Iris Johansen - Final Target

"No, one of the wounded Secret Service men verified that Travis wasn't one of the attackers and did save Cassie."

"But you're not searching for him to give him a medal."

"I asked how he knew about the attempt and he said he dealt in information, among other commodities."

"That's true. He's bartered several bits of information to us over the years. But if he wanted to interfere, why didn't he just call the Secret Service and warn them?"

"That was my question. He said he'd found out too late and the attack was already in progress."

"Fishy."

"He'd just saved my child. It wasn't the moment to give him the third degree. We thought we had plenty of time. And we knew right away that something wasn't right with Cassie. She was our first priority. She still is." His lips tightened. "Travis told me I might not have been the target. They might have wanted Cassie."

"What?"

"What better way to bend a father's will than to threaten his child?"

"Did he name names?"

"If he had, don't you think I'd have given them to you? He said he didn't know. He knew only that there was going to be an attack on Vasaro."

"Did you think he was lying?"

"How do I know? But if he's so good at gathering information, then he can damn well find out who was behind the attack. You don't seem to be doing the job."

"The three dead men had terrorist affiliations."

"But also were known to work for hire. You haven't come up with any solid leads."

"We're working on it."

"Then work harder. And bring me Travis." He spoke to the driver. " Pull over, George." After the limousine glided to a stop, he leaned over and opened the door. "I'll have George place a call and have you picked up. I want to hear something positive from you within twenty-four hours."

Danley got out of the car. "I'll do my best, Mr. President."

"Do better than that." He slammed the door and leaned back on the seat. God, he hoped he'd lit a fire under Danley. There was something seriously wrong when it took all this time to track down just one man.

"Juniper, Mr. President?" George asked.

"Yes." Take him to the serene beauty of that old house in the country and let him sit beside Cassie, who existed in a world he could never enter. Cassie, who seemed to be fading away more and more with every passing day.

He blinked rapidly as he felt tears burn his eyes. Jessica Riley had said that Cassie was not any worse, but God knows how she could tell.

Maybe she could though. Maybe dealing with children like Cassie had given her a sixth sense about them. It was his wife, Chelsea, who had urged him to try Jessica Riley. She'd read a book Jessica had written about her work with her younger sister, Melissa, who had been in a state similar to Cassie's for over six years. Melissa was now attending Harvard, apparently completely cured. He'd checked Jessica out and found that she had excellent qualifications, but her treatments were sometimes unorthodox and controversial.

Well, maybe they needed unorthodox. He had no faith in any psychiatrist, but he'd do anything if it meant getting Cassie back.

And keeping her safe.

And to keep her safe he needed information, the information Michael Travis might be able to give him.

Where the devil was Travis?

Amsterdam

Was he being followed?

Travis's heart jumped as he saw the shadowy figure in the darkness behind him.

He cut down Kerkstraat to Leidsestraat, went through an alley, and then ran two blocks north. His breath was labored as he ducked into an alcove and waited.

No one.

He moved quickly down the street. Ten minutes later he was climbing the steps to his flat. He checked the door for booby traps, then flung it open.

Darkness.

He always left the lights on. He whirled and tore down the stairs.

"Is that any way to treat an old friend?" Sean Galen was leaning over the banister. "You'd think you didn't want to see me."

"You turned the lights off, damn you." Travis started back up.

"I was resting my eyes. I've had a long day." He grinned. "Besides, I wanted to see how sharp you were. You're a little on edge."

"A little." He followed Galen into the flat and closed the door. "What are you doing in Amsterdam? I thought you were going back to California."

" I was about to take off from Paris when I happened on a bit of information. Since you've been on the fly and incommunicado since Vasaro, it took almost a week to locate you." His smile faded. "You have blood on your temple."

"Do I?" He went into the bathroom and washed his face. "Just a scrape."

"Maybe made by a bullet whistling a little too close?"

He didn't answer as he dabbed at his face with the towel. "How did you find me?"

"Don't worry, no one else knows about this place here…yet. I wouldn't have been able to trace you if not for your old friend van der Beck. My God, what have you gotten yourself into, Michael?"

"Something immensely profitable, but it takes careful handling."

" I hear both the Russians and South Africans are after you."

"True. But there's always a chance they'll trip over each other trying to get to me."

" I wouldn't count on it. You take too many risks."

"The pot calling the kettle black. Is that what you came to tell me?"

"I came to tell you the CIA has traced you to Amsterdam."

Travis stiffened. "Oh, have they?"

"I told you to leave the kid and get out of Vasaro before Andreas got there."

"That wasn't an option."

"Any more than it was an option not to go to Vasaro."

"You never know when you need a favor from the President."

"Bull. You knew it would be trouble."

"You came along."

"I owed you. I still owe you. You had the good taste to save my neck that time in Rome and I value my life highly. But I didn't hobnob with Andreas. We were lucky to get you out. The place was crawling with Secret Service and French police, and none of them were pleased that they'd screwed up on the job."

" But you did get me out."

"And then you ran straight to Moscow and into the lion's mouth."

Travis smiled. "But he has such bright, sparkling teeth."

" I think you have a death wish."

"No, I have a life wish, the life I want, exactly the way I want it." He added, "It's going to be a beautiful bonanza, Galen. I wouldn't mind sharing it with you."

Galen raised his brows. "And what do I have to do?"

"Nothing that you haven't already done. Van der Beck is taking care of the negotiations. I'd just like you along on the gravy train. You've always been a good friend to me."

"Damn straight I have." He shook his head. "I don't want to profit from just sitting on my ass, and I don't get a thrill out of walking tightropes anymore."

"Neither do I."

"The hell you don't. You don't know any other life."

"I intend to learn."

Galen shrugged. "Then get out of Amsterdam."

"My thought exactly."

"Do you need any help? I could make arrangements."

It might not be a bad idea. Besides his main occupation of troubleshooting, no one was better than Galen at slipping in and out of difficult situations. Travis thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No."

"Suit yourself. Anything else?"

"Yes. Who's heading the CIA team?"

"Big stuff. Ben Danley."

"What do you know about him?"

"Not much. Why?"

"Just looking for a way out."

"Try the nearest airport." Galen's gaze narrowed. "I can see the wheels turning. What are you up to?"

"Do me a favor. Send the CIA here."

"What?"

"Make sure the CIA finds out where I am. I don't have much time. I want them bursting in here within the next few hours."

"What are you up to?"

"I was wondering how I could get out of Amsterdam. Isn't it lucky Andreas wants me in Washington?"