Cindy Dees: Target

“And the Attorney General, it sounds like,” he bit out.

“There’s only one problem,” she said.

“Only one?” he retorted. “It’s sounds to me like you’ve got several problems at the moment.”

She replied impatiently, “I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about you. I couldn’t find out who’s in charge of the whole conspiracy. It has to be someone way up in the government, though, based on the kind of information and resources they seem to have access to. You watch your back.”

“That’s what both of you Lockworth’s have been doing for me.”

“So Gramps is really on the up-and-up when he says he’s been investigating this bunch for you?”

“Absolutely,” Gabe answered firmly.

No hesitation. And that was a definite ring of truth in his voice. Well, okay then.

“So, are you President, yet?” she asked lightly.

“No,” he laughed. “But soon. Less than an hour.”

“Sheesh,” she groused teasingly, “Who’d have guessed this nation elected such a slacker? It’s about darn time you took the reins.”

“We’ll get there. One step at a time. Although, if you’ve busted this shadow group as wide-open as you say you have, my job just got a whole lot easier.”

“Not to mention that you might live to do your job now,” she added.

He waxed abruptly serious. “Exactly. I can’t thank you enough. So. What can I do to help you out of your current predicament?”

“I do have a way of getting into messes, don’t I?” she asked ruefully.

“Indeed.”

“Actually, Gramps seems to think he’s got it covered. How about we give you a call back if we get into a jam?”

“All right. But you call me if you need help, all right? I owe you an enormous debt.”

She winced at his words. Is that what she was to him? A debt? Her stomach roiled, more nauseous than it already was. She hung up the phone and handed it back to her grandfather.

“It seems I owe you an apology, Gramps.”

He waved a dismissive hand. “Put that thought right out of your mind. You were doing your job. I completely understand. And frankly, if you hadn’t been cautious with me, I’d have chewed your butt.”

She had no doubt he would’ve, too. No wonder her mother had been wild and stubborn with this man for a father-in-law.

“Exactly how were you planning to walk me out of here past all those guys out there?” she asked.

“That’s the thing. We’re not going past them.” He nodded at the hidden door.

“Surely those guys out there know about that connecting door. They’ll have agents posted outside the adjoining office.”

“Well,” her grandfather drawled, “I had a little chat with the Director when I got here, and he arranged for there not to be agents on the door that opens to a separate hallway that runs behind the adjoining office.”

“We’re going to escape?” she asked in disbelief.

“Yup. Just like the good old days.” He was grinning like a mischievous six-year-old.

“What about the security cameras? The hallways are lined with them!”

“Not being monitored for the next-” he glanced at his watch “-four minutes. It really is time to go.”

“If those guys in the outer office figure out what we’re doing, they’ll shoot to kill! If-and that’s a big if-we manage to make it out of the building, they’ll put out an APB on us so fast it’ll make your head spin.”

“Nah. Think how foolish they’ll look when they finally get into this office and there’s nobody inside. You’ll have vanished into thin air. They can’t very well put out an APB on an invisible woman.”

Her eyes narrowed. “They won’t put out the APB because you’re going to take down Collin Scott, and they won’t want to draw any more attention to him and the reason for what happens to him than they have to.”

“Ah, my girl, you’d be a natural in the agency. Can I possibly tempt you to transfer over here from Defense Intelligence?”

“Not on your life. You can keep all these political games and maneuvering. They make my head hurt.”

He guffawed. “And that’s why you’re a conspiracy theorist, right? You like to think about simple, straightforward things.”

She grinned back at him. “Exactly.”

He knelt down and began picking up the scattered S.A.F.E. documents. “We’d better take this stuff with us, don’t you think?”

She knelt down and began helping him. “Definitely. We wouldn’t want there to be an unfortunate accident with a paper shredder.”

In a few seconds, they’d gathered up all the papers and stuffed them back into their red file.

“Better stick that under your coat,” her grandfather advised. “If someone sees you leave the building with a red file, you could get into big trouble.”

She replied dryly, “That will be the least of my problems if we’re stopped on the way out of the building.”

“True. Here. Put this on. Just in case we run into anybody in a hallway.” Her grandfather held out a light brown wig to her. It was a chin-length pageboy-shaped thing, not terribly different from her own hair, but its smooth shape and chestnut color were enough off that nobody would give her a second glance.

She tucked the last of her wavy, golden locks under it. “How do I look?”

“Not nearly as pretty as my granddaughter,” he replied.

“Let’s get out of here.”

She followed him to the hidden panel and stepped through it into a darkened office. Light and noise came from the other side of the door as some of the security team from next door spilled over into the outer office of this suite. She and Gramps moved quietly across the carpeted floor, toward another door on the opposite side of the office. Yup, just as she’d thought. Her grandfather moved with the grace and stealth of a cat. The old guy must have been something else in his prime.

She waited in the shadows behind him as he opened the second exit silently. He glanced both directions down the hall, then gestured for her to follow him. They slipped outside. She walked beside him, moving purposefully, but without undue haste that might draw attention to them.

They wound down hallway after hallway, moving ever farther from the front door and the fiasco behind them. They went down an elevator and stepped out into a small vestibule.

“If each of us doesn’t swipe an ID card as we leave, it’s going to set off an alarm. We’ll have to run for my car once we get out of here,” he instructed in a low murmur.

“I can do you one better than that,” she murmured back. She fished Samantha’s ID card out of her coat pocket and dangled it from her fingers.

Gramps shook his head admiringly. “Lockworth, through and through.”

They duly swiped their ID cards and stepped out into a dim parking garage. Perhaps twenty feet away, a limousine lurked in a dark shadow, its long, sleek shape menacing. Pantherlike.

They moved over to it swiftly, and the rear passenger door opened from inside as they approached it. Someone was inside waiting for them? Startled, Diana ducked into the vehicle and slid across the leather seat to make room for Gramps, who was close behind her.

“Let’s go, Jens,” he said into an intercom before the door was even fully closed.

The vehicle pulled out smoothly while Diana’s eyes adjusted to the dark interior, lit only by a few small running lights along the floor. Not only was there one someone inside the limo, there were five someones.

She jolted as a voice said out of the darkness, “Hi, honey. Are you all right?”

“Mom? What in the world are you doing here?”

“You know us Lockworths. We stick together. I was with your grandfather when you called his hotel room. As soon as the call came in that you’d just gone into the CIA building, and we realized you were probably in trouble or about to be in trouble, wild horses couldn’t have stopped me from coming along.”