CHAPTER
64
DECKER WAS SITTING on the couch with his eyes closed and his head tilted down.
Jamison had just walked out of the bathroom dressed in a long shirt with gym shorts. She was brushing her teeth with one hand and carrying a small plastic bag of trash with the other. She padded barefoot down the hall, glanced at Decker, shrugged, and dropped the plastic bag into a large trash receptacle located on one side of the kitchen island.
That’s when the knock came at the door.
Jamison looked around and observed that Decker did not appear to have heard the knock.
She tried to speak and watery toothpaste dribbled out of her mouth. She caught it in one hand and hurried over to the sink. She rinsed out her mouth.
The knock came again.
“Decker, can you get the door?”
He didn’t budge and his eyes didn’t open.
“I’ll take that as a no!” exclaimed Jamison. She used a paper towel to wipe off her mouth and hurried over to the door. She looked through the peephole and her eyes widened.
“Yes?” she said through the door.
Four men stood outside, all dressed in suits. One of them held up his open cred pack to the peephole.
“Holy shit,” Jamison muttered.
She opened the door and stepped back.
The four men didn’t move. The one in the lead looked her up and down, and then glanced over at Decker, who still sat on the couch.
“Amos Decker?” he said.
“Yes,” said Jamison. “I mean, that’s us. I…I mean…” Flustered, she drew a quick breath, composed herself, and said, “I’m Alex Jamison. And he’s Amos Decker.”
“I’m Special Agent Nathan Deