The president’s eyebrows shoot upward. I expect had this been any other situation, I’d receive a severe dressing down for my temerity. But he gets the urgency. “Winston’s been with me since I took office. He’s one of my senior aides… currently Deputy Chief of Staff for Operations.”
“You didn’t bring him over from when you were VP,” I point out, meaning I don’t know the man at all.
Alexander shakes his head. “No. Actually, he was recommended to me by Chief of Staff Lydia Forrester.”
“And does he have access to your email?” Kynan asks.
The president swings his head Kynan’s way. “Not my official government email. But he does my personal email. He’s sort of like a social secretary in a way. He checks my personal email for me as I don’t have time some days. Forwards me the important stuff and has the authority to respond to some things without me.”
“And he read the email from Barrett?” I hazard a guess.
Alexander nods. “Yes. In fact, he brought it right to my attention. Printed me off a copy.”
Kynan and I exchange a look, prompting the president to ask, “Do you think he’s responsible for Barrett’s kidnapping?”
“We don’t know,” I say truthfully, but it sure looks that way. “After the email was read, he called out on his extension to a number registered to a flower shop.”
“And what could that possibly mean?” the president asks, frowning with confusion.
“Might mean nothing, except that a few moments later, some type of spyware was deployed from the servers here in the Oval Office to trace backward to the source of the email. It’s how Barrett and I were located.”
“Son of a bitch,” President Alexander mutters as he drags his hand through his hair. He glances between me and Kynan before settling on me. “Should I get Lydia Forrester in here? He worked for her in the private sector before I brought her on as chief of staff.”
“No,” Kynan replies with a shake of his head. “Given their ties before coming to work for you, they could be in collusion.”
“I just can’t believe this,” Alexander says in a voice that sounds as lost as he looks. He walks to the couch, sits down heavily, and sighs. “People in my own office?”
“We want to talk to Winston Carnes,” I say. “Can you call him in here?”
“Of course,” the president replies. He pops right back off the couch, eager to do something that will progress this all forward.
Kynan and I stand by silently as Alexander hurries to his desk phone and pushes a button that rings through to Carnes’ extension. It comes through on the speaker.
“Yes, sir,” Carnes answers crisply.
“Can you come into my office?” Alexander asks, his voice a mask of calm perfection despite the fact he must be bristling on the inside.
“Of course, sir. Be right there.”
Alexander disconnects. In no more than thirty seconds, there’s a knock on the door before it opens.
Winston Carnes is thirty-four years old, but he looks about twenty. Kynan and I had his basic resume, including info on where he was born, education, and family ties through a social media search, all thanks to Bebe’s quick skills. He shares the same political leanings as his president, as expected, so it’s a little hard to accept Barrett has been in danger from someone this close to the Oval Office.
Still… I shot a Secret Service agent who was supposed to protect Alexander, so traitors do indeed exist.
Regardless, Carnes is single, lives with four cats, and doesn’t appear to have much of a social life. He’s skinny, pale, and doesn’t appear overly confident, but he’ll use his brain to try to outsmart us. My guess is if he’s working against Barrett, it’s at someone’s behest. If so, I’d rather know that information sooner rather than later.
Carnes’ eyes go to the president first, then to me, and finally to Kynan, where he gives us a polite nod. He holds an iPad with a digital pen poised. “Yes, sir. What can I do for you?”
I don’t have time for polite conversation, nor do I think it would be effective. Instead, I choose brute force.
Stalking up to Carnes, I slap the iPad out of his hand. The tablet crashes to the floor. While it doesn’t break into a million pieces because Apple makes structurally sound products, I’m quite sure it’s broken.
There’s a moment of stunned silence where I take the opportunity to grab Carnes by the lapels of his suit and swing him around. Shoving him backward toward the wall, I slam his body into it. His head snaps backward, and the painting on the wall shudders. He grunts from the force of the impact against his kidneys.
In surprised annoyance, Kynan barks, “For fuck’s sake,” while lunging at me.
President Alexander shouts, “Cruce!”
And two different doors leading into the Oval Office fly open, Secret Service agents pouring in with weapons drawn.
I don’t move a muscle, merely hold Carnes in place with my face right in his, glaring harshly.
“It’s okay,” the president exclaims, presumably to the agents. “It’s fine. I want everyone out of here right now.”
I can hear footsteps receding and doors closing. Kynan stands at my back, not saying a word. The fact Alexander just chased everyone out of his office implied I had permission to move forward with intimidation tactics.
At least that’s the way I’m taking it.
“Now,” I murmur, as if I’m having a nice, private conversation with Carnes. “Tell me who you work for and why you want Barrett Alexander.”
“I-I-I-don’t know what you mean,” he stutters in response, but all I hear is lies.
I’m all for efficiency. I need him to clearly understand I’m not going to take my time working up to the point where I’m tired of asking questions.
I haul my right hand back, then cock it at my hip. With a hard twist of my hips, I deliver a vicious upper cut to his stomach. I catch him just below the breastbone, driving upward.
Carnes doubles over, gasping for breath and moaning. I grab him by the hair, forcing his head back. He looks at me with tears leaking out of his eyes. “I am not going to stop hitting you. Not until you break and tell me what I need to know. I’m going to get the truth from you, and no one in this office is going to stop me or save you. And once my knuckles get sore, I’m going to start cutting you. And if you make me work hard for it, the president is going to make sure you get absolutely no leniency from the federal prosecutors. It means you’re facing decades, if not life, behind bars for whatever your involvement is. But if you make this easy on us, because we’re all very worried about Barrett, then we will let the prosecutors know you cooperated. If your cooperation helps us get Barrett back unharmed, I’m sure the president will be incredibly grateful.”
Carnes wheezes, his eyes wide and bulging as they cut over to Alexander and then back to me.
“Now,” I say very calmly. “Those are your choices. What’s it going to be?”
“It’s Clarence Scavino,” he blurts out.
I jerk in surprise, honestly figuring it would have taken a few more punches to get him softened enough to spill his guts. Maybe something is finally fucking going right.