Blown Away. Elle James
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into a chair in front of Royce’s desk ready to absorb everything the man had to say. A burning sensation built in his chest and radiated outward.
“A lobbyist down on K Street has been pushing Congressman Crane to support the MC application of a different African nation than Dindi, one called Arobo.”
“Arobo is contiguous to Dindi.” Sean sat forward. “Damn.”
“Yeah. It bears looking into.”
“Haddock was on the verge of getting approval for the Millennium Challenge funding for Dindi. I heard that the congressman’s death pretty much shut down the negotiations. In which case, Dindi won’t be seeing any money from the United States.”
“That’s what I thought until I checked.” Royce lifted a sheet of paper from his desk and passed it to Sean. “Not only is Dindi still being pushed, but Congresswoman Ann Malone is leading the effort.”
Sean glanced at a copy of a fax without reading the print. “So does Haddock’s death have anything to do with the MC funding or not?”
“Good question.” Royce’s eyes narrowed. “That’s why I want you on the inside for this one.”
“Inside where? With the lobbyist?”
“No. I signed you on as a staff assistant for Congresswoman Malone. She’s in the office next to Crane. That should get you close. If Crane’s push for Arobo has anything to do with the deaths in Dindi, you’ll be there to find out and also to protect the congresswoman if need be.”
Already feeling the necktie’s stranglehold, Sean stretched the collar of his T-shirt. “You know TJ Barton works in that building. She’ll recognize me.”
“We’ll have to take that risk. We can’t afford not to.” Royce’s lips twisted into a wry grin. “You’re the charming type, I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
Sean wasn’t so sure.
Royce leaned his elbows on his desk. “Do you want me to send Valdez or Tazer?”
An image of Marty dying in his arms surfaced. Sean’s lips firmed into a straight line. “No. I want to find the bastard who did this.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“We may have to bring TJ in on the mission to get her cooperation.” Sean’s gut tightened at the thought.
“Use your best judgment.” Royce settled back in his chair and lifted the phone, the session ended, his mind already moving forward to other matters. “Dust off your best suits, McNeal. You’re going to work in the Rayburn Building.”
Chapter Three
TJ knocked on the open door and stepped into the spacious office lined with wood paneling and rich carpeting. “Congressman Crane, you’re due at the White House in half an hour.”
“That damned CIA’s been crawling all over this office for the past three hours, asking me questions—and everyone else down to the new temp we just hired.”
This was news. “Why?”
“It has something to do with the bombing in Dindi.” Crane slammed his pen onto the desk. “Don’t know why they picked me to target with questions. It isn’t as if I had anything to do with the bombing. Just because I backed Arobo doesn’t mean I’d kill to get the funding.” He stood, slipped into his jacket and nodded at the papers in the middle of his desk. “I’ll need a summary of these reports by the end of the day.”
“Yes, sir.” As Crane moved toward the door, TJ gathered the papers. A plain manila folder lay to the side of the others. “Do you want me to take this one, too?”
His hand paused in buttoning his jacket. “No, I’ll handle that one myself.” Crane brushed at his lapels and stood by the door waiting for her.
She shrugged and followed. Congressman Haddock had given her free rein of his office. Crane hadn’t learned to trust her yet and from all accounts of other staff members who’d had the pleasure of working with him, he didn’t allow anyone in his office when he wasn’t there.
When TJ stepped past Crane, he turned to lock the door behind her, muttering, “They’ll have to come back with a search warrant if they want in my office.”
TJ stared after Crane until he disappeared. Then she glanced around the office where his staff scurried to straighten their desks.
So, the CIA had been here in Crane’s offices? Why would they think Crane or someone in his office had anything to do with the bombing in Dindi? Her contact in the CIA had indicated an American had been at the root of the bombing. Could that American be someone in the Rayburn Building?
As she made her way back to her desk, goose bumps raised the fine hairs on her arms. Her office was still located in the same suite she’d shared with Haddock, but until a replacement was elected next month back in Texas, she’d be working for Crane. Which shouldn’t have been a big deal. Both congressmen worked for the same political party and were on many of the same committees. TJ was familiar with most of the committee agendas and what was at stake.
TJ dodged people moving in and out of offices along the hallway. As she passed Congresswoman Ann Malone’s office the door opened and Gordon Harris stepped out and turned back to say, “John, if you need anything, you have my cell number.”
“Thanks, Gordon.” The low baritone response sounding from inside the office struck a note of familiarity with TJ and she peered around Gordon to see the owner of the voice.
Gordon turned toward her, pulling the door closed behind him. “Oh, TJ, I’m glad you’re here. I have some documents I need you to take a look at and return to me by tomorrow.”
Just as the door closed, she caught a glimpse of the man he’d been talking to. Her heart slammed to a halt and the papers in her hands slipped to the floor.
“Whoa, let me help you with those.” Gordon bent to gather the sheets scattered over the floor. When he stood, he frowned. “You all right? You look as if you’d seen a ghost.”
“I think I have.” Suddenly light-headed, she took the papers from Gordon without looking, her eyes on the door as if willing it to open. “Wh-who was that you were talking to?”
Gordon glanced back at the wood-paneled door as if he could see through it. “You mean John? That’s the new temporary staff assistant for Congresswoman Malone. Name’s John Newman.” He turned back to her, his eyes narrowed. “Why? You know him?”
“No.” The blood returned to her head in a rush. She’d imagined Sean on the jogging trail and now she was hallucinating at the office. What the hell was wrong with her? Her face burned with embarrassment. “I have to go.”
“What about those documents I need reviewed by tomorrow?”
“Bring them by anytime, I’ll look at them.” Just not now. She needed a few minutes alone to get a grip on herself. She dashed to her office, dumped the stack of papers on her desk and headed straight for the ladies restroom. When she reached an individual stall, she slid the bolt home and collapsed against the door.
Why, after a month had passed from the incident, was she having hallucinations? TJ shook her head. As if by shaking her head she could get her brain to return to normal!
Since the bombing, she’d had nightmares about the exploding building, about the hospital afterward and about Sean. She’d never had her bad dreams recur during the daylight hours. Were they taking over her life?
TJ rubbed at the stiff muscles in the back of her neck and stared at the glossy floor and wall tiles. A shaky laugh escaped her lips. Had the bombing in Dindi reduced her to hiding in a bathroom stall? Her shoulders straightened.
No. She was made of sterner stuff than that. After a few cleansing breaths, she opened the door, ready to face the world, her imaginings and herself.