Fires of Autumn (28 page)

“Mr.
President,” she greeted pleasantly. “How’s Tracy?”

Russ
paused by her desk. “Being released from the hospital later today,” he said,
rather positively. “She’s able to walk and eat, so that’s a good sign. And
speaking of good signs….”

He turned
for Colt’s office, seeing the man inside at his desk.  He walked in and sat
down in Colt’s guest chair.

“You don’t
look any worse for the wear,” he said to Colt. “How are you feeling?”

Colt
folded his hands on the desktop. “Fine, Mr. President,” he assured him. “Ready
to get back to work.”

Russ
lifted an eyebrow. “No lingering effects?”

Colt
shrugged. “A little soreness, but nothing I can’t handle, sir.”

“How does
Casey feel about you being back to work so soon?”

Colt
glanced over the President’s shoulder where he caught a glimpse of Casey,
looking at him from her position at the end of her desk.  He smiled weakly.

“She knows
I feel fine,” he lowered his voice so Eckart wouldn’t hear him. “She supports
my return to work.”

That
seemed to be good enough for Russ, better than a doctor’s release. “I know
she’ll keep an eye on you,” he said, standing up.  His gaze lingered on Colt a
moment. “If I didn’t thank you for what you did, then please accept my deepest
gratitude. You saved my life, Colt. I’ll never forget that.”

Colt
nodded humbly. “I did my job, sir. But you’re welcome.”

Russ
nodded in acknowledgement, shoved his hands in his pockets, and made his way
towards the Oval Office.  He seemed pensive and weary, trying to cover up a man
who was emotionally exhausted. As much as the country, if not the world, liked
to look at him as being the most powerful man on the planet, the truth was that
he was human just like everyone else.  As much as he didn’t want to admit it,
the attempted assassination had him rattled. It reminded him that he was,
indeed, mortal.

“Casey,
can you join me?” he asked as he passed her desk. “I have a lot of things I
need to go over.”

Without a
word, Casey got up, collected her steno pad, and followed him into the Oval
Office.  Colt caught her eye as she was rounding her desk and she winked at him
before disappearing.   He smiled to himself, pretending to go back to work
when, in fact, he was calculating his next move. And it all depended on Eckart.

As
expected, the moment the President disappeared into his office, Eckart grabbed
his wallet and his keys and bolted for the exit.  Colt sat there quietly and
answered a few emails as if completely focused on his work.  He gave Eckart a
good five minutes before he moved into action.

Rising
from his chair, he went out of his office and into Casey and Chris’ office,
going to the doorway that led to the main hall and making a mental note of what
he could see and hear.   Since it was lunch, most people were leaving or at
their desks, so he slipped back into his office and collected his smart phone.

With
extreme quiet, he went to the office door that led into the Oval office and
listened carefully. He couldn’t hear anything, which wasn’t unusual given the
soundproofing of the office, but sometimes snippets of loud conversation could
be heard.  It was dead silent.  With stealth, he made his way to Casey’s desk
and visually inspected the three boxes she had sitting out at her feet. 
Peering closer, he noticed they were very carefully labeled and organized by
color and year, and he quickly found 1997 and 1998.  Taking a tissue from the
box off of Casey’s desk, he pulled out the big pressboard folders that
contained bank statements. Flipping it open to January 1997, he took out his
smart phone and started taking pictures of the statement.

He moved
quickly and quietly, moving swiftly through 1997 and then on to 1998.  He wouldn’t
stop to read anything now; he would do that later at home where he could go
over everything carefully.  He finished twenty four statements in under five
minutes, so he decided to do 1996 as well as a file of medical records. In
seven minutes and fourteen seconds, he had photographed three years of bank
statements from New Mexico State Bank.   Swiftly putting the file back where he
found it, he pulled out investment folder statements for three different
investment firms and quickly photographed those as well.

It took
him a little under twenty five minutes to photograph the entire storage box
from 1996 through 1998.  He was starting to think that if Russ was particularly
clever, he wouldn’t find a thing in these statements alluding to big deposits
from South American banks.   So far, with all of his contacts, Colt hadn’t been
able to find hide nor hair of anyone with any suspicion or inkling of the
President’s previous cartel connections, except….

He put the
files back very carefully, made sure nothing else was out of place, and then
returned to his desk.  He pulled out his Ipad and began to run searches on
Russ’ years as governor and the one article from a reporter with the
Albuquerque Press than had intimated Russ Talbot’s connection to the cartel. It
had only been one article, something that had been printed twelve years ago,
but nothing more was ever done about it because Russ lost his children right
about that time. No one is going to write horrible things about a man who just
lost his two children to a disease. 

The
conspiracy theory of Russ Talbot and the Columbians had been quashed. Perhaps
that’s where he would glean more information because there certainly wasn’t
anything in the obvious places from what he could see. He would have to dig
deeper.

Colt was
still on his Ipad when Casey emerged from Russ’ office ten minutes later.  He
glanced up as she sat down at her desk, seeing her moving around as she pushed
boxes aside and began typing on her computer.  He locked the Ipad and came out
of his office.

“Hey,” he
said softly. “Want to grab some lunch?”

She
stopped typing and smiled at him. “I’d love to, but I have to get a memo out
for the President,” she said. “Can I order us some lunch or do you want to go
out?”

He
returned her smile. “I want to be wherever you are,” he said. “If you’re going
to eat here, so am I.”

She sighed
dreamily. “You’re so sweet,” she murmured. “Do you want a roast beef sandwich?”

“Sure.”

“How are
you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Are you
sure? You’re not too tired?”

He just
grinned. “I’m fine, angel.  Don’t worry so much.”

