstop. He stood swinging the side of a fist into the palm of his other hand, like he was priming for action. His lips were tightly closed, jaw set. He looked upset. Maybe he was anxious for the game to end, or he had gas. Who knew? He had his mark. She had hers. She'd have to lay back, be extra careful tailing Wolfe. She imagined Walsh was a good watchdog.

Talbot saw Wolfe stumble as she got up off the blanket she had been sitting on. Walsh caught her and held on, talking to her. She shook her head and it looked like she gave him a hug.

Grayson ought to be happy; they trounced their opponent. The team rallied around her and cheered
who do we appreciate,
then players from both sides shook hands. Talbot turned her attention back on Walsh and Wolfe as they ambled toward 17th Street.

Milo could puke, them hugging each other like that. He wanted to bust the black. This whole thing had him too distracted. He exhorted himself to get back on track. He felt more together by the time he reached his car on 17th. He would catch up to his little bird and get back to business.

His car wasn't the one he used with the boss. This old model was his personal work car. It ran smooth and, being an old model, made it
almost
invisible. People didn't know or remember the make of a late-eighties model car.

K
at, Max, and I watched Grayson head off to the southwest gate of the White House. We then walked to the corner of 17th and New York, heading for Max's cruiser. With the new security, even he had to park a block away. Jerry had been luckier.

“Did you know Linda Grayson?” I asked Kat casually.

“Not really,” Kat said offhandedly. “We'd met once at the twins' thirty-ninth birthday party when he was a senator. It's amazing life's twists, isn't it? A year and a half later, he was elected Vice President. Without the accident, he might have run for President. I never thought he would take second position. I'm glad for him that he did. It got him going again. Gave him new goals.”

I smiled. “You really admire him, don't you?”

“Very much,” Kat said pridefully.

“Jerry and I met him for the first time at the party for his parents. Do you go to a lot of social functions?”

“Only if told to. The younger gals get a big kick out of it. I've been around here six, seven years. One party is just like the next,” she said dully.

“What, do they set up a rotation so one of the girls is like the VP's date?”

“Tina, Brenda, Lisa, and I don't. Lisa seems to want to, but hasn't been assigned.”

“Assigned? That leaves Sarah, Alma, and Janet. Or did.”

“Right now, it's just Alma. Sarah's gone.”

“Oh?” I appreciated her candor. “When did that happen?”

“Late last week.”

“She get another job?”

Kat nodded. “In Atlanta.”

“Do you keep up with her?”

“Not so far. She must have changed her cell phone number or something. I haven't been able to reach her. Actually, she'd been fired.”

“Oh, that's too bad.”

“Yeah. She liked it here and was hoping to get a career going. She'd made some mistakes earlier in her life. I don't know a lot about her, but she came from a pretty bad family situation. She was looking at this as a chance for a fresh start.”

We were only about halfway down the block; the others had gone way ahead.

“Do you know George Manchester?”

“I know who he is.”

“He's a known philanthropist. I hear he's a big help to the Graysons.” I realized I was entering dark waters, but what I could learn outweighed the negative.

“He raises money, big money.”

“You knew Beth Carr?”

“Still do, she plays on our team.”

“She used to work in your office didn't she? Did she get fired too?”

“Why are you asking me about Beth? She's around, going to the Sports Bar, I think. Ask her,” Kat said irritated.

“Oh no, I'm sorry. I got off track. We were talking about Mr. Manchester. I had heard he was into helping people with problems. I just thought that if Beth or any of you had had a problem, he might have been someone to go to for help.”

“I never heard of Beth having a problem. She went to a better job. As for Mr. Manchester, he raises millions for the Party, and for Mr. Grayson. I don't see where he would have had anything to do with Beth, or Sarah, for that matter,” Kat said irritated.

Sarah? Manchester and problems went hand in hand.

Max interjected. “Hopefully, Jerry and Ms. Marsha are getting some good food together for us.”

I was thankful for Max's rescue. “What you mean is will there be normal food, other than my kind?”

He chuckled. “Something like that.”

“Max is talking about all the new foods I have to eat now that I'm pregnant.” I had the urge to bring up Janet, but decided to see where Kat was emotionally.

“Is that a big change? Scott and I want a family.”

“It is when you ate what I ate.”

Max laughed, breaking the tension. I laughed. Kat did too, a little.

“I want a healthy baby. Did Janet have the same problem, or did she eat good things normally?”

Max cleared his throat.

“I don't remember Jan saying anything about food or diet.”

Okay, so Kat knew early on Janet was pregnant. “She seemed pretty healthy that one time I saw her at the reception.”

“She got a little tired,” Kat said sadly.

“Was Sarah pregnant?” I was sorry I asked as soon as it came out of my mouth.

“Why do you think Sarah was pregnant?”

The old newspaper attitude kicked in. “She was, wasn't she?”

