The Candidate (Romantic Suspense) (The Candidate Series) (15 page)

According to media reports, none of the suspects survived the shoot-out, which took place at their safe house. But apparently the mission of these self-proclaimed Venezuelan eco-terrorists was to protest “Imperialistic America’s gluttony for the blood and oil of others.” 

Thirty-two plastic tubes found in a cabinet were filled with high-powered explosives, which were being mixed into shampoo bottles. An “off-the-record intelligence source” told CNN that Homeland Security suspects that Venezuelan president, Manolo Padilla, had funded the group. 

Later that day—just in time for the evening news—the new Chief of Homeland Security, Arthur Chase, confirmed this, stating that a fax discussing wire transfers from individuals in Miami, and signed ''Ponce''—a name believed to be one of terrorists’ aliases— mentions a terrorist organization called the MPD, or Muerte a la Patria del Diablo, which translates into “Death to the Devil’s Homeland.” 

As part of the investigation, the FBI concluded that at least $49,000 in wire transfers was sent from Venezuela to Mexico and Argentina to a ''Pedro Duarte.'' 

Vice President Talbot’s presence at the press conference is evidence that the White House sees this as a serious threat to the country. “We must protect, defend our country, at all costs. I’m sure the Venezuelan people will welcome liberation from the tyrant dictator who now controls their government.”

President Padilla denied any knowledge of the plot “concocted by the imperialist United States in order to invade Venezuela for its oil.”  

——————————

Chapter 33

After reading about the five Venezuelan nationals, Ben suddenly felt as paranoid as Fred.

“It’s all such bullshit,” chortled Fred, who, as usual, appeared at the Mansfield for President campaign headquarters after everyone but Andy and Ben had gone home. He was already digging into the bucket of chicken he’d brought with him. Ben would not have doubted in the least that the spy had a camera hidden somewhere inside their offices. While that should have bugged him, it only made him feel safer. 

“What, are you saying that someone else was behind it?”

Fred and Andy exchanged glances. Andy shrugged. “It’s an election year, isn’t it?” 

The two of them disappeared into Andy’s office and shut the door.

Ben shook his head. Dirty tricks were a given. Considering all that had happened these past twelve months, he now laughed at his naiveté over his shock when their offices were bugged. But he still found it hard to wrap his brain around the concept that the sitting United States vice president had anything to do with black sites, or assassinations. 

“Is Andy inside?” 

Ben looked up to find Paul in the doorway. Since their lunch at the University Club, he’d made it a point to meet with Andy away from the Mansfield campaign headquarters. There were no more boys’ nights out down at Bedrock Billiards.

That was fine with Ben. He nodded toward Andy’s office. “Fred’s with him. They don’t want to be disturbed.”

Paul frowned. “You shouldn’t let Fred pull him away to play James Bond. That takes him off his game.” 

Ben agreed, but the last thing he’d do is let Paul know that. Paul squirmed whenever he felt he’d been left out of the loop. Between Ben and Fred, he was out a lot. “With what he’s telling our boy, my guess is that Andy will win ‘the game’ hands down.”

 “What conspiracy theories are they ruminating about now?” Paul walked to the window and looked out into the pitch black.

For all Ben knew, Fred was blowing hot air. But that didn’t matter. Ben was having too much fun watching Paul twitch. He shrugged. “Beats me. Something about the Minnesota terrorist plot. And if Fred’s intel is right, guess who’s the hero of the day?”

Paul didn’t say anything but Ben knew he’d gotten his goat by the way the lawyer clenched his fist. “Well, then, I’m sure he’ll be tied up for quite some time. I’ve got to get home to the wife. Just tell him I stopped by to give him some great news. The Allenbergs have agreed to throw a fundraiser in the second week of January. All big fish.” He wrapped his cashmere scarf around his neck and tucked it under his camelhair coat. “I assume we’ll see you there, too. Feel free to bring a date. If you can find one on such short notice.”

Ben resisted the urge to bash the bastard’s head up against the wall. 

He grabbed his laptop and buried it into his satchel, but waited until Paul left the building before heading out the door. It had been a long day, and he was bone tired. 

Except for whatever Maddy had in mind. Hopefully, something naughty.

The past four weeks had been perfect. No secrets, no worries. Okay, maybe a bit of drama. She seemed short-tempered lately, moody over the silliest things.

Like a real girlfriend. 

For the first time in his life, he felt whole. 

Chapter 34

“Mansfield knows about ‘Flamingo.’” Talbot abhorred making eye contact with anyone, but this time, so that Smith would have no misunderstanding about his anxiety over the issue, he made sure to meet the other man’s eyes in the rear view mirror when he broke that bit of news.

Nothing. Smith’s eyes did not go wide, nor did they narrow. He didn’t even blink, let alone give the limo’s steering wheel an involuntary smack in frustration. If there was any reaction at all, perhaps it was the ghost of a smile that, for just one brief second, shadowed his lips.

 Then again, maybe Talbot imagined that.

Usually he was impressed with Smith’s nonchalance under stress. This time, though, there was too much at stake, and he wanted Smith to commiserate with him; to feel his pain, so to speak. Hell, for once—just once!— he wished the man would act like a human being, not the cold, calculating sociopathic killer he was. “So, what are we going to do about it?”

Smith kept his eyes on Talbot, ostensibly as reassurance that he was all ears, but actually so that the vice president wouldn’t notice his finger slipping behind the rear view mirror. Talbot had heaved himself into the car and blurted it out so fast that for once, Smith hadn’t had time to activate the digital recorder first. “That depends. How do you know for sure that Mansfield knows anything?”

“That twerp, Paul Twist. He’s angling for U.S. Attorney General, once I get elected. Thinks I owe it to him, considering his Judas routine.” Talbot shook his head in disgust. 

