RR - Follow the Leader

Chapter 2    

Title:               A Sinking Sensation in California

Author:            NancyY

Lushy's great lead-in was a fun act to follow.  Thank you, Taya, for the Beta.

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"I'm a little disappointed.  Isn't it supposed to be sunny in California?"  Amanda stared at the sheets of driving rain slicing past the small window, as the plane taxied down the runway.  A quick glance confirmed that Mother was still asleep, and Phillip and Jamie were sitting at the back of the plane with Justin the cameraman--she could hear snippets of their excited conversation.  The coast was clear, for now, and she snuggled against her husband's solid shoulder.  "I hope the rain stops before the rally in Exposition Park."

"Me, too.  It just makes our jobs that much more difficult.  Okay, let's go over today's itinerary one more time."  Lee slid the notepad from under the pile of employee files in his lap.  "We've got the rally at one o'clock in the park--with the press, full security, the whole nine yards.  From there, the President will tour the Natural History Museum, probably take an hour or so . . ."

Laughter bubbled from the rear compartment of the small plane, and a sliver of un-named dread trailed up her spine.  "Lee, do you think we should warn Justin?  I don't like the way Philip and Jamie were eying his camera."

He grinned.  "Well, no.  Not really.  It's probably too late anyway.  We'll just let the camera--or camera parts--fall where they may.  Putting it back together will give the guy something to do."

Amanda sighed and rested her chin on his shoulder, scanning the notes, as Lee slipped his arm around her and pulled her closer.  "Oh, the boys should like this!  The President and his entourage will visit the La Brea Tar Pits and the Page Museum.

You know, the President could be a target at any of these locations.  Even after studying the employee dossiers, we really aren't any closer to finding the mole.  It could be any of these people, or none of them."

He took a deep breath, and then let it out slowly.  "Yeah, I know.  Well, there is one thing.  If there are no more notes, we can pretty much rule out anyone traveling with him.  Maybe we left that threat back in D.C."

"Do you really believe that?"

"No." He sighed.  "I wish I could, but it would be too easy." 

He looked so worried that she just couldn't resist.  One delicate kiss, just below his furrowed brow, and then another on his warm cheek.  Her heart lurched, and she wondered just who was comforting whom.  As Lee relaxed into her embrace, she wished that they could have some time alone.  Time not spent on a case or snatched when her family and co-workers weren't looking.  She touched his chin with gentle fingertips, and then his warm lips--

A sleepy mumble from several rows away jerked them upright.  "Amanda dear, are we there?"

"Yes, Mother.  It's going to take a few minutes before we can disembark, with the rain and all."  She smoothed an imaginary wrinkle from her sweater and tried for a professional expression, but her mother's knowing grin made it difficult.  The more space she put between her shoulder and Lee's, the wider Dottie's grin stretched.  Amanda's startled gaze fixed on Lee's cheek, christened by the unmistakable blush of her red lipstick.

So much for professionalism.

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The rally was winding down, but Amanda's nerves were still on hair triggers.  How were they supposed to coordinate security during a Mask Festival?  Flurries of feathers and fantasy blended one into the next, in tangled confetti of bright colors and strange designs.  The masks would have been beautiful, if she wasn't imagining a terrorist behind each display.

Feedback buzzed in her ear, and she adjusted the headset.  "Lee?" she whispered, scanning the crowd.

"Here."  His voice was faint, and she struggled to hear him over the hubbub.  "Amanda, I'm heading over to the next venue.  The Secret Service can wrap it up here.  I want to scope out the surroundings at the Tar Pits.  Can you meet me in, say, twenty minutes?"

"I'll grab Mother and the boys as they come out of the Museum of Natural History and send them with the group heading for the Page Museum at the Tar Pits."

She turned to leave but stopped short as a tall young man in a sharp black suit slipped through the crowd, a determined expression on his handsome face.  It had taken practice, but she could place an agent by the cut of his clothes.  Yep.  Must be CIA. 

"Ma'am?  Mrs. King?" 

She smiled at him.  He was just a boy, really, only a few years older than Phillip.  Were they recruiting them in high school now?  "Yes."

"I have a message from the President."  His chest puffed out at the words, and Amanda was even more amused.  Young enough to be impressed by his position.  Too young, really.

She took the folded note and read it, then read it again, before refolding it and tucking it into her pocket.  "Thank you, Agent . . .?”

"Sturgess, ma'am."

Thank you, Agent Sturgess.  Um . . . Can I ask you a favor?"  Relief coursed through her as he nodded.  

