Chapter 18

CHAPTER18

“Pillsbury has left the building.”

Griffin breathed a huge sigh of relief after glancing at the incoming text message from Agent Slade. The team had barely thirty minutes until the meeting time and he needed to concentrate on the scene around him. Now that Marin was out of the White House and would soon be safe at Fort McNair for the evening, he could focus on nabbing Salenko and finally having his link to The Artist.

The president’s residence was heavily guarded with a double contingent of Uniformed Division staff surveilling the grounds and Sam’s Counter Assault Team on duty inside the White House, so it was unlikely that even a rogue squirrel could enter the estate uninvited. But Salenko was a skilled mercenary with deadly intent. Griffin believed there could never be too many safeguards where the Ukrainian was concerned. And this whole evening had him on edge.

The FBI was assigned the lead in tonight’s op, making Griffin feel a bit superfluous. He was once again second in command to Leslie. They were both overseeing the operation from a remote command post inside a van parked in Georgetown, two blocks from the designated meeting place. A light rain had just begun to fall, stirring up an eerie cloud of fog that was floating up to their location from the Potomac River a block away.

“This doesn’t make sense to me,” Griffin said. “Why here? There are restaurants and bars all up and down the street. Salenko has to know we’ll be staking the place out. He also has to know we won’t just give him Marin. What’s his game?”

“He’s getting desperate?” Leslie proposed with a shrug. She took a sip from her coffee. “This is the same guy who seriously blundered his attempt at Marin earlier this week. If Salenko is anything like those buffoons who tried to kill you both the other night, he’s not very clever. He knows we’re on to him and he’s scared, so he’s taking crazy risks.”

“No.” Griffin shook his head as the sense of unease began to swell through his body. “This guy is too well trained to take risks. And everything he’s done thus far has been highly calculated.” He slammed his fist into the side of the van. “We’re missing something here. I feel it.”

Leslie eyed him cautiously. “Okay. Talk to me. You have the best gut instincts of anyone in this business. What’s yours telling you right now?”

“That we are being set up.” He jumped from his chair and opened the back door. “I’m headed back to the White House. You stay here and see this through just in case I’m wrong.”

Except Griffin didn’t feel wrong at all.

He commandeered one of the SUVs and raced back down K Street, through Foggy Bottom and along Pennsylvania Avenue. Unfortunately, there was a logjam of people celebrating the passage of the president’s jobs bill blocking the northeast gate. Griffin swore. Of all the nights to have extra civilians camped out around the White House. He weaved around the crowds and drove around the block, coming up Seventeenth Street to the West Wing staff entrance.

“You’re not authorized to park in this lot,” the Uniformed Division officer manning the southeast gate shouted at Griffin.

“Take it up with the director,” Griffin said as he drove into the parking area.

Unfortunately, it seemed as if every employee of the West Wing was working late. He ended up ditching the car in the communications director’s vacant spot. Entering the West Wing, Griffin chucked the keys to the guard just in case the communications director returned. Then, he sprinted down the hall to the Secret Service overflow area and lounge. He checked the electronic status board to see that the president was currently in the residence, which meant Adam would be there, too.

Griffin stormed up the stairs, coming to a halt at the crowd assembled outside the cabinet room. An impromptu party was happening among the staff and they were blocking Griffin’s progress. He huffed in frustration, trying to circumvent the people lining up for glasses of champagne, while not bringing attention to himself. Unfortunately, he was unsuccessful.

“Agent Keller!” the president’s chief of staff called out just as Griffin was rounding the corner to the west colonnade that would take him to the residence.

“Damn.” Griffin swore under his breath as he stopped in his tracks to wait for the chief of staff to catch up.

“What are you doing back here?” the man demanded of Griffin. “Has the situation been resolved?”

“Not yet, sir,” Griffin said. “I just need to follow up on something here in the residence.”

And he couldn’t afford to have the chief of staff hold him up. He needed to find Adam. Griffin was being insubordinate, but he took a step anyway. The other man kept pace with him.

“Tell me the president and his family aren’t in danger, Agent Keller.”

