Chapters (83)
Jack checked his watch. “You’ve got about a minute, at most.”
“For what?”
A look fell over Jack’s face. It chilled Rhodes to the bone.
“So, where was I? Oh, yes. Paul. Truth is, I hardly knew him. I think we met once or twice at some interminable staff meeting. We were both with the Company, but he was just an accountant working in a shabby little office in the basement. Well, when I got the call that set the meet, I scrambled downstairs to the basement to grab keys for an old Lada we used for undercover work. The locker where the keys were kept was just outside Paul’s office, and there he was, burning the midnight oil, and—”
Rhodes glanced out the window. Two black SUVs pulled up to the curb. Doors opened. Men and women in coats and armored vests marked FBI scrambled out. Rhodes stood, leaning on his desk, panic on his face.
“Jack—”
“What?”
“There must be a way.”
“Afraid not.”
Rhodes’s eyes flitted to his desk for an instant. Jack followed his gaze. The Kimber .380 was only inches from Rhodes’s manicured hands.
Jack slid his coat jacket back, revealing a pistol on his hip. “I’m begging you. Pick it up.”
“I think not.”
“Coward. Pick it up.”
Rhodes took a step back from his desk, palms up. “I can’t shoot you, Jack. I need you.”
“Need me? What for?”
“You’re my insurance. This whole affair—you’re up to your eyeballs in it. So is your father. Defense contractors? Spies? North Koreans? Your father would never risk the scandal. It would ruin his administration. Call him. Call this whole thing off, now, before it’s too late.”
Two FBI agents marched into the study. One of them held a sheaf of papers in one hand. “Senator Rhodes?”
“Jack? Trust me, this can all go away. Make the call.”
Jack shook his head and smiled. “You really don’t know my dad, do you? He called the attorney general himself.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I was hoping I could save the taxpayers a few dollars.”
“Weston Rhodes, this is a warrant for your arrest.” The FBI agent tossed it on the desk as the other agent approached Rhodes with a pair of handcuffs. “You have the right to remain silent.”
75
SULLY, IOWA
Jack stood at the guest book in the foyer of the old Lutheran church, patting his pockets.
“Lose your pen?”
Jack turned around, surprised. “Yeah.”
President Ryan handed Jack his own Zebra F-701 stainless. “Do I want to know how?”
Junior didn’t say a word, but Senior recognized the look. Jack took the pen and signed his name on the register. He turned back around and held the pen out to his dad.
“Keep it, son. In case you need it.”
“I saw Mary Pat inside. I didn’t know you were coming.”