Final Target

  “Then maybe you should treat her when she’s sleeping. Try hypnotism or something,” Teresa said. “You’re sure not doing very well when she’s awake.”

  “Give me a break. I’ve had her for only a month. We’re just beginning to know each other,” Jessica said. But Teresa was right, there had been no obvious progress. The child had been caught in a prison of silence since the incident at Vasaro eight months before. Surely there should have been some breakthrough by now, she thought, then tried to dismiss her doubts. She was just tired. Jesus, a child lost in a catatonic state for eight months was nothing compared to other children she’d treated. But acceptance was difficult when her patient was a seven-year-old child who should be running and playing and living life to the fullest. “And it’s better if she makes the first steps back herself. I don’t want to force her.”

  “You’re the doctor,” Teresa said. “But if a lowly nurse can offer some advice, I’d—”

  “Lowly?” Jessica smiled. “Where did that come from? You’ve been telling me what I should do since my first year of residency.”

  “You needed it. I’d been around for over thirty years by then and I had to set you straight. You were one of those hotshot doctors who never knew when to stop. You still don’t. You could let us deal with the kid for one night and get eight hours’ sleep.”

  “She’s got to know I’m here for her.” She shrugged. “And I wouldn’t have been able to sleep much longer anyway. Her father’s coming to see her. He said he’d be here by three A.M.”

  Teresa gave a low whistle. “The great man is paying us a visit?”

  “No, Cassie’s father is coming to see his daughter.” Many people considered Jonathan Andreas one of the most popular presidents the United States had ever had, but Jessica didn’t think of him in those terms. From the first time she had met him a month ago, she saw him only as a father who was terribly worried about his child. “And you should know that. You’ve seen him with her. He’s just a man with a giant problem.”

  “So you put your life on hold and let him use your family home for a treatment center for his daughter. The damn place is an armed camp. You can’t even take a walk without being shadowed by some Secret Service man.”

  “It was my idea. The President wanted her hidden from the media, and this place has a certain amount of privacy and is easy to secure. Cassie has to be protected. Look what happened at Vasaro.”

  “What if the same thing happens here?”

  “It won’t. The President assured me that the security is infallible.”

  “And you trust him?”

  “Sure.” Andreas inspired trust. “And besides, he loves his daughter. He’s racked by guilt over Vasaro. He’d never risk another tragedy.”

  “You’re very generous. I’ve noticed he’s been pretty cool to you.”

  “That’s okay. I’ve an idea he’s sick and tired of dealing with psychiatrists. Besides, a family usually feels some resentment when they have to turn over their child to a stranger. We’ll work it out.” She nodded at Larry Fike, the Secret Service agent stationed outside Cassie’s door. “Hi, Larry. Did they tell you the President is paying us a visit?”

  He nodded. “Poor guy, not a good night.”

  “No.” Though there were few good nights for Cassie Andreas. “But he has to come when he can get away without suspicion. We don’t want reporters descending on us.”

  “Yep, then we’d all be having nightmares.” He opened the door for her. “The little girl was screaming pretty badly. If it hadn’t happened before, I’d have burst in there with gun drawn. I’ll give you notice when the President reaches the gates.”

  “Thanks, Larry.”

  “Do you need me?” Teresa asked.

  She shook her head. “Go make some coffee for the President. He may need it.” She nodded to the nurse sitting in the easy chair. “Thank you, Rachel. Anything I should know?”

  “What you see is what you get.” The young woman rose to her feet. “She hasn’t moved a hair since Teresa left the room.” She smiled at Cassie. “See you later, baby.”

  Jessica sat down and leaned back in the chair. She didn’t speak for a moment, letting Cassie become accustomed to her presence. The child’s color was good, but her face was pinched. Making sure she ate enough was already difficult; if she deteriorated even more, she would have to be fed intravenously. What a sad contrast this Cassie was to the pictures Jessica had seen of her before Vasaro. She’d been the darling of the White House with her long, shiny brown hair and luminous smile. Full of vitality and mischief. America’s poster child . . .

  When are you going to learn? she told herself. Don’t get all choked up. Her esteemed colleagues never passed up a chance to tell her that a doctor’s emotion never healed a patient.

  Screw them. If you didn’t let it blind and hog-tie you, love could do a hell of a lot.

  “Pretty scary dream? Would you like to tell me about it?”

  No answer. She hadn’t expected one, but she always gave Cassie the opportunity. Someday a miracle could happen and Cassie might be tempted to come out of the darkness and answer one of her questions. “Was it about Vasaro?”

  No answer.

  It was probably about Vasaro. Terror, death, and betrayal were the stuff of nightmares. But what element was the primary catalyst that had driven her away? The nurse she had loved and trusted and who had been prepared to hand her over to killers? The murder of the Secret Service guard and the nurse? It could be a combination of causes. “Your daddy is coming to visit you soon. Would you like me to brush your hair?”

  No answer.

  “It doesn’t matter. You look very pretty anyway. If you don’t mind, I’ll sit here until your daddy comes and we’ll talk a little.” She smiled. “Well, I’ll talk. You seem to have given it up for a while. That’s okay. You’ll catch up when you decide to come back. My sister, Mellie, is a real chatterbox these days, and she was as closed as a clam for six years. I hope you won’t see fit to stay away that long. Mellie’s much happier now.” Were Cassie’s locked muscles relaxing a little? “This is Mellie’s room you’re in right now. She loves yellow and I had to talk her out of lemon and ease her into wheat-colored wallpaper. The brighter the better for Mellie. But it’s a cheerful room, isn’t it?”

