Detective Danny Cavanaugh 01 - The Brink

solid chap,” Lars replied. “There must be a good reason why he’s maintaining his silence for the time being. Trotter described a woman who showed up at the club with Cavanaugh. The description matches Ms. Dumas. I’m very sure that the two of them are still together.”
    Lars dove into his jacket pocket again and produced another Times article printed off of the Internet. Fantroy unfolded it and stared at the title.
    Fugitive Spotted at Knoxville, Tennessee Gas Station
    Again, Fantroy read through the article. The gas station attendant on duty stated that Cavanaugh was driving a late-model Lincoln Town Car and that there was a woman in the passenger side.
    Fantroy asked a rhetorical question. “Why would they be in Tennessee? That’s a long way from Houston, Texas.”
    Lars took the liberty of answering it. “Do you know what city is in an almost direct line with Houston, Texas, and Knoxville, Tennessee?” Fantroy shook his head. Lars continued. “The same city for which you are headed, my dear Prime Minister.”
    Fantroy’s heart pounded in the back of his throat. He stared at the last paragraph of the article.
    “Cavanaugh and his unidentified accomplice managed to escape the gas station before authorities arrived. Their current whereabouts are unknown.”
    “What does this mean for us, Lars?” Fantroy asked handing back the papers.
    Lars folded them up and slid them back inside his flawless jacket. “It means that I have already contacted our White House man. He will be keeping extra close attention to the course of events during the next few days.”

Chapter 53
    One lone knock vibrated through the door leading to Simon Shilling’s office.
    “Come in,” Jack yelled across the Oval. The door swung open and Simon appeared with four men dressed in similar dark suits and blue ties on his heels. Simon veered out of the way to let them greet the president.
    George Connelly, Jack’s pick to head up the Department of Energy, was first. The media had given Connelly the nickname Gorgeous George. He was in his mid-sixties but still made the women that worked in the White House swoon whenever he visited. He had a year-round tan and thick salt and pepper hair. But most importantly, Gorgeous George was charming; he was a smooth talker but an even better listener.
    “Mr. President,” George said shaking hands. “This is Sam Ashworth, NNSA administrator.”
    Sam Ashworth was what Jack’s predecessor would have called a, “tall drink of water.” He had to duck underneath the doorway that led from Simon’s office into the Oval, a doorway constructed for the much shorter people of the nineteenth century. His hand engulfed Jack’s as he gripped it.
    “Mr. President,” Ashworth started and then turned to introduce the next man down the food chain. “I believe you’ve been talking with Clarence Warner, sir.”
    Clarence, a black man whose body angled sharply from wide shoulders into an almost childlike waist, was noticeably intimidated by his surroundings. Jack smiled at him and held out his hand. Clarence shook it with a sweaty palm. “Mr. President.”
    “First time in the Oval, Clarence?”
    He adjusted his glasses. “Yes, sir.”
    “Thanks for coming on such short notice.”
    “Of course, sir. It’s an honor to be here.”
    Jack eyed the last man to enter the Oval. “Admiral,” he said as they shook hands.
    “Mr. President,” Howard Fielding replied. Although Fielding had retired from the navy to become Jack’s director of National Intelligence and no longer wore his dress uniform, he still cut an impressive jib in an off-the-rack suit.
    Jack glanced at the item tucked under Fielding’s arm. It was a document rolled up in a tight cylinder and stamped with a blood red “CLASSIFIED” designation.
    “Gentlemen,” Simon called to them. He was already sitting in his usual chair. He motioned for the men to take seats around him on the couches.
    Jack threw the bureaucratic rules aside as he sat down and asked the lowest man on the totem pole for answers.
    “Clarence, please bring us up to speed on NEST’s activities during the night.”
    Clarence looked at his boss, who then looked at his boss. Shock stained both their faces, like Daddy just said he didn’t love them anymore.
    “Clarence?” the president pressed.
    “Yes, sir. I’m sorry. Four Pave Hawk helicopters surveyed the District and the metropolitan areas in Virginia and Maryland. Those surveys all came back negative, sir.