“His stuff has been pretty reliable thus far. Go ahead and string him along until I can track down his source.” Frankly Smith hoped Talbot would grant the kid his wish. It gave him a hard-on just thinking he could have one over on the head honcho in the Justice Department, particularly one who obviously had his own mole buried somewhere within the bowels of the Pentagon. “It means there’s a leak in your organization.”

“What makes you think the leak is on my side? It could be one of your cutthroats.”

“My ‘cutthroats’ are pros who know how to keep their mouths shut. It’s power players like you who feel the need to let someone know what you’re up to, if only to stroke your own egos—or to save your own asses.” Smith let that sink in. “In any event, I guess we have a little problem.”

“What’s this ‘we’ shit? It’s your problem, not mine.” Talbot poked Smith’s headrest to make his point. “And it’s fucking humongous. So fix it. And fast. I don’t doubt for a second that Mansfield plans to use it against me. Against all of us. Besides losing the nomination, I can be tried for treason! Just remember—if the old men and I go down, so do you.”

“Are you ordering me to exterminate Mansfield?”

“What, do I have to spell it out for you?” Talbot’s shout certainly left no doubt of his intentions, either live or digitized. “You know, accidents happen to everyone. Even presidential candidates. Only don’t make it a public assassination. The goal is to get rid of the problem, not make the man a martyr.”

Chapter 35

Ben supposed it wasn’t too odd that both Maddy and Andy had come up with the same idea for Abby’s Christmas gift: an antique copperplate engraving of St. Paul’s Basilica, from a little art gallery on Wisconsin Avenue in Georgetown. Apparently they were both with her when she had admired it, and each had taken special note of this.

To Ben’s dismay, however, the one day he had off from the campaign to go Christmas shopping with Maddy was also the day in which Andy chose to shop for Abby, too. 

Ben’s hand, entwined with Maddy’s, left no doubt of their relationship. It didn’t help either that her head was snuggled against his chest.

The congenial smile on Andy’s face dissolved instantly at the realization that they were together. What took its place was shock, then cool annoyance. Involuntarily he turned to go, but then he changed his mind and steeled himself forward toward them. 

“Ben. Maddy.” He nodded stiffly. “What a surprise.”

Maddy’s eyes could cut glass. “Good to see you, Andy. I was just buying a little something for Abby. Like minds think alike, I guess.” 

He reeled back at Maddy’s smirk, as if he’d been slapped on the cheek. Then to save face, he glanced around the store, moving toward another of the etchings in the same set. Nodding after it, he shrugged. “This way she’ll have a matching pair. Twins.”

It was Maddy’s turn to wince. 

Ben looked from one to the other. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask what the hell was going on, and why it should matter that he and Maddy knew each other; more importantly, to ask what Maddy and Andy shared that they weren’t telling him.

But before he could open his mouth to say a word, Andy nodded curtly and walked the second etching toward the saleswoman. 

Ben shrugged. “I guess our cover is blown.”

Maddy smiled. “Yeah, gee what a shame.”

She didn’t really sound upset, and for some reason that bothered him. “Do you think he’ll tell Abby?”

“Who, him?” That set her off into gales of laughter. “Nah, he’s not that stupid.”

Ben wished he knew what she meant by that, but he knew better than to ask. 

 “So, this thing with Maddy: is it serious?” 

Andy waited until the following night to broach the topic. He and Ben were working late in the campaign offices, going over the following month’s travel itinerary. 

Ben was relieved that now he didn’t have to hem and haw or come up with some kind of bullshit to cover what had to be obvious to anyone who saw the two of them together: “We love each other. That’s all that matters, right? At least to her, and to me.”

There, he’d said it to someone other than Maddy. 

He watched Andy’s face as that sunk in, and wondered if it occurred to Andy that the two of them might one day be brothers-in-law—

“I’d like to ask you a favor. I’d—I’d like to ask you to leave her alone.”

Ben couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
What...the fuck? Leave her alone?

He crunched his fist into a knot. He could imagine one that size in his stomach. “I don’t understand.”

“What I’m trying to tell you is that you’re making a big mistake. Ben, please trust me on this.”

“Senator, with all due respect, I don’t think that’s up to you to say. It’s between Maddy and me.” 

“There’s a lot about her you don’t know. And should it ever—if Abby ever found out —”

Ben had never seen Andy pace the floor like that.
What’s he not saying here? 

“Listen, Senator, Maddy and I are both grown-ups. We know what we’re getting into here.” Ben shook his head in disbelief. “Frankly I would think that you of all people would be happy for us.”

 “
Me?
Yeah. Sure. Ecstatic.” Andy frowned and closed his eyes. 

Fuck you, thought Ben. But what he said instead, though not so convincingly: “Thanks for the vote of support.”

“Does Abby know yet?” The dread in Andy’s voice was obvious.

The memories of his lie to Abby, about dropping his relationship with Maddy, ran over Ben like a bad chill. “She may have an inkling. But hey, feel free to confirm it, if you want.” Considering Andy’s reaction to the news, he could only imagine what Abby would say about it.

About his betrayal to her.

Andy’s mirthless laugh made him wince. “No thanks. I’ll leave that honor to you.”  

He dismissed Ben without a glance. 

The Day After Christmas…

The Day After Christmas...

Chapter 36

“Will you—will you marry me?”

Oh fuck it. No matter how many times he practiced it in the mirror that morning, he choked up before he got it all out.

Get over it, you lovesick bastard. You know she’s going to say yes...

Bullshit. He didn’t know what Maddy was capable of doing or saying at any given moment. And the moment he was most concerned about was now less than a week away: 

New Year’s Eve.

We met last year on that night. Since then, we’ve been through hell and high water. But it was worth it. She’s worth it. What else can she say but ‘yes’?