  No answer, but Jessica hoped that wherever she was, Cassie was listening. “Mellie’s at Harvard now, studying to be a doctor like me. I miss her very much.” She paused. “Like your mom and dad miss you. Mellie calls me every week and we talk and that helps. I bet your daddy would really like you to talk to him tonight.”

  No answer.

  “But he’ll love to be with you whether you talk to him or not. He loves you. Do you remember how he used to play with you? Yes, I know you do. You remember everything, the bad and the good. And the bad doesn’t hurt you where you are, does it? But it does hurt you when you go to sleep. If you’d come back to us, the dreams will stop, Cassie. It will take a little time, but they’ll go away.”

  She could sense that Cassie was beginning to tense again.

  “No one’s going to make you come back until you want to do it. Someday you’ll be ready and I’ll be here to help you.” She added softly, “I know the way, Cassie. Mellie and I traveled the same road. I wonder where you are. When Mellie came back, she said it was like being in a deep, dark forest with a canopy of trees overhead. But some other children who have gone away say they went to a nice cozy cave. Is that where you are?”

  No response.

  “Oh, well, you’ll tell me when you come back. I’m a little tired, do you mind if I just rest a little until your daddy gets here?” Dear God, she was weary of questions. Answer me just once, sweetheart. She closed her eyes. “If you want to sleep, go ahead. I’m here. I’ll wake you if the bad dreams come.”

  Paris

  Gleaming emerald eyes, teeth bared to tear into him!

  Edward bolted upright in bed, his heart pounding. He was drenched with sweat.

&nb
sp; Only a dream.

  How ridiculous to become so upset that he was actually dreaming about the statue. It had to be the humiliation he had experienced at Vasaro.

  Not his fault. The plan had been perfect. If it hadn’t been for Michael Travis, he would have had the child. How had the son of a bitch known about the raid? There had to have been a leak. He would find it and then he would find Michael Travis and blow the bastard’s brains out.

  Wide awake now, he decided to go to the room. Just the thought of it was bringing him peace.

  He got up and made his way downstairs. The intricately carved door gleamed richly in the soft light. And once inside the room he would be able to relegate the small failure at Vasaro to the back of his mind, where it belonged. There was no question that he would persevere and get what he wanted soon.

  Including the death of Michael Travis.

  Georgetown

  “Where the hell is Michael Travis?” Andreas demanded when Ben Danley got into the limousine. “It’s been eight months. How long does it take the CIA to find one man?”

  “We’re close.” Danley sank down in the seat across from Andreas. “We’ve trailed him to Amsterdam. You don’t understand, Mr. President. He’s been mixing with the criminal underground since he was born. His father was a thief and a smuggler and he was brought up all over Europe and Asia. He has contacts that—”

  “So you’ve told me.” And Andreas didn’t want to hear it again. He wanted Travis and no excuses.

  “I’m only trying to explain that he moves in circles that leave few tracks. We expect to locate him within two days.” He paused. “You haven’t told us what to do when we do find him, sir.”

  Andreas turned to look at him.

  “Do you wish him to have . . . an accident, Mr. President?”

  Andreas smiled sardonically. “Why, Danley, you know the CIA no longer does sanctions. You’ve cleaned up your image.”

  “I didn’t say we’d do it,” Danley said. “I merely asked if that was your wish.”

  “Very cagey.”

  “It’s a natural question. If Travis is the man behind Vasaro, I can see why—”

  “Travis wasn’t behind it. I don’t want him hurt,” Andreas interrupted. “And you don’t know jack about what happened at Vasaro.”

  “Your pardon, sir, but naturally Keller at the Secret Service shared his files with us since the attempt on your life was made outside the U.S.”

  “It wasn’t Travis.”

  “Then why have we spent eight months searching for him?”

  “Because I told you to.” He looked out the window at the darkness. “And I wanted you to have a damn good reason to find him. What did Keller tell you?”

  “That there was an attempt on your life and the nurse and six men had been killed and three wounded. Fortunately, you and the First Lady had gone to Paris.”

  “Fortunately?” His tone was biting. “Do you realize that my daughter hasn’t spoken a word since that night? And that my wife was on the verge of a nervous breakdown after six months of trying to cope with a child who looked at her as if she were a stranger?”

  “I’m sorry. A slip of the tongue. I only meant—”

  “I know what you meant.” Andreas closed his eyes. “I shouldn’t have jumped on you. I’ve been under a hell of a strain lately.”

  “But I understood Cassie was doing much better and would be coming home soon.”

  “That’s the statement to the press to keep the reporters from searching for her. She’s the same as she was when we brought her home from Vasaro. We’ve tried four different psychiatrists, and they’ve done zilch.”

  “Perhaps a little more time and—”

  “I want her well now.” His eyes opened. “And I want to keep her safe. Find Travis.”

  “Keller and his men will keep her safe. They know their ass is on the line.”

  “They didn’t keep her safe at Vasaro. If Travis hadn’t shown up, she’d be dead or held hostage.”

  “What?”

  “Travis and his team came in minutes after Vasaro had been taken. They killed three of the attackers, one got away. Travis called me in Paris and told me what had happened.”

  “He saved your daughter?”

  Andreas nodded. “And stayed with her until we got there. He had a helicopter waiting and slipped away in the confusion after we arrived.”

  Danley gave a low whistle. “Which left Keller with a copious amount of egg on his face.”

  “He couldn’t clap him in custody. Travis was the hero of the hour . . . we thought.”

  “Have you considered the possibility the rescue was a setup?”

  “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 inform
ation Michael Travis might be able to give him.

  Where the devil was Travis?

  2

  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.”