Part 6 (2/2)

Back in December, Shane Maddux had secretly approached Baxter to strike a deal. In exchange for immunity from being investigated in any way for his involvement in the Los Angeles a.s.sa.s.sination attempt on President Dorn, Maddux promised to bring back the second original Order from the cave on Gannett Peak in Wyoming. Maddux had also promised to round up others in Red Cell Seven who were involved in the a.s.sa.s.sination attempt.

Baxter and Maddux had known each other for years, and Baxter was convinced of Maddux's sincerity at the time. So he'd directed him to Gannett Peak.

But it had all gone wrong. Maddux and the second original of the Order had disappeared. Baxter had sent the same men who'd searched for Bill Jensen out to the mountaintop cave in Wyoming when Maddux hadn't responded to repeated attempts at contact. The men finally found the cave they believed had hidden the Order-but not the doc.u.ment itself.

It was difficult for Baxter to admit that Maddux had used him. It had been President Dorn's opinion from the start that Maddux wouldn't come through at the critical moment.

Now Baxter had those men who'd looked for Bill Jensen looking everywhere for Maddux, too. And they were to take him alive at all costs. Baxter wanted a few minutes with the b.a.s.t.a.r.d before they ended his life.

”Again,” Baxter muttered, ”I apologize, sir.”

”Apologies at this level are like words written on running water. Worthless, Stewart, worthless.”

Baxter detested being on the wrong side of an a.s.s-beating. But it seemed like it was happening more and more often with Dorn. The whipping-boy comment echoed again.

”I do have one more contact inside RC7,” Baxter spoke up, ”and I've been in touch with him.” It was a lie, but he needed to say something right now. The president would have no way of knowing the a.s.sertion was false. ”Apparently, no one inside the cell has heard from Maddux, either. Maybe he took a bullet up on Gannett Peak and died. Maybe his body's buried beneath some snowdrift. Maybe no one really controls the last original of the Order. Maybe it's gone forever.”

”You're grasping at straws,” Dorn snapped, ”and don't do it again. I can't destroy Red Cell Seven on a hope and a prayer. No, Maddux is out there plotting,” the president said, gesturing toward the darkness outside the Oval Office window. ”He's still trying to kill me. He wants to finish what he started last October in LA.”

”I've had your Secret Service coverage doubled, sir. You're in no danger.”

”Don't argue with me, Stewart,” Dorn retorted. ”Maddux is a sly son of a b.i.t.c.h. You never know with that man.”

”Relax, sir.” Baxter knew he shouldn't have said it, but he couldn't help himself. It had become a reflex response. It was what he always said when he thought Dorn was going over the top. ”Everything's fine.”

”That's what you said about my reaction to you asking for Maddux's help in acquiring the other original of the Order.”

Baxter gritted his teeth. He wanted to go back at Dorn for that one. But Dorn was the president. Worse, he was right.

”Do you find it curious that no one has heard anything from Daniel Gadanz since last December?”

Baxter's eyes raced toward the president. But Dorn was still gazing into the darkness outside the White House. ”Sir?”

”It's been nine months since the Holiday Mall Attacks, but no one's heard anything from Gadanz. The intelligence reports you gave me indicated that he was mentally unstable and getting worse. And his history is to violently take revenge on his enemies. RC7 murdered his brother, and-”

”Begging your pardon, sir, but there's some question about that,” Baxter broke in. ”Jacob's death may have, in fact, been a real accident.”

”I can a.s.sure you, Stewart,” Dorn retorted icily, ”a man like Daniel Gadanz will never believe that his brother's death was an accident.”

It was a fair point, Baxter had to admit. ”The Drug Enforcement Agency is working with many different countries, but it's hard to track him down.”

”The DEA doesn't have a chance against Daniel Gadanz.” Dorn swiveled around in the chair so he was facing his chief of staff again. ”Tell me about the rest of your conversation with Justice Espinosa.”

”I made it clear that we might need his help again. I told him if I came to him again, it wouldn't be just to review a doc.u.ment.”

”How specific were you?”

”Not at all, but he got the point.”

”Did you tell him what we know?”

”I made a reference to people having skeletons hanging in their bedroom closets, but I wasn't specific.”

Dorn stared across the desk at Baxter with a fierce expression. ”I like that. Wondering what we have is worse for him than knowing. All right then,” he said loudly as he stood up. ”It's possible we won't need Espinosa, anyway. I may have another way of taking care of Red Cell Seven that doesn't involve getting that second original of the Order.”

Baxter's ears perked up. ”What?”

”We'll discuss it tomorrow,” the president answered, checking his watch impatiently. ”I want to think on it more overnight.”

Baxter stood up, too. ”Where are you going, sir?” he asked quickly as Dorn headed for the corridor door.

”I'm exhausted, Stewart. I need some sleep.”

The First Lady was on a goodwill tour of six European capitals. The president had invented the trip, though the First Lady didn't know that. All of which had Baxter very suspicious of this sudden exit. Dorn rarely needed sleep. It was one of the things that made him so unbeatable on the campaign trail.

”Mr. President.”

Dorn stopped at the door. ”Yes, Stewart?” he asked, obviously irritated.

Dorn couldn't have a Monica Lewinsky scandal on his hands, especially with all the positive momentum going for him right now. Baxter was intensely loyal, even when he and the president weren't seeing eye to eye. More to the point, Baxter didn't want his name a.s.sociated with a scandal, especially one like that.

”Do you think it's a good idea?”

”Do I think what's a good idea?”

The Teflon syndrome was setting in. Baxter had seen its insidious effects before on other high-ranking officials. But this was the first time he'd seen Dorn yielding to it. ”Sir, I mean, we just talked about how it wasn't good for anyone to have skeletons in their bedroom closet.”

”I'm not going to my bedroom.” Dorn turned his head slightly as a warning when Baxter didn't laugh or even grin a little at the insinuation. ”Don't give me att.i.tude, Stewart. I deserve a few distractions.”

That was a fat, juicy rationalization by the leader of the free world. ”Yes, sir.”

”Do I need to hire someone who understands me better?”

”No, sir, I-” Baxter was interrupted by a sharp knock on the Oval Office door.

Dorn reached for the k.n.o.b and pulled the door open. ”Yes?”

”May I come in, sir?”

Dorn gestured inside. ”Of course.”

”Thank you, sir.”

With his eyes glued to the blue carpet, the aide slipped past the president and moved quickly to where Baxter was standing. When the young man had finished whispering to his boss, Baxter sent him back out again with a curt nod at the door. The kid sprinted from the Oval Office.

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