“I don't want to talk about it. Maybe this isn't such a good idea.”

“Oops, I'm letting my other life creep in. I'm sorry.” Damn, I had gone too far. I hadn't stayed with my initial plan. I let my inquisitive media persona come out.

“No. I can't risk it.” Kat abruptly turned and stepped off the curb between two cars. A passing motorist's horn blared, stopping her.

“Kat. Wait. Please,” I called out. “I'm worried for you.” I stepped between the cars to where she stood.

She remained upset. “Why? I do my job. I like my job.”

“This is no place to talk. Please. Max's car is in the next block,” I pleaded.

“I'm just over there,” Max pointed, standing alongside me. He whispered to me. “Enough for now.”

I nodded slightly, but Kat turned to cross the street. “Kat, please!”

“No.” She was about halfway into the street, when she turned back to me. “Why can't you leave the Graysons alone? They are wonderful people. What happened to Janet wasn't their fault.”

I moved closer to her. “I'm not saying it was.”

Max watched Laura and Kat from between the parked cars. This wasn't working out well. He decided he needed to intercede and stepped out into the one-way street, glancing to his right as he did so. He saw a car coming at them with its headlights off. It was accelerating, coming on fast.

“Laura! A car! Get off the street! Kat, get between the cars!” He yelled.

The intern had turned to see and backed up against a parked car. Max stepped out more and waved at the oncoming driver, hands over his head. Horror struck him. This was intentional.

“Run! Fast!” He drew his gun, Laura ran to Kat, grabbing her arm and pulling her toward a break between cars.

The speeding vehicle was closing in on them.

“Hurry, Laura!” Max yelled, drawing a bead on the speeding car bearing down on the women.

The car sideswiped the parked cars, just before reaching Laura and Kat. Max fired. His bullets bore into the car. The driver's side window blew out. The car never made the curve at 18th Street and plowed into a light pole and a tree.

The explosion from the crash echoed through the canyon of office buildings. A fireball lit up the night like it was day.

He ran to where he had last seen Laura and Kat. A car was slowing as he crossed the street. He flashed his gun and badge at it, but kept moving. The car stopped. He saw Kat sprawled across the back of one car and Laura down between cars.

He punched in 911 and pinned on his badge. As he reached Laura and Kat, two women were running toward him on the sidewalk.

“Two women down. I'm MPD. Could use some help.” He recognized one to be Beth Carr. “Do what you can for them. I'll get more help.” He turned back into the street. His only thoughts were getting them to a hospital fast.

“Oh my God, Annika, it's Kat!” he heard Carr cry. “She's on our team. She's in bad shape.”

He waved down an SUV. “We need help…need to get two folks to a hospital, fast.”

“Okay. We need more people?” the SUV driver asked.

“Yeah. We can't wait for EMS, unless…”

“This one seems okay,” Carr said, leaning over Laura. “Miss?”

“Damn, I hurt. Where's Kat?” He heard Laura groan as he joined Kat's samaritan. “She'll bleed to death unless—”

“Here,” said the woman who Carr had called Annika, who was pulling off her T-shirt. “We can make tourniquets.” She began ripping the shirt into strips and handing pieces to him. He feverishly worked to stem the flow of blood.

“How's Kat?” Laura gasped.

A woman ran up carrying a first-aid kit and blanket. “Can I help?”

“Donna. Great,” Carr called out. “It's Kat. She's in bad shape.”

“I'm Donna Talbot, Secret Service,” she said to Max, while opening the kit.

“She's losing a lot of blood,” Annika said. “Concussion, fractures, maybe internal bleeding.”

“I'm MPD, Agent Talbot. Take over here. How's Laura?” he asked, moving to her.

“Seems okay, some cuts. She'll be sore tomorrow,” Carr said.

“Thank God, she'll have a tomorrow,” Max said. “She's pregnant.”

Max turned to the accumulating helpers. “Get this SUV ready to take both women. One has to go in prone.” He turned back to Talbot. “Can we move her now?”

Talbot was applying another tourniquet. “She may not make it.”

“Let's try. Give her every chance,” Max implored. “Make a stretcher of that blanket.”

“Max, take her. I'll be okay,” he heard Laura say. Carr had gotten Laura to her feet.

“You're going too,” he said brusquely and turned to the SUV driver.

“Are you ready, eh…?”

“Nick Andrews, Captain. I'm ready.”

“Let's do it. Okay, everybody, let's move her. Laura you sit up front,” he barked out.

Six stretcher-bearers plus Talbot carefully inched Kat onto the blanket and into the SUV. Carr and Annika got Laura in the front. The driver was already behind the wheel.

“Thank you, everyone.” Max climbed in the back and laid alongside Kat. Someone closed down the rear hatch. “Let's go!” he barked to the driver. The SUV started up. “How you doing, Laura?”

“Jerry isn't going to like this.”