Cindy Dees - Target

He snorted. “They’re swooning over my job description. You’re the first woman I’ve met since I ran for President who looked at me and really saw me.”

She stammered, flustered at the compliment.

He said earnestly, “Just promise me you won’t change after I become President.”

“You’re not sworn in, yet?” she exclaimed.

“Nope. Owen’s really wired tight. He’s worried that someone way up in the government may be a crazy bent on taking me out. He’s got me locked down. Again.”

She said seriously, “I have to agree with Owen on this one.”

Gabe absorbed that in silence. Did he think she was crazy after all? She took a deep breath. She had to stop looking for reasons to push people away. She’d be engaging in long bouts of silence, too, if someone told her a close associate of hers was out to kill her.

She said lightly, “Well, look at it this way. A day’s delay in taking office will make for an interesting footnote in the history books about you.”

“Gee, thanks,” he said dryly. “There’s nothing like being reminded that my every word and move for the next four years is going to be recorded and commented on for generations to come.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle. “Hey, you’re the numbskull who volunteered for the job.” Lest he take offense she added quickly, “You’re going to be a great president.”

“Why’s that?”

She answered sincerely, “Because you care. Because you want to make the world a better place. Because you’re decent and honorable and will do the right thing.”

A long pause. Then he said quietly, “I think that’s about the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me.”

“So, are we taking turns embarrassing each other tonight, or what?” She laughed softly. “I think it’s your turn, now.”

“Tell you what. I’ll take a rain check on that. I have confidence that in the next few months, I’ll have ample opportunities to embarrass you.”

Months? As in he wanted to see her again? For months? Whoa. “Okay,” she managed to choke out.

“So what are you up to right now?” he asked her.

“Well, I thought I’d try to track down some of those high-ranking crazies who might be out to kill you. I’m on my way to see my grandfather.”

“Joseph Lockworth, right?”

“How did you know he’s my grandfather?”

“Owen ran a background check on you after breakfast this morning. He mentioned it to me.”

“Oh.” She cringed. He’d heard all the gory details of her checkered past, eh? So much for him ever respecting her.

Gabe added, “I didn’t ask to hear the details. I’d rather learn about you myself. From you directly.”

If only she were half that noble. She cleared her throat. “In the interest of being honest, I should tell you that I’ve done quite a bit of research into your life over the course of trying to figure out why the Q-group was so determined to kill you.”

“Did you find anything in my past that bothers you?” he asked cautiously.

“Well,” she drawled, “there was that whole French 101 debacle in college. You really are hopeless at foreign languages.”

He laughed. “I plead guilty as charged.”

“In the interest of honesty, I should also tell you that my past won’t stand up to scrutiny nearly as well as yours does. I was…a bit of a rebel in my youth.”

“Well, whatever went into making you the person you are today is fine with me.”

“Okay. You’ve embarrassed me, now. I guess that makes it my turn again.”

He laughed. “I can’t wait. Unfortunately, I’ve got to go now. We’re going to have yet another planning meeting to set up an inauguration for me. I think we’re going to bag trying to do it publicly and just do it at the White House. One of the official photographers can film it and then we’ll release the film to the public tomorrow.

“Sounds like a plan,” she replied earnestly. “At this point, I don’t think the nation cares about a fancy ceremony. They just want to get you safely installed in office.”

“Agreed. My cabinet and a few key advisors are going to assemble in a couple of hours to witness the oath.”

A chill of foreboding trickled down her spine. Why was she still so bloody sure that he was in mortal danger? It was a certainty lodged deep down in her gut, and no matter what she did, she couldn’t shake it. “Well, I’d better let you go to your meeting. I wouldn’t want to keep the nation waiting.”

“Take care, Diana.”

“You, too, Gabe. Be careful.”

She set down the phone gently. She had no choice. She had to see this thing through. For him. And for herself if she was ever going to have a chance at love. She had to push through the fear, the vulnerability he provoked in her. Resolutely, she picked up her phone and asked a mobile operator to connect her to the Shoreham.

“Joseph Lockworth’s room, please,” she told the hotel operator.

“One moment please.”

The phone rang a couple times, and then her grandfather’s deep voice answered. “Lockworth, here.”

He answered that as if he expected this to be a work call. But he was retired. Of course, if he was involved with S.A.F.E. he might answer that way if he expected the call to be one of his partners in crime.

“Grandfather. It’s Diana. We need to talk. Now.”

“Do we, indeed?” he answered. “About what?”

Gramps was definitely in full CIA Director mode. She answered coolly, “About a man named Richard Dunst. He used to work for you. And about the Q-group. Do they work for you, too? For S.A.F.E?”

“Well, now. We do need to talk, don’t we? I’m a little tied up at the moment. I’ll call you in a few minutes and we’ll meet. We have a lot to talk over.”

A lump of lead formed in her stomach. He didn’t deny it. She’d been right. He was involved in S.A.F.E. Was he the one who decided Gabe Monihan shouldn’t be President? That S.A.F.E. somehow had the right to pick and choose the nation’s leader? Had he sent that hacker to her house to frame her? Then fingered her to Delphi, too. Why? Who was this S.A.F.E. group that they could turn a man against his own flesh and blood? Especially her grandfather, to whom family loyalty was so important? Did they have something on him? Some hook to blackmail him with?

He’d delayed setting up a rendezvous with her. He needed time before he met her, eh? Why? Who was he frantically calling right now? What was he doing before they met? Arranging another kidnapping, maybe? Her murder this time?

She glanced up at a road sign overhead listing upcoming exits. Langley, Virginia. Home of the Central Intelligence Agency. Was it also the headquarters of S.A.F.E.? Her jaw tightened. There was one sure way to find out.

She steered her car onto the exit ramp and followed the unobtrusive signs pointing the way to CIA headquarters. She pulled up at the front guard shack. “I’m Diana Lockworth. I’m here to meet with my grandfather, Joseph Lockworth. He told me to meet him at the front reception desk.” She flashed her military ID and DIA identification for the guy.

He put a parking pass inside her car on the dashboard and waved her through.

One hurdle down.

She pulled into the parking lot, which was surprisingly crowded for this time of night. But then, after the day’s double terrorist attacks, the CIA probably had every analyst on staff at work tonight trying to track down leads on the men who’d done it and who was behind them. Was there someone inside right now, equally furiously covering those very tracks?

She parked her car and walked toward the white, modern structure, vividly aware of the cameras and guards watching her progress toward the building. She stepped into the brightly lit glass foyer, with its modern art and the eloquent wall of anonymous stars, one for each agent who’d fallen in service of his or her country. Of course, she didn’t even make it to the CIA seal on the floor before she was directed in no uncertain terms to a visitor’s reception area. Crud. She had to get into the building somehow. Fortunately, her job gave her occasional exposure to people who worked over here in the Spook House. She needed the name of someone who worked here, and who might conceivably be here, working late tonight.