The Jefferson Key by Steve Berry Read Free Book Online Page A

realized her robe was askew, providing her visitors with a view. Her fists were raised, nerves ready. “Who are you?”
    “Secret Service,” one of them said. “You’re under arrest.”
    What had Cotton done now? “Why?”
    “Assassination of the president of the United States.”
    Rarely was she genuinely surprised. It happened, but not often. But assassination of the president of the United States?
    That was a new one.
    “You need to lower your arms and place them behind your back,” the agent calmly said. “And maybe close that robe.”
    She did as he suggested and composed herself. “Am I allowed to dress before you take me away?”
    “Not alone.”
    She shrugged. “I can handle it, if you can.”

TEN

    MALONE REALIZED THEY WEREN’T HEADED TO ANY POLICE station. He’d been cuffed and quickly led from Grand Central. They’d confiscated his wallet and St. Regis room key, so he assumed Cassiopeia was going to have visitors. Too bad about dinner and the show. Would have been fun. He’d even bought some new clothes for the occasion.
    They’d given him no time to speak. Instead he was stuffed into a waiting car, left alone for a few minutes, then driven away. Now they were crossing the East River and entering Queens, heading away from Manhattan. Police cars ahead cleared a path. If he didn’t know better he’d swear they were headed for JFK airport. Were they transporting him to a place under their exclusive control?
    You can’t trust anyone
.
    Stephanie’s caution.
    Perhaps she was right.
    He doubted anyone in the car was going to volunteer anything, but there was one thing he wanted to say. “Fellows, you know my name, so you know my background. I didn’t try to kill anybody.”
    Neither of the agents in the front seat nor the one sitting next to him in the rear responded. So he tried a different tack.
    “Is Daniels all right?” he asked.
    No response again.
    The guy beside him was young and eager. Probably his first time in a situation like this.
    “I need to speak with someone at the Magellan Billet,” he said, changing his tone from friendly to irritated.
    The agent in the front, sitting on the passenger side, turned toward him. “You need to sit there and shut up.”
    “How about you stick it up your ass.”
    The man shook his head. “Look, Malone, make this easy and just ride. Okay?”
    This conspiracy reaches far
.
    More of Stephanie’s warning.
    Which they now had, the note taken from him when he was searched.
    So they knew he knew.
    Fantastic.
    They rode in silence for ten more minutes, then motored into JFK , passing through a gate that led directly to where planes were busy coming and going. One, though, sat alone, away from the others, ringed by police. A 747, painted blue and white, an American flag on its tail, the words UNITED STATES OF AMERICA stenciled in gold on its fuselage.
    Air Force One.
    A navy-blue jacket was tossed from the front seat. “Put it on,” came the command.
    He noticed three gold letters stamped on the front and back.
    FBI .
    They wheeled to the stairs that led up into the plane. The cuffs on his wrists were removed and he stepped from the car, slipping on the jacket. A man appeared from the far side of the stairs. Tall, lanky, with thin gray hair and a tranquil face.
    Edwin Davis.
    “They’re watching us,” Davis said. “From the terminal. Every network has a camera here with a telescopic lens. Careful with your words. They hire lip-readers.”
    “I heard you got promoted.”
    Last time they’d met in Venice, Davis was a deputy national security adviser. Now he served as White House chief of staff.
    Davis motioned to the rolling stairs and muttered, “Lucky me. Let’s go up.”
    “What about Daniels?”
    “You’ll see.”
----
    HALE WATCHED THE TELEVISION .
ADVENTURE
WAS NEARING home, now under engine power as they cruised west on the murky Pamlico River. He’d turned the volume down, tired of the anchors speculating in hope of holding