"I'm to be at your disposal, ma'am.  Orders?"

"Good.  First, I need you to find my mother and my boys and make sure they get to the Page Museum for the President's tour.  I need you to keep an eye on them, make sure they're okay."  She was a little surprised when he almost sprang to attention at her order.  Well, while she was at it . . .

"And can you get me a car?"

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The smell. 

She would always remember it.  Hot asphalt, roofing tar, and an indefinable musty something that clogged her nose and closed her throat.  They didn't call the place the “Tar Pits” for nothing.  Amanda fiddled with her earpiece, hoping that Lee was within range.  "Lee!  Can you here me?"  She walked around the back of the Page Museum, scanning Hancock Park for any sign of her wayward partner.  "Come in!"

A heavy hand clamped on her arm and spun her around.  "Ummmmmph."  Her startled exclamation was cut off in mid-stream by a familiar set of lips.  Melting into his embrace was wonderful . . . so loving . . . so . . .

Annoying!  Amanda shoved at his rock-hard chest until he reluctantly released her.  "Don't do that!  Sneaking up on me--you should be ashamed."  He looked anything but ashamed.  Actually, he looked pleased with himself, and it was so tempting to wipe that smug grin off his face . . . that handsome face . . .

Sighing, she kept one hand planted firmly on his chest to keep him at bay, while she dug around in her pocket for the note.  "Sorry, sweetheart, but this comes first."  Amanda handed him the note and watched his smile fade.  All business now, the Secret Agent facade snapping back into place.  She felt a pang at the transformation, but it couldn't be helped.

"So Red February is still traveling with us.  This is a list of the President's dinner menu on Air Force One, from just last night."  Lee stuffed the note into his pocket.  "I need to rendezvous with the Secret Service attaché and co-ordinate security."

"But the mole--what if he's here now?  Or she?"  It was hard to talk around the sudden lump in her throat.  "Mother and the boys, they'll be right there--"

The last line of the note had said it all.

‘You can't run, traitor.  Everything is in place.  Today, you die.’

When the flashing lights of the approaching motorcade swept up Wilshire Blvd., Amanda’s reverie was broken.  There was no time left.  The President was here.

Lee brushed a feather kiss on her cheek.  "You get to the head of security and make sure that they fan out on the perimeter.  I'll keep an eye on this end, while you take care of our family.  The museum has been cleared and checked for explosive devices, so everyone should be safe during the tour.  I'm more concerned about snipers.  This a large park, with hundreds of hiding places."

"You be careful."  Amanda brushed her fingers down the front of his coat. 

"Always."

She watched as he disappeared around the building, and then watched for a moment longer before turning away.  Back to business.

The motorcade rumbled into the parking lot, and Secret Service agents poured from the black vans in the lead.  Searching for her mother and the boys, she saw them step from one of the cars at the end of the line.  She breathed a sigh of relief when she noticed that "her" agent, the tall youngster, was holding the door open as her mother stepped out.  They were safe, and she could focus on the tasks at hand.

Now where was that supervisor? 

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Phillip picked at the edge of his brochure, as the guide droned on.

** The La Brea Tar Pits are a natural accumulation of tar that formed over this site 40,000 years ago, that still bubbles upward to this day . . ."**

Blah.  Blah.  Blah . . .When were they going to get to the good stuff?  So far, a few mucky pits and some sandbag-circled ooze were the high points of the boring tour.  Where were the dead things?  Phillip trailed the larger group, staying out of the way.  What was one more stupid museum?  Okay, the Natural History one had been kinda cool, with the stuffed animals, but the “LACMA” thing had been killer boring.  Ugly paintings by dead people. Ugh.

**It's taken years to carefully excavate the millions of specimens housed in this, the George C. Page Museum.  And the discoveries continue to this day. Dire wolves, giant sloths, and saber-tooth cats are commonly . . .**

Dire wolves.  Phillip stared at the wall of wolf skulls lining the walls.  In a case to his left, an entire saber-toothed cat snarled in skeletal defiance, and a mastodon reared overhead, its black tusks glistening in the spotlights.  Okay, so maybe this stuff was kinda cool.

Phillip drifted over to a darkened display case.  What was this supposed to be?  The small gold button beckoned, and he gingerly pressed it.  Geesh!  He scrambled back, his eyes fixed on the human skeleton.  And then he jumped forward and whirled around.  Jamie's stupid grin just made him mad.  "Don't do that, dufus!"

"Gotcha.  Ditched Grandma to see what you were doing."  Jamie stared at the display.  "Ew, look at that."