“I can’t tell you that, sir, because I still don’t know what this guy has up his sleeve.” They crossed through the Palm Room. Griffin was glad to see the two marine guards at their posts.

“You don’t believe we’ll be able to rescue Mrs. Ranjbar?”

They stopped outside of Director Worcester’s office.

“I don’t believe that’s this guy’s intent, no,” Griffin said.

“What is his damn intent, Agent Keller?” the chief of staff demanded.

“If I knew that I wouldn’t be standing here, sir.”

Director Worcester and Adam rushed to the center hall at the sounds of their raised voices. Adam took one look at Griffin’s face and began rapidly firing orders via the communication device he wore on his arm, demanding each of the members of his team check-in.

“What’s going on, Agent Keller?” Director Worcester asked.

“I think Salenko is setting us up.”

The president’s chief of staff swore violently.

The Secret Service director remained stoic. “For what purpose?”

“I haven’t figured that out yet.”

Griffin’s cell phone rang. He glanced at the screen and saw Ben’s name.

“Tell me something good, Ben,” Griffin said into his phone. “Has anything shown up on the net of video cameras around the meeting place?”

“Nothing yet, but I’ve uncovered something else and you’re not going to like it,” Ben answered.

“Let me go into the director’s office and I’ll put you on speaker.”

The men gathered around the table. The president’s chief of staff paced the room while the others listened intently.

“I’ve been investigating how Salenko is accessing the White House undetected,” Ben explained. “I entered several variables in order to come up with an initial standard deviation, allowing for some volatility within my sample mean—”

“In English, Ben!” Adam interjected.

“Right, right,” Ben said. “Basically, I ended up with the hypothesis that Salenko is entering through the front door.”

“What?” both the director and chief of staff shouted.

“Hear me out,” Ben added. “My premise is that he’s posing as someone else who has regular access to the mansion. So, I ran facial recognition comparisons with every employee, contractor, and subcontractor who has clearance to be in the White House. After several hours, I came up with a hit. Salenko is a dead ringer for the subcontractor who maintains the pool and the solar panels on the cabana.”

Adam exchanged a look with Griffin.

“There’s an underground passage that runs from the cabana to the ground floor of the residence. The First Family uses it to access the pool area,” Adam whispered before stepping out into the lobby, presumably to check on the area around the pool and the passage.

“The guy’s name is Willem Dunst,” Ben went on to say. “I made a few calls. The real Willem Dunst broke his back three months ago and has been on disability ever since, yet his credentials have been swiped granting him access to the White House at least six times since then. He was here on the morning Marin saw Salenko on the back stairs and again later that afternoon. The credentials were also used on Monday when the other chef was attacked. And guys, here’s the part you’re not gonna like… Dunst’s credentials were swiped again forty minutes ago.”

All three men moved at once. Director Worcester pressed the silent alarm on his desk that would lock down the building. The president’s chief of staff headed upstairs to move the president and his family to the secure room located in the sub-basement of the building. Griffin swiftly moved through the center hallway, commanding the other agents and Uniformed Division officers on guard to fan out and check the rooms on the ground floor. He pulled his service revolver and slowly climbed the spiral staircase to the mezzanine level.

The pastry kitchen was filled with several ozone machines meant to rid the room of its heavy smoke smell. The oven had been removed and the space remained empty awaiting its replacement. Ben said that Salenko had returned to the White House after Marin had spotted him on the stairs that day. There was only one reason the Ukrainian had come back. Griffin thought of Salenko deliberately setting the combustible materials into the oven in an effort to kill Marin and his pulse began to throb violently.

She’s safe.

He pulled up the text Agent Slade had sent him earlier letting him know Marin had left the building. The time stamp was twenty-seven minutes ago. Ben said Salenko entered the White House some forty minutes ago. Griffin’s chest seized as he jumped down the spiral staircase to the pantry. He dialed Agent Groesch at the safe house.

She answered on the second ring. “Hey there, Griff,” she said. “How’d it go? Did you get him?”

“Let me talk to Marin,” Griffin demanded.

“Marin? Todd’s not back with her yet. I assume she’s still at the White House.”

