Lady Liberty (47 page)

“I’m pulling for both of you.”

“Thanks.” He hung up the phone, not sure how to feel about Gabby’s orchestrating their phone calls. Though tempted to be angry, he couldn’t do it with a clean conscience. Gabby loved Sybil, and she wanted them both happy. How could he fault Gabby for that when he wanted the same thing?

He set up the tea tray and then returned to Sybil’s office. Wondering if she would even notice, he filled a cup for her and then set it near her elbow.

Austin had pushed her into asking and then had refused to give.

Jonathan would give before she thought to ask.

Sybil hung up the phone, ending the conference call, stared at the teacup a long moment, and then walked around her desk to Jonathan.

He set his cup down on the edge of her desk. “Were you successful?”

She stopped in front of him, tilted her head back, and looked up, into his eyes. “No promises, but they’re talking, and if David’s right and the target cycles to one of them, they’re considering not launching a preemptive strike.”

“That’s good.”

“Maybe.”

“It’s good.” He glanced down, and the hint of a smile touched the corner of his mouth. For better or worse, his plan was working. She noticed. “You forgot your shoes.”

She looked down at her bare feet, cut and bruised and swollen. “So I did.” Lifting her gaze to his, she gave him a lazy smile. “Thanks for the tea.”

“You’re welcome.”

She stepped closer. “It meant what I think it meant, right?”

“Depends.” Arms hanging limp at his sides, he didn’t move. “What do you think it meant?”

Doubt slithered through Sybil. Maybe she had misunderstood. Maybe him bringing her tea had been a kind gesture and nothing more. She blinked hard and fast. “I—I’m sorry, Jonathan. I—I thought—” She stepped away.

He blocked her retreat. “I promised I’d stay”

“Until the crisis is over.” For the veep, not for her.

He lifted a hand, dragged his knuckles along the line of her jaw, and the look in his eyes softened. “I promised I’d never leave you again.”

He had. At the A-267 hangar, when they’d been about to open the briefcase. But… no. No, he had been talking to her, not to Conlee. Her heart beat hard and fast and she trembled. “We’d have to be crazy to even think about—”

“We’d be insane. But we’re going to do it anyway”

“We are?”

He nodded.

“Why?”

“Because it’s right. Because the idea of not doing it is more painful than anything that could happen by taking the plunge.” He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her, long and hard and deep, then reared back and looked down into her eyes. “Resignation is a wonderful thing, Sybil. Defeat has its upside, too.”

One of her hands at his chest and the other at his waist, she felt as dazed as he looked. This was insane. He could hurt her. She didn’t think she could take being hurt again. The pain cut too deep, the suffering lasted too long. She had barely recovered the first time, and she had sworn to never again put her heart on the line. “I don’t think—”

“Don’t bother, honey” He stroked her hair, her cheek. “You can’t say anything I haven’t already thought a thousand times.”

“But it’s not simple between us.” Her face mirrored her confusion, layers of fear and longing and doubt and desire and hope.

“It never has been.” He smiled to soften the blow. “But none of it matters. Trust me on this one. I’ve been at this a lot longer than you.”

He loved her. Not the veep, not the image, but her. “You don’t look a damn bit worried about walking in my shadow.”

“What’s to fear? I’ve walked in your shadow for years.”

The truth hit her like a sledgehammer. He never had been worried about endangering his own life on her detail. He’d transferred because he loved her and he was afraid that endangered her. “It doesn’t matter what we think or say or what we had planned, does it? This … thing between us. It’s just there.” She couldn’t bring herself to say “love.” He hadn’t and, coward or worse, neither could she.

“It’s there.”

She stared at him a long moment and a furrow formed between her brows. “How do you feel about it?”

“I don’t like it worth a damn.”

Never had more sincere words been spoken, or reciprocated. She smiled. “Me, either.”

“But it isn’t going anywhere,” he said. “I know that for fact. Whether I’m with you or away from you, or I fit into your plans or not, or what I do and don’t want—none of it makes a damn bit of difference. For a while, thinking you’d be ashamed of me, that I wouldn’t fit in your world, knocked me off balance.”

“What?” Shock widened her eyes. “But you’re a great fit.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “Perfect.”

“Good, because even that doesn’t matter.”

“Nothing seems to, I have to agree.”

“So it is that way for you, too.”

She nodded, slipped her arms around his neck. “Yeah, it is.”

He lifted his hands, let them slide along her waist to her back. “Since it’s going to hang around anyway, what you think about us riding along? Willingly, I mean?”

“We don’t seem to have much choice, so we might as well.” She stood on her toes and kissed him again, letting her thoughts tumble joyfully into what her heart already knew. Planned or not, wanted or not, feared or not, a special bond connected them. A bond that ignored denials and pleas and fears, and plans and intentions and promises. A bond that wouldn’t fray or ravel or fade. A bond that would endure.

The phone rang.

Grumbling curses on the caller’s head, Sybil stepped out of his embrace and answered. Five more minutes, and they would have been making love. For a woman who had abstained for nearly two years and had only just discovered she was loved by the man she loved—even if neither of them had worked up the courage to utter the “L” word yet—this was
not
an easy-to-swallow interruption. “Stone.”

“Commander Conlee here, ma’am.”

“Yes, Commander.” Looking as disappointed as she felt, Jonathan gathered their cups and put them back on the tray. He still wore black sneakers. She hated seeing that but could hardly object to his silent prediction of trouble.