She winked
at him as she picked up the phone to order some sandwiches. Colt was just
turning back for his office when the President buzzed him and asked him to come
into the Oval Office. He turned on his heel and marched back to the President’s
office, but not before reaching out and touching Casey’s hair as he passed by. 
Still on the phone, she smiled at him as he continued on into the Oval Office.

Later that
day after downloading all of the images on to his Ipad, Colt’s phone
conveniently vanished.

No
records, no trace, no suspicion. He bought a new one after work.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Hunter
Nantz had his mother’s violet eyes and his father’s blond good looks.  While
Brody was very friendly to the enormous Secret Service agent, Hunter wasn’t so
amiable.  He was polite but seemed wary of the man, even through dinner.  Colt
tried to engage him in conversation a couple of times but it was clear that
Hunter didn’t want to talk to him.  When the meal was over, Hunter fled to his
room and shut the door.

Riley had
plans that night so she left Casey to the dishes.  Colt helped Casey in the
kitchen, bringing her dirty dishes to put in the dishwasher and even wiping off
the table for her.  Brody, still the walking wounded with the cast on his arm,
had an excuse not to help with the dishes as he sat in the family room and
played video games.   Colt could see the kid killing aliens from his post in
the kitchen.

“You’re a
good cook,” he told Casey. “That meatball and spinach soup was amazing. Where’d
you learn to cook like that?”

Casey
smiled up at him as she put the leftovers away. “My mother is a great cook,” she
said. “I guess I just carry on the tradition.”

“Does your
sister cook?”

Casey
nodded as she closed the refrigerator door. “She does, and very well,” she
said. “You don’t happen to have a single friend she can cook for, do you?”

He
grinned.  “I don’t have a lot of friends, period.”

“Why not?”

He
shrugged, leaning back against the kitchen counter with his big arms crossed
over his chest.  “I don’t know,” he said.  “I was always kind of a big, quiet
kid. Because I was so big, kids were scared of me so they stayed away.  The
more they stayed away, the more introverted I became.   By the time I reached
high school, I just had a couple of good friends and that was it.”

Casey
moved close to him, reaching up to run her fingers gently through the hair at
his temple. “But you’re so sweet and grounded,” she said. “You should have
hundreds of friends. I can’t believe you keep to yourself so much.”

He eyed
Brody as he reached out and put an arm around her waist, pulling her a little
closer to him. “I think it was a self-perpetuating problem,” he said. “People
are scared of me so they stay away; therefore, I keep to myself and do my own
thing.  It’s no big deal. But I was Prom King.”

She
giggled. “How in the world did that happen?”

Again, he
shrugged. “My ex-wife was a cheerleader and we were voted as the Prom King and
Queen. She was really outgoing, very popular, so I just kind of followed along
on her coattails.”

Casey was
still grinning. “Well, the title was well deserved,” she told him. “But where
did this ‘Anti-Christ’ nickname come from? Do you know I heard that term tossed
around for three days before I ever knew your name?”

It was his
turn to grin.  “Oh, that,” he pulled her a little closer. “Look at me; I’m six
feet five-and-a-half inches and around two hundred and sixty-odd pounds. On my
first assignment with Clinton, some guy was reaching to shake the President’s
hand but he had something in his palm.  I couldn’t quite see it because of the
way he was holding it, kind of hidden-like, but it was just large enough to be
a weapon, so I reached out and grabbed his arm.  Turns out I busted it in three
places.  The guy was just trying to hand Clinton a pen in a box.  But the
broken arm was only the first of many.”

Casey’s
eyebrows lifted.  “You broke more arms?”

He nodded.
“It happened with Clinton four times,” he said. “Arms, wrists, people grabbing
for the President and me stopping them.  Finally, the Special Agent in Charge
just started sending me out at the head of every detail, like a bodyguard
protecting a rock star. I’d shove people back, restrain overzealous reporters,
things like that.  My reputation got around and when people saw me coming,
they’d just scatter.  Someone once said ‘here comes the Anti-Christ’ and it
just kind of stuck.”

She sighed
faintly, shaking her head reproachfully. “You’re better than that,” she said.
“You don’t deserve that kind of reputation.”

He didn’t
stop grinning. “It’s gotten me a long way. I’d rather have people afraid of me
than thinking they can run me over.”

She found
herself pulled into his embrace, gazing up at his handsome face. “I’m not
afraid of you.”

He winked
at her. “I can see you’re the one person I can’t intimidate.”

“Do you
really want to?”

His
features softened as he gazed into her beautiful face. “No,” he said softly.
“But I think I may intimidate Hunter a little.”

Casey gave
him a squeeze. “Give him time,” she said softly. “He’s very protective of his
mom and, to tell you the truth, the only real experience he has with men around
his mother is his father, and all he’s seen of that is hurt. I’ve never once
brought a date or a boyfriend home. Just give him time.”

Colt
nodded faintly. “I want to make an effort with him but I don’t want him to
think I’m coming on too strong. What would you suggest?”

Casey
cocked her head, thinking. Then she cast a long glance at Brody, battling
aliens over in the family room.  A twinkle came to her eye.

“Do you
play video games?”

He
shrugged. “Not really,” he said, seeing where her attention was. “But I guess I
can learn.”

Casey
grinned. “Come on.”

Colt found
himself seated on the couch next to an eight year old who was more than happy
to explain to him the finer points of alien kill zones.  Colt picked up the
game fairly quickly, and he and Brody spent an hour very loudly killing off aliens
as part of a colonial marine force.  Since Colt had spent time in the Marines,
he was very much at home with the game and actually started to enjoy it.  Casey
sat on the couch beside him, her hand casually rubbing his back as he played. 
She loved the way he was bonding with Brody, showing interest in what
interested him.   As she watched, she fell more deeply in love with the man.
She just couldn’t help it.