“Fuck!” A cold knot of fear tightened around Griffin’s heart as he raced down the center hall. “Slade!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.

A moment later the agent appeared out the East Room. “Right here, Agent Keller. What—”

He didn’t wait for the agent to finish, instead slamming him up against the wall outside the Green Room. “You texted me that she’d left the damn house!”

“She did,” Agent Slade said beneath the forearm Griffin had pinned to his neck. “I-I mean when I went back out there, she and the dog were already in the car and Todd was driving away with them.”

“Did you see Todd in the car?”

The agent gulped against Griffin’s arm. “N-no. But he’s not here.”

A crowd of agents and Uniformed Division officers gathered around them.

“Cut it out, Griffin.” Adam grabbed him by the lapels and shook him. “What the hell’s going on?”

The words burned in the back of Griffin’s numb throat. “Salenko’s got Marin.”

* * *

Marin now understood what it meant to be paralyzed with fear. The SUV continued on its path to God-only-knew-where and she couldn’t seem to move a muscle to stop it. The mad man driving hadn’t uttered a word. Next to her, Otto kept up his low, rumbling growl while Marin tried to push air through lungs that threatened to strangle her.

The SUV picked up speed when they merged onto a highway. They crossed the river and panic squeezed Marin more tightly. He was taking her further away from the White House. From the Secret Service. From Griffin. The rain began to fall in earnest, the drops cascading down the windows like the tears Marin was too frozen to cry.

Ten minutes later, they exited the highway onto a road with more stoplights. Her captor had to decrease his speed to merge with the flow of traffic. If Marin was going to escape, she needed to do it now. A few broken bones jumping from a moving car was surely preferable to what awaited her at the other end of this wild ride.

She forced her fingers to move, quietly unclasping the seat belt. Slowly, she slid toward the door. Marin was relieved when Otto instinctively moved with her. Waiting for a red light, she prayed that someone in another car would stop and help her after she landed. The SUV began to slow and Marin couldn’t wait any longer. She tried the door, but it was locked. Gulping in a breath, she attempted to turn the lock, but it wouldn’t budge. Her captor smiled grimly in the rearview mirror.

His expression angered her and that fury propelled her to keep trying. She turned to hurl herself over the backseat and out the rear door, but she was stopped short by the body staring back at her. Agent Todd, his eyes bulging out and his mouth fixed wide-open in terror, lay crumpled in the back. He wasn’t breathing. Marin’s shriek of fear was swallowed up by the bile rising up the back of her throat. Otto crowded onto her lap pinning her to the leather seat.

The tears that she’d been unable to cry before were now streaming down Marin’s cheeks. She thought of her family—she wouldn’t be able to say goodbye to her parents, her brothers, or grandparents. Or even Ava whom she loved like a sister in spite of her cousin’s demanding personality.

And Griffin.

He would be devastated by her death. Not because he loved her the way she loved him. But because it was his job to protect people. He was passionate about his career. And he was good at it. Griffin would take her death as a personal failure. She ached for him. Her family would have each other for comfort once she was gone. But who would Griffin have? The image of Agent Morgan comforting Griffin had Marin gulping down an agonized sob.

The car made a sharp left turn. Marin glanced out the window, but the darkness made it difficult for her to determine where they were going. They’d left the more populated area and headed into a ratty looking industrial park. There was no evidence of another human being in sight which meant screaming for help would be futile. She wrapped her arms around Otto’s tense body.

“You will not die.”

The unexpected sound of the mad man’s husky voice made Marin jump. She met his icy stare in the rearview mirror. Otto’s growl became more menacing.

Marin didn’t believe a word out of his mouth. “Then take me back.”

“That, I cannot do.”

“How does Bita fit into all of this?” Marin demanded.

“You will see.”

Marin shivered. Despite the other woman’s duplicity, Marin hoped for Arabelle’s sake the little girl’s grandmother would not look like Agent Todd when she did come face-to-face with the woman.

He pulled the SUV up to a deserted loading dock. There were several white vans parked in the lot, but they all were unoccupied. After turning off the engine, Marin’s captor opened his door. Marin quickly tried her door again, but to no avail. She swallowed another sob.