“The president is on with us, ma’am,” Conlee said. “I wanted to let both of you know that our situation here has changed. Dr. Stone has forced our hand. He demanded we let him leave or arrest him, so we arrested him. We haven’t yet interrogated him or made any accusations, and he hasn’t said anything. We’re in a Mexican standoff, more or less, waiting for someone to break. Frankly, I don’t think it’s going to be he.”

“It won’t,” Sybil predicted. Arresting Austin assured it. He had nothing left to lose. “He’d rather be dead than in jail. He’s accepted the inevitable.”

“Sybil,” David cut in. “I know you’re not talking about death.”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” she said. “He’s going to do it, David. He’s going to let the missile launch.”

“Do you think Cap Marlowe might be able to influence him?” David asked.

“No,” Sybil said. “Austin and Cap used each other. There’s no bond between them.”

Jonathan stilled and Sybil knew from his posture that some piece of the puzzle had slid into place. “How are we coming on the DNA cross-checks, Commander?”

“Still working on them, ma’am.” Conlee hesitated, then added, “This might sound a little out of left field, Mr. President, but your boy Barber made a special request that we run Senator Marlowe’s DNA. We asked for a basis but all Barber would say about it was that he considered it prudent.”

“No insight on that, I’m afraid,” David said. “Sybil, what’s Peris and Abdan’s status?”

“If the target cycles to them, they’re
considering
not
launching a preemptive strike. No promises, except to negotiate with each other in good faith. We’ll hear back from them before midnight.” Barber had to be Austin’s in-house connection. This was one coincidence too many, forming a triad among him, Cap, and Austin. If at the end of the day, Barber could have gotten them out of this quagmire and hadn’t done it, Sybil swore she would strangle him herself.

“Stay in touch.” David hung up.

“Anything else, Commander?”

“When will you be on site, ma’am?”

Jonathan looked at her, eagerly waiting for her to get off the phone. “How long before we’ll get to A-267?” she asked him.

“Maybe an hour. We have to make a trip to St. Elizabeth’s first.”

She cupped her hand over the mouthpiece. “St. Elizabeth’s?”

He nodded. “I remember where I saw the messenger.”

“An hour, Commander.” She hung up the phone, then asked Jonathan, “What messenger?”

“The one in Cap’s office. When we were leaving, Jean was signing for a package from Ground Serve. When we were going over the film on Faust, I saw this guy in a photo who looked familiar but I couldn’t place him. Now I have.”

“He was the messenger.” Sybil assimilated that. “A direct link between Faust and Cap.”

“It appears so.”

“Let’s go.” Sybil shoved on her sneakers, cringed against the tenderness and the pain, and snagged her purse off a chair. “Senator Marlowe has some explaining to do.”

“To hell with explanations. They can wait,” Jonathan said. “Let’s hope he’s got the key to the inner hub.”

“I think we’ll get farther if I go in alone.”

Jonathan checked Cap’s room, took the at-ease stance outside the door, and then gave Sybil a go-ahead nod. Sybil walked in. Cap was sitting up in his hospital bed, his glasses resting on the end of his nose.

“Sybil.” He turned down the volume on the television. A baseball game was in-progress.

“Hello, Cap. You’re looking a lot better than the last time I saw you.”

His cheeks and neck flushed. “Did I thank you for getting me out of there?”

“Yes.” She lifted her chin. “You lived.”

“Is this a social visit?”

“No.” She stepped over to his bedside. “I know you received a package from an associate of Gregor Faust’s.” He opened his mouth to deny it, but she held up a staying hand. “Don’t lie to me, Cap. We’re in critical trouble, and
I’m not here to debate. In two hours a lot of people are going to die.”

No response.

“Cap.” She sat down on the side of his bed. “If we get lucky and find a way to survive this, very soon you’re going to run for President of the United States. You’re going to meet Americans face to face and tell them how you’re going to make their lives better. You’re going to ask them to support you, and when you win their confidence and that election, you’re going to take an oath to serve and protect them. Don’t you think they should be alive and above-ground, not buried below it to hear all this?”

“I don’t trust you, Sybil.” He dipped his chin, glared at her. “I wish I did, but I don’t. Hell, I don’t even trust myself anymore.”

“If you let these people die …”

“I didn’t start this, and I can’t stop it. I would if I could, but I can’t.” The truth burned in his eyes. “Regardless of what you think of me, I do love this country. I’m not perfect, but I have tried to serve it well. I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”

“I understand.” Wishing she didn’t, Sybil stood up and opened a virtual door that allowed him to save face. “And I know you’re the most connected man on the Hill. I need your help, Cap. If you can find out anything about this— anything at all—now is the time.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you.” She turned and walked to the door.

“Sybil?”

She paused and looked back at him.

“That day we, um, talked about Austin. You didn’t know until I told you, did you?”

The vasectomy.
Even now he demanded his pound of flesh. “No, Cap, I didn’t.”

“I’m sorry.” A thick furrow formed between his brows
and sincere regret filled his eyes. “I believed… Then I wasn’t sure …” He sighed and stopped himself. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” she said, forcing herself to hold his gaze. “I knew when you didn’t release the report to the media.”

“You didn’t know about the blind-trust violations, either.”

A statement, not a question. Still, she gave him a head shake.