Detective Danny Cavanaugh 01 - The Brink

done, Danny saw Fielding emerge from the hangar.
    “That was a quick five minutes,” Danny said.
    “You all set, Ms. Dumas?” Fielding asked as he approached them.
    “Yes.” She turned back to Danny, and they kissed one more time. “Good-bye, Danny.”
    “Good-bye, Sydney. Safe travels.”
    Fielding stuck out his hand. “Good luck, Sergeant.”
    Danny shook his hand, but his eyes remained locked with Sydney’s, as Fielding escorted her over to the waiting Falcon 50 jet. Sydney finally broke eye contact as she climbed up the folding staircase and ducked into the plane. The door closed behind them, and the engines fired up. As Danny stepped away from the plane, a familiar voice caught his ear from behind him.
    “You ready to go, Sergeant?”
    Danny whirled to see Agent Peter Devon standing there. He knew that he and Sydney would go their separate ways, but he still didn’t know where he was being taken. “Do I finally get to know where you’re taking me?”
    Devon stood there without emotion and flatly replied, “New York.”

Chapter 116
    As they crossed through Penn Station’s main doors, Danny could tell that Peter Devon had little concern about being recognized by the people hustling around them. They maneuvered through the crowded terminal toward an enormous information board on the far side of a circular waiting area. As soon as they reached it, Devon’s eyes scrolled up and down. “Wait here,” he instructed Danny without as much as a glance. He walked over to the nearest ticketing agent and waited in a line three people deep.
    As Danny waited, he watched all the people scurrying around. Not one seemed to be even fazed that the president of the United States had been shot and killed. The details of the attempt on President Ronald Reagan’s life were as fresh in Danny’s mind as if he had been the president who was shot only hours ago. He had just arrived home from school. As soon as he walked in the front door after trekking home from the school bus stop, he could tell instantly something was wrong. His mother was glued to the TV. Tears stained her face. She didn’t even notice her son was home until he gripped her shaking hand. She grabbed onto him and hugged him tight, her voice almost breathless. “Oh honey, the president’s been shot.”
    Now, all these years later, it didn’t seem like anyone cared that their leader had died. Danny thought about what Fielding had said about the country coming together and fixing itself. If Penn Station was any indication, Fielding’s theory was dead wrong.
    Devon clipped back over to Danny and offered him an envelope. “Here you go, Jeremy Calhoun.”
    “Jeremy Calhoun? What the hell …” As soon as Danny pulled out the Virginia driver’s license from the envelope, he realized what Devon meant. Fielding had given him a new identity.
    “There’s also a Social Security card in there along with a thousand dollars in pocket money and instructions to access an account with fifty grand in it. All compliments of the U.S. government.”
    “For what y’all are doing to me, there should be a hell of a lot more than just fifty grand.”
    “What can I say; it’s an amount that wouldn’t be missed. Your ticket’s in there, too. It’s good for a private sleeper from here to Chicago.”
    “Why Chicago?”
    “It’s big enough to get lost in. Plus it’s close enough to Canada, just in case you want to head north. Passport’s your problem, though.”
    Danny examined the train ticket. “Private sleeper. Thanks.”
    “You look like two shades of dog shit. I thought you could use the upgrade, my treat.”
    “You’re a peach, Devon,” Danny replied sarcastically.
    Devon actually cracked a smile. “Call it an early birthday gift.”
    With all that had gone on, Danny had totally forgotten about his thirty-eighth birthday. He wasn’t surprised that the Secret Service agent remembered it for him. “Can I ask you one thing?”
    “What?”
    Danny glanced around, then lowered his voice. “Did I kill the president?” Devon raised an eyebrow. “Come on, Devon. This ain’t my first rodeo. This whole thing stinks of a set-up.”
    Devon remained a stone for a moment. Then he motioned beyond the glass wall to the waiting area. “Your train boards in fifty-two minutes on track 4B.” He stuck out his hand. “Good luck, Cavanaugh.”
    Danny realized that Agent Devon wasn’t going to give him the answer he wanted. He turned without shaking hands and