“You will come quietly. Or I will kill the dog,” the man said matter-of-factly.

He exited the driver’s seat and Marin noticed he was favoring his left arm. Her pulse sped up. Could she overpower him when he opened her door? Since it was likely she didn’t have anything else to lose, she decided to try it. Marin was stronger than she looked and people often misjudged her athleticism. She was hoping this guy did, as well.

Keeping Otto from making the first move would be tricky. She tried to remember the Dutch commands she’d overheard the K-9 officers use with their dogs.

“Blijf,” she ordered in a trembling voice, adding a whispered “wait” for good measure. She prayed Otto listened because Marin was already carrying around the weight of too many deaths at the hands of this mad man.

The door opened and her captor was careful to block any escape route. He was as wiry as she remembered, but he carried himself in a way that screamed lethal. Marin shivered and ducked her head. She wasn’t sure if she could carry out her plan if she got a look at his cold eyes. Slowly, she climbed out of the car. Otto growled in protest, but, thankfully the dog didn’t move. When her feet touched the asphalt, Marin leaned forward, snapping her head up swiftly so that her scalp connected sharply with her captor’s chin. The move had the desired effect, startling him so he lost his balance.

Otto sprung from the backseat like a leopard, pouncing on him just as Marin tried to slip between the man and the SUV. In her worry over the dog, she hesitated. It was long enough for the man to trip her. She landed hard on the asphalt to the sound of Otto’s painful whimper.

“No!” she cried.

She winced in pain as he yanked her up off the ground by her ponytail and jerked her against his body. He flashed a bloody knife in front of her face.

“I told you what would happen to the dog if you misbehaved,” he hissed against her ear.

Marin’s hands and knees stung from the road rash she’d gotten landing on the pavement. Her stomach lurched as he dragged her up the steps to the warehouse. When they got to the top, she hazarded a look back for Otto, hoping his death was at least swift. But she couldn’t see anything through her watery eyes. He inserted a key into the dead bolt and opened the door. The room was dimly lit and it smelled of chlorine.

“I told you not to hurt her!” Bita cried as she raced over to where he’d tossed Marin onto the concrete floor.

Marin recoiled from the older woman’s hand. “Don’t you dare touch me!” she choked out as she scrambled to a seated position.

Bita had the audacity to look offended. “Chef Marin,” Bita pleaded. “Please, this is not my fault.”

A hysterical laugh escaped Marin’s mouth. “Oh, really? This wouldn’t be happening if you hadn’t used your granddaughter to lure me here. Or if you hadn’t stolen valuable art from the White House. Tell me again how this isn’t your fault?”

The older woman knelt down beside Marin. “I didn’t know what was in the packages,” she whispered.

Marin’s mouth gaped incredulously.

“I didn’t!” Bita insisted.

“They know it was you,” Marin said. “The Secret Service. The FBI. The president.”

“Arabelle?” Bita’s eyes glistened.

“When I don’t come back tomorrow, Arabelle will be devastated. And that’s on you.”

Bita reared back and slapped Marin across the mouth. Hard. Marin gasped, tasting blood.

“Leave her!” their captor yelled from across the room where he’d been typing out a text. “She is the only thing that is keeping me from killing you, Bita. Don’t tempt me to change my plans.”

“You will tell the conglomerate to give me what I want,” Bita demanded regally after getting to her feet. She launched into rapid-fire Farsi as she stormed across the room. Creepy Guy didn’t flinch. He simply leveled his frozen gaze at Bita.

“No,” he said.

Bita twirled around angrily, but Marin was ready for her this time. She leaped to her feet so that she towered over the other woman. Before Bita could react, however, the door was flung open and several heavily armed men swarmed into the room. Her captor acted as though he expected them.

“What have we here, Yerik?” one of the men asked.

He was heavy-set with sagging jowls and protruding eyebrows. Ironically, he was also dressed smartly in a finely tailored suit, as if they were all attending an evening dinner party and not staring one another down in a dirty warehouse. The other four men seemed to take their cues from him.

“Are we to be entertained by women fighting tonight? Or are we to enjoy the pleasure of your White House mole?”