"Yeah, pretty gross.  It says here she was murdered and thrown into the tar."

"How do they know that?"

"Her head was bashed in, idiot."  Phillip studied the display.  "Yuck.  Musta been disgusting.  I wonder what it woulda looked like, you know, someone falling into the tar pits."

"Maybe it would look like that."  A tiny voice piped from the window ledge overlooking the park, and a little blonde girl pointed out the window.  Phillip and Jamie elbowed her out of the way.  "No way!"

"Cool!"

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"Amanda!"  She jumped and rubbed her ear, fumbling with the volume control. 

"Amanda, where are you?"

"Right here, Lee.  In front of the ‘Page.’" 

"Are your mother and the boys safely inside with the rest of the tour group?"

"Yeah.  Agent Sturgess is with them."  Thank goodness for the CIA.  She would have been beside herself with worry, without the extra protection.

"Sturgess?  Amanda . . . wait . . . "  Feedback buzzed through the receiver. "I don't remember a Stur--"

Amanda tapped the earpiece.  "Lee?  Wait for what?  What don't you remember?"

A series of buzzing pops exploded in her ear, and she started to pull out the receiver.  " . . .Wilshire . . . "  She struggled to hear.  "car . . . behind the pools . . . sniper . . . backup--"

She'd heard enough.  Darting toward the mastodon pools, Amanda paused long enough to grab the nearest member of the security team and propel the startled agent toward Wilshire Blvd.  "Come on!"

Two shots sliced through the damp afternoon air, and she ducked instinctively, never slowing her pace.  She had to find him.  Oh, Lord, no!

There he was on the road, struggling with a man in black.  A rifle flashed between them as they fought for control, and Amanda screamed as they pitched over the fence together and tumbled into the pit below.  "No!  Lee?"

She slid down the grassy hill and hurdled the low retaining wall that protected the mastodon pools, expecting to find her husband sinking into the bubbling tar.  Or even . . . no, he wasn't dead.  Couldn't be.  Her heart lurched as she slid to a stop at the edge of the tar pit. He was half buried in the muck, unmoving.

"Lee?"  Nothing had prepared her for this.

The agent that accompanied her touched her shoulder, and she jumped in surprise.

"Amanda?  What the heck are you doing?  Give me a hand."

She almost collapsed on the bank but pulled herself together and ran along the edge of the pond.  "Lee!"

He slogged from behind the faded fiberglass mastodon anchored in the middle of the pit, scummy water and sticky tar coating his black suit.  If she weren't so relieved, she would have laughed.  Even now, an occasional hysterical giggle threatened to trickle past her professional facade.

"Why aren't you sinking?"  Curiosity started to overtake the remnants of fear.

"The bottom is solid.  I don't think this thing is really a tar pit.  It's just a disgusting puddle."  He waded halfway up the bank, before he slipped and fell back into the pit.

Amanda grinned, as he shook his head and straightened his sodden tie.  If he was trying for decorum, it wasn't quite working.

"Stop laughing and give me a hand, will you?"  

It took a gardener and two Secret Service agents to drag Lee out of the clinging sludge.  The assassin had been retrieved and dragged up the bank, and members of the President's security team were gathering like vultures.

Brushing ineffectually at the black crust drying on his suit jacket, Lee bent and turned his unconscious assailant onto his back.  Amanda gasped.  Under the mud and tar, the face was unmistakable.

Agent Sturgess.

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It would be several hours until the plane touched down at their next destination, and Amanda was determined to enjoy the respite.  Mother was exhausted from the excitement of following the President during the tours, and, in the last two seats of the compartment, Phillip and Jamie had their heads together, whispering.  The small charter plane was comfortable but almost empty.  It was quiet.  Nice.

She tilted her head toward Lee.  "So, where did Sturgess come from?"

"I was trying to tell you that he wasn't on the security detail list, when I was interrupted.  Thank God he wasn't out to hurt the kids."

"I know.  When I think that he traveled with our family, my heart starts pounding.  How did he know my name?  And why was he that bold?”

"Hard to say.  So far, he's not talking."  Lee caressed her fingers and pulled her cold hands into his lap.  "I sent all the information we have to the Agency boys.  By the time we land, we should have more information on our man Sturgess."

Amanda sighed.  "Do you think that's it?  If he was the Red February operative, does that mean the threat is over?”

Lee brought her hand to his lips and brushed a quick kiss against her fingers.  "Sweetheart, I just don't know."

Next . . .