Detective Danny Cavanaugh 01 - The Brink

overnight. She looked back at her room, the one she’d been occupying for the past thirty-eight and a half hours. The pulled curtains wiggled. She couldn’t see the agents behind them, but she knew they were there watching her every move.
    Sydney zipped off her GWU warm-up top and then tugged off the pants. She stood at the far end of the pool. It wasn’t exactly inviting. Swirls of yellow algae clung to its sides. The water itself was so cloudy she could barely see the bottom. Plus, it reeked of chlorine. The pool was about as far away from the one at the White House as it could be, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
    A man walking out from the lobby to his eighteen-wheeler parked along the side of the motel nearly ran into a light pole as he gawked at her. She didn’t think twice of standing there in her underwear; it felt and looked like a bathing suit. Americans. She dove into the pool and coasted under the water toward the other end. The overwhelming amount of chlorine stung her closed eyes. As soon as she hit the far end, she stood and wiped the tainted water away from them. She saw Danny standing at the gate.
    “It’s time to go.”

Chapter 113
    Danny didn’t think anything of it when Howard Fielding turned the blue Ford Taurus onto the 495 loop from I-66 and headed north. They were bypassing the District, but many government agencies were headquartered on its outskirts. But now that Fielding took the ramp for I-95 north, heading toward Baltimore and then New York, Danny’s curiosity spiked.
    “Where we going?” he asked Fielding. It was the first words that anyone had spoken since bland pleasantries were exchanged almost an hour ago in the Red Roof Inn parking lot. Sydney had actually fallen asleep in the backseat.
    Fielding kept his eyes on the road. “Baltimore.”
    “What’s in Baltimore?”
    “You’ll see.”
    Twenty minutes later, Fielding veered off I-95 and drove down 198, heading east. Danny tightened. “This isn’t the way to Baltimore, Admiral.” Danny glanced in the backseat. Sydney’s eyes popped open, and she immediately tensed.
    “Relax,” Fielding replied. He looked at Sydney in the rearview mirror. “The two of you. I’m hungry and I know a good place to stop.”
    The name of the place was Champions Sports Bar. Fielding swerved into an open parking space right in front of the bar’s double doors. The windowless establishment was divided into two spaces. Six billiard tables and twenty hulking video game consoles on the left side provided the “sports” part. A long slab of cheap Formica with a dozen table and chairs scattered near it on the right side was the “bar” area. Flat screen TVs hung everywhere with what seemed to be every conceivable sporting event being broadcast. Fielding crossed to an empty table near the lone TV broadcasting CNN. Anderson Cooper was talking to Blake Conway, the White House spokesman, about the many rumors that continued to swirl around the events of the past week.
    “My treat,” Fielding said as they sat. He grabbed three of the four menus crammed between the napkin dispenser and salt and pepper shakers on the corner of the table. “Don’t let the ambiance fool you. The crab cake sandwich is excellent, best I’ve ever had. For appetizers, they have these stuffed jalapenos wrapped in bacon. Really outstanding.” He glanced at his watch. “What it makes up for in food, it lacks in service. We better be ready to order when our waitress comes.”
    Their food arrived a good twenty minutes after they ordered it. No one had appetizers. Fielding’s sales pitch had at least convinced Sydney to order the same crab cake sandwich he was having, with a side salad instead of the mixed fruit Fielding ordered. Danny opted for the cheeseburger with onion rings and the biggest Miller Lite they had. Fielding glanced at his watch again before doctoring up his sandwich. After squeezing a wedge of lemon over his crab cake, he coated one bun with tartar sauce and the other one with cocktail sauce. He was finished with both the sandwich and the fruit before Danny had half of his burger down. Sydney had only finished her side salad and hadn’t touched her main course yet. That’s when a “NEWS ALERT” flashed on the TV screen above their heads.
    CNN’s White House correspondent, Grace Styles, materialized on the screen. She was covering President Butcher as he was leaving for a few days R and R at Camp David. The shot switched again, and there