Eric Lustbader - First Daughter

"We pray, oh Lord, for President-elect Edward Harrison Carson and Vice President-elect Richard Thomas Baer, to whom you have entrusted the leadership of this nation at this moment in history. We pray that you will help them bring our country together, so that we may rise above partisan politics and seek the larger vision of your will for our nation."

Jack felt Garner's grip on his shoulder, trying to turn him around. He saw Nina leaning in toward the president-elect. But her mouth was closed, her jaw set. She reached into an inner pocket of her coat, and at that moment Jack knew. The last piece of the Rubik's Cube fell into place. The real Ian Brady had used a woman younger than he for his accomplice, but not so young as his victims, not so young as to be unreliable. Someone just like Nina Miller.

Jack drew his Glock, fired one shot into Nina's heart. He saw her mouth open in shock, saw her body spin around; then Garner slammed him to the floor of the dais. Someone kicked the Glock away; Garner struck him a blow to the back of his head.

"Use them to bring reconciliation among the races and healing to political wounds, that we may truly become 'one nation under God,' " the Reverend Dr. Fred Grimes intoned just before the screaming began and all hell broke loose.

SOMETIMES WE all need luck in addition to skill," Secretary Dennis Paull said. "And you, Jack, had both today."

Jack was sitting in a small cubicle inside the offices of Homeland Security. Across the table from him were Secretary Paull and Edward Carson, the new President of the United States. It was eight hours after the incident. Since then, Jack had been under arrest, in isolation, just as Brady had predicted.

"That was quite a heroic thing you did today, Jack." Carson waved Paull's protest to silence. "You saved not only my life but the lives of hundreds of people, all vital to the running of this country. That was a vial of anthrax Nina Miller was about to open."

Jack moved his head from side to side with some difficulty. His body still throbbed and ached from the beating Hugh Garner and his cohorts had delivered in the aftermath of the shooting. "And the vial Alli was carrying?"

"Confectioner's sugar," Paull said. "Thank God."

Personally, Jack didn't believe God had anything to do with it, but this was neither the time nor the place to say it. "Is she all right?"

"In light of what's happened, she's being evaluated more carefully this time," the president said.

Paull opened a slim file. "The doctors found a small bit of matter encrusted in the fold behind one ear."

"So Brady did drug her."

Paull nodded. "So far, the lab has identified Sodium Pentothal and curare. There's another, more complex substance the techs are still trying to analyze, but they figure it must be something that caused her to metabolize the other substances with unusual rapidity."

"Jack," Carson said, "do you know how he got to Nina Miller?"

"No, but I can make an educated guess," Jack said. "Nina was traumatized early in life. Her brother molested her."

"We know all about that," Paull cut in. "It's in her file. Her psychological profile was perfectly normal."

"Profiles, like Alli's medical exam, can be faulty," Jack pointed out. "Even more so with psych tests. Nina couldn't bear the fact that her brother was a successful married man."

"Wait a minute." Paull held up a hand. "Nina's brother was killed twelve years ago in a drive-by in Richmond, Virginia. One shot through the head."

"Why would she lie to me about that?" Jack's synapses began firing again. "Did the cops ever find out who the killer was?"

Paull shook his head. "Apart from the bullet, there was no evidence-no motivation either. They gave up, said it was a case of mistaken identity."

"What if it wasn't?" Jack said. "What if Nina met Brady twelve years ago? What if he proposed a plan: He murders her brother, and in return, she becomes his accomplice."

Paull began to sweat at the thought of the terrible mistakes he'd made professionally and personally.

"Brady was like a chess master-he planned his moves far ahead of time," Jack continued. "The night he went out the window, he told me he'd killed his parents. At the time, I thought he was simply goading me, but now I can see a pattern. He felt he was justified in killing his parents, for whatever reason. Taking a look at Nina's file gave him his opportunity. My guess is he sought her out. Nina felt that there was a privilege in loneliness. She said it made her feel alive, introduced her to herself. People like her are split off from themselves. They'll pass even the most stringent psychological testing because at the moment, they believe what they say."

Paull winced. He could feel Nina's sweat-slicked body moving against him, her breath in his ear, her deep groans. He felt quite faint.

Jack shifted to rid himself of a stab of pain. "In the course of my investigation, I met a young woman, tough and smart-in many ways a younger version of Nina. Brady got to her. She was a nihilist just like him. I'm betting he found the darkness in Nina and pried her open. He was a master at mentoring."

In his mind's eye, Paull saw an image of himself walking into the bookshop where he'd ordered Summer Rain, Nina's favorite novel. The dealer insisted he examine it before he bought it. It chronicled the struggle of an immigrant family, rootless and uneducated, marginalized by an indifferent society. He'd thought nothing of it then, but in light of what had happened since, he agreed with Jack. Nina's love of the book was a reflection of her inner darkness. Why hadn't he recognized it? But of course he knew. He'd blinded himself to the signs because her detachment, her rootlessness, her lack of desire for commitment or a family made her the perfect mistress.

"Good God." President Carson ran a hand through his hair. "This entire episode is monstrous." He turned his telegenic eyes on Paull. "My Administration will have zero tolerance for psychopathic agents, Dennis. You and your brethren are going to have to devise an entirely different yardstick to measure your candidates." He stood. "Excuse me, I'm going to deliver the same message to the new director of national security."

He leaned over the table, gave Jack's hand a hearty shake. "Thank you, Jack. From the bottom of my heart."

After he'd gone, Jack and Paull sat across from each other in an uncomfortable silence.

Jack leaned forward. "I'm only going to say this once: For the record, despite his best efforts, I didn't kill him, he killed himself."

"I believe you." Paull's voice was weary. "What went wrong, Jack?"

Jack rubbed the back of his head. "Brady-or whatever his name is-was no good to you anymore, sir. All he wanted was to impose a lasting legacy. He wanted to make a statement of the greatest magnitude. I imagine you'll agree that obliterating virtually the entire U.S. government at a time when the reins of power were being exchanged, when the country was most vulnerable, more than qualifies."

"Are you saying he was making a political statement?"

"I doubt it. Brady had moved beyond such considerations. He despised humankind, hated what he felt civilization had done to the world. He felt we were heading toward a dead end."

"You have my personal thanks." Secretary Paull stared at Jack for a long time. At length, he cleared his throat. "On another note, you'll be pleased to know that there's no sign of the organization known as E-Two. Frankly, I suspect it never existed. The former Administration required a domestic bogeyman to go after its main objective-the missionary secularists. Maybe E-Two was fabricated by the former National Security Advisor."

"Or maybe Brady came up with the idea," Jack said. "After all, misdirection was his forte, and those FASR defectors had to go somewhere."