“I want Ortiz and—”
“Whoever you want, Selene. Send the info to my phone along with any updates. I’ll be dark for the duration of the meeting, but it shouldn’t be long.”
Once they disconnected he shut off his phone and other electronics as his driver steered up to the clandestine location of the meeting.
? ? ?
Rayford glanced in the rearview mirror as he pulled to a stop on Hillenbrand’s block. Instead of taking the Metro and walking to the townhome, this time he’d borrowed a colleague’s vehicle from work. Of course he’d been careful to drive around in circles and take an alternative route to even enter the neighborhood, but he was certain he wasn’t being watched anyway.
At least not by law enforcement. There was always the chance that some reporter tailed him hoping to get a story, but at this point in his career it was unlikely. He had a proven track record and knew in certain circles he was mocked for being a straight arrow.
They could mock all they wanted, but with no skeletons in his closet, he never felt guilt or had to worry about past deeds coming back to haunt him. It was the reason his boss had chosen him, and why he was invaluable to the upcoming election efforts. The election his boss would win. Nothing was absolutely guaranteed, but now that their main opponent within the party was out of the way, they were even closer to victory.
As he approached Hillenbrand’s townhome, a woman with blond hair and a polished look stepped out the front door, Hillenbrand with her. The man had his hand on her ass and was obscenely groping her breast as she giggled and gave him what was clearly a parting kiss.
Rayford gritted his teeth. Hillenbrand had asked him to come here and he couldn’t risk being seen by one of the man’s whores.
A woman who accepted money in exchange for sex would easily talk if she was pulled in by law enforcement. He couldn’t have any viable connections to Hillenbrand. Bending down, he acted as if he was tying his shoe, even though he wore loafers. Today he was dressed in business casual, as it had been appropriate for the campaign work they’d been doing, but he’d snagged his colleague’s hoodie from the backseat and kept it pulled over his head.
The woman’s booted heels clicked along the sidewalk as she headed in the opposite direction. Once the sound was far enough away, he looked up. She was getting into a luxury sedan and oblivious of him, so he straightened.
Hillenbrand was waiting in the entryway, arms crossed over his chest and a pleased expression on his face.
Before he could speak, Rayford did. “You called me away from work for this. I don’t expect to cross paths with one of your women again. Ever. This business we do is between us.”
Hillenbrand’s blue eyes went cold, but he nodded. “Fair enough. Now come on.”
Silently he followed him back down to the entertainment room. He was surprised to see the DEA agent and another man there. Gary Harris, a skilled hacker with a lengthy criminal history. Hillenbrand used his services, but Rayford didn’t trust the guy. Hell, he didn’t trust anyone in this room but himself. But he was going to reach out to the DEA agent without going through Hillenbrand. Couldn’t hurt to feel the man out, discover why he was involved with them.
He nodded at both men, though Harris barely glanced up from his laptop. The grungy-looking guy was stretched out on the Chesterfield, his sneakers kicked up on a table with no respect. He was a genius but disgusting.
“We’ve had a change of plans,” Hillenbrand said. “The men I sent out to eliminate Southers’s team have all gone radio silent.”
“Isn’t that normal?” This was out of his realm of expertise, but after the display with the drone the other night, Hillenbrand had introduced Rayford to the corrupt DEA agent. The man had briefly explained how the hit team would work. They’d all go dark while they killed Southers’s guys, then confirm the deaths once they were in secure locations.
Hillenbrand shook his head. “No. It’s been days. At least one of them would have checked in by now. And”—he nodded at the DEA agent—“we have a confirmation that the targets have tried to access their accounts at the DEA.”
Rayford raised his eyebrows. “Recently?”
The blond-haired man nodded. “Yesterday.” Which was the day after the hit team had been sent out. “I’ve revoked their access using someone else’s system so it won’t trace back to me. But we need them eliminated before they cause a problem.”
Rayford’s heart rate increased, but he forced himself to remain calm. Killing Southers’s men was part of the plan. They needed scapegoats. “So, what happens now?”
“We’re going to blow some shit up,” Harris said, almost manic glee in his voice even though he still didn’t glance up.
Rayford rolled his shoulders once, trying to ease his growing tension. He was uncomfortable associating with someone like Harris so closely. Unfortunately it was necessary. Rayford knew that in order to get his boss in the White House, he’d have to make some sacrifices. He also knew that while Hillenbrand was on the same side as he was, the other man was more in this for the money than politics. No matter what Hillenbrand said. Still, it didn’t matter as long as their goal was the same. Once they started a war in the Middle East, they’d all get rich from the government contracts—Hillenbrand’s number-one goal—and Rayford’s boss would then take his place in history starting a war they could win. He’d go down in history as a great president and their political party would gain more power. A win-win. The fact that Rayford would also get rich from their plan was just a bonus.
Hillenbrand nodded at the screen and as if on cue, a video popped up. It showed two of their targets, Kane and Brooks, at a garden center of sorts. No, not just a garden center. The U.S. Botanic Garden. “What is this?”
“Footage of them scouting out the Botanic Garden as part of their ‘terrorist plot’ to bomb it,” Hillenbrand said with that smug expression on his face.
Rayford frowned. He knew Kane and Brooks weren’t actual terrorists, but the footage of them at the garden looked real. So did the way they were doing reconnaissance. Hillenbrand was obviously setting them up to look like terrorists, but Rayford wanted to know how they’d gotten the footage in the first place. “I don’t understand.”
“We had an issue there two weeks ago. Kane and Brooks were sent to search for a suspected criminal related to an ongoing investigation,” the DEA agent said. “All off the books.”
“Thanks to my unparalleled skill,” Harris continued, obviously full of himself, “now it’s going to look as if they planted bombs.” The screen split, showing the men in various stages of sweeping the Garden, and in the second video it looked exactly as though they were indeed hiding explosives.
“Kids are there every day.” Rayford didn’t like the way this was going. He knew what he’d signed up for, but hurting children wasn’t part of his plan. Hell, he’d taken his nephews there a few months ago. He didn’t know if he could go through with this if they hurt kids.
Hillenbrand shot him an annoyed look. “No shit. We’re not going to hurt anyone. Only one bomb will be set off.” He glanced at Harris. “Do it.”
A third frame appeared on the screen. It was a shot of the interior conservatory. He couldn’t hide the automatic wince as a ball of flames burst free, sending glass and debris flying everywhere. It didn’t look as if anyone had been injured, but he was only seeing one shot of the destruction and for all he knew, Hillenbrand was lying to him about no one getting hurt. “What about the other bombs?” Rayford was surprised his voice didn’t shake.