Still crouched as low as he could manage, Lou swung the wheel of the Benz sharply to his left, scraping the outermost tube.

The driver behind him had no time to react. Lou sat up just as the men slammed with ferocious force into the front of the oncoming harvester. The Caddy rose up onto its nose and flipped over onto its roof.

Lou accelerated, now following the trail of harvested Frankencorn that hopefully would bring him to a road. When he finally broke free onto yet another narrow dirt and gravel track, he pulled over, coughing, gasping for breath, and then, laughing out loud. Throughout the chase, he had forced himself to think by reenacting the cracking of a patient’s chest in the ER, even though he had never actually done the procedure on anyone. It was a game he had played off and on over his career to sharpen his thinking—the emergency specialist’s version of a kid counting down the last seconds on his driveway court before taking the final shot in the championship game.

Lou exited the Benz long enough to brush himself off, spit out a mouthful of dust, and stretch. He was safe for the moment, but he knew William Chester was vindictive and deadly. It was only a matter of time—possibly very little time—before the man who had risen to wealth and power on the suspicious death of his mentor went after Renee and Emily.

Chapter 46

CHAPTER 46

Darlene waited in the sitting room outside the Oval Office for the chance to speak with her husband. She had hoped to pop in on him unannounced, but understood that at times, even the president’s wife was not extended that liberty. Today, it was a call Oval Office Operations Director Cynthia Cuthbert described as “very important.”

Cuthbert, fiftyish, single, and as devoted to Martin as anyone on his staff, oversaw who was granted access to the president. She prided herself on being meticulous, serious, and efficient. Although she preferred to work in the shadows, no one in Washington who mattered, or wanted to matter, misjudged her power.

Darlene and she shared a mutual respect though nothing approaching a friendship, and a very important phone call was a very important phone call. Darlene hadn’t gotten near the Oval Office yet, but already she felt off balance and uncomfortable.

How will Martin react? How much should I tell him?

Everything, she had decided. He must know everything that she had learned from Double M. The situation was far too grave for her to hold anything back. Unfortunately, even without mentioning her connection with Lou, there was a strong chance her overstressed husband would erupt. Gratefully, the Oval Office walls were soundproof.

“May I get you something to drink while you’re waiting for the president?” Cuthbert asked.

The president. Darlene thought, sighing inwardly, How about “Martin”? Or better still, “your husband”?