FORTY

At Hawk’s Nest, Abigail Jordan was sitting with Victoria, Pack McHenry’s wife, on the big wraparound porch. The perfectly quaffed platinum blonde in her late fifties said she was flying through Denver on the way to Los Angeles. She had an urgent message that she needed to deliver to Abigail in person, something from her husband Pack that had surfaced just after their recent visit together in Washington.

Abigail had brought out some tea, but neither was drinking it yet.

Abigail and Victoria had hit it off fabulously in D.C. when they had brunch together. Though Victoria never said it out loud, Abigail had assumed that she had experience in the clandestine services herself, just like her husband. It was implied in the way she talked — her knowledge of national security issues and the “agency” lingo she used so proficiently. Just a hunch. But Abigail was sure she was right.

Victoria asked, “You’re running things in the Roundtable for the time being?”

“Until Josh gets back.”

“Pack speaks very highly of you, and of Josh too.”

“Funny. Josh thinks the same about you and Pack. It’s too bad our talks are always so crisis driven. So little time for real conversation. That’s why I enjoyed our lunch together.”

When Victoria spoke next, there was regret in her voice, “Well, Abby I’m afraid we need to get down to brass tacks.”

“I understand. So, speaking of crises, you said you had a message?”

Victoria’s expression changed. It was all business. “Here it is. Pack says the most recent intel — and I am talking within the last twelve hours — is that we now know the targets and the general staging areas.”

Abigail felt a nervous fluttering in her stomach. “For the attacks?”

“Yes. Pack has filtered this information down the line to the right people in the federal agencies, but he wants to scream bloody murder because no one is listening, or if they are, then their hands are tied.” Victoria paused before she delivered her caveat. “This information is arguably classified. I emphasize arguably. Do you want to hear it? You know the repercussions.”

“I know the consequences if we do nothing. Josh and I don’t believe in sitting on the sidelines. So tell me what you can.”

“The targets are New York and Washington, D.C. The staging areas are lower New York State, or possibly New Jersey, and Virginia, respectively. The nuclear devices are small enough to be transported by a medium-sized truck, much smaller than a semi. And we’re just a matter of days away. Pack is over in Paris right now, coordinating this information. He’s getting this from one of the Russian republics. So that’s what I know. What can your people do?”

“John Gallagher, a former special agent for the FBI, is out on his own right now trying to turn up leads. We couldn’t get a consensus from the Roundtable for any specific funding.”

“Did Pack’s budget summary come through?”

“It did, and I sent it immediately to each member of the group. Josh and I are willing to put up some money. Beverly Rose Cortez has personally pledged a boatload. But everybody’s jittery. The Department of Justice is looking into our operations … you know what that means.”

Victoria gave a look that let Abigail know they were on the same track. Victoria pushed her teacup away. “Before I go, I’ll give you the account information and routing numbers to wire the money. Pack has lined up men, equipment, as much as he can, you know, to try to interdict these mass murderers, just in case the Feds really do stand down on this. But this whole operation is off ledger. So it has to be privately funded.” Then Victoria added, “And one more piece of data. According to Pack, the Russians said that the staging site for the Washington attack was — and this is a direct quote from surveillance — ‘a blast from the past,’ whatever that means.”

Abigail leaned back in her chair. She took a deep breath. This was no time for hand-wringing. Action needed to be taken. She said, “I’m going to contact John Gallagher immediately and give him this information. This is frightening, like a bad dream … We’ve got to stop this horror from happening, but everybody, everything is moving in slow motion.”

“Do you have any family in D.C. or New York? You may want to get them out right now.”

“No, thank goodness. We have a penthouse. No one’s there. But … oh no, our housekeeper’s still in New York. I’ll need to find a reason to get her out of town. Cal is here with me and has a few more days before classes start up. And Deborah should be back at West Point by now …” Abigail knew she was missing something in her thinking about her daughter, but she kept talking. “How close is West Point to D.C.? Dear Lord, it’s only about forty miles. I have to get her out immediately.”

“We have a condo in Manhattan too. I’m out of town now until we find out what’s happening. And Pack of course is over in France …”

Abigail looked off to the mountains and drifted away for a second. Then she said, “You and Pack must spend a lot of time apart.”

“Part of the deal, I guess. It gets a little easier with time. But it’s never really easy. You try to manage, try not to become strangers; you work at loving each other, to keep it together. And the pressure, of course, of what he does …”

There was a catch in Victoria’s voice. Abigail heard it. She reached over and squeezed her hand and then found herself getting teary eyed. “I do wish Josh was here. All this is overwhelming.”

Victoria glanced at her watch. “Abby, dear, I have to go. Don’t want to but I must.”

Abigail nodded and got up with her.

“So,” Victoria said, “with Josh overseas you’re holding down the fort here?”

“I guess so. But I feel like the hostiles are closing in, surrounding the fort.”

“That doesn’t sound like the person I’ve heard so much about … the woman with an invincible faith in God.”

“God’s the invincible one. I wish my faith was unshakable. When I feel weak, vulnerable, that’s when I just drop down before the Lord and claim His grace. I figure if He loves me enough to send His Son to save me then He’s more than able to direct me.”

“I was raised a churchgoer, but Pack and I … that hasn’t been part of our life. Some of his Patriot group, they’re like you, really into the born-again Jesus thing. Makes me think …”

Victoria paused, as if she wanted to say more, but she didn’t. Instead she gave Abigail a warm hug, a kiss on the cheek, and then headed to her rental car.

Abigail ran inside to call Deborah, then stopped in her tracks. In the stress of the moment, she had completely forgotten that Deb wasn’t at West Point. A momentary rush of relief washed over her as she remembered that Josh had taken her to Israel with him.

But just as quickly she had another thought. Was her daughter any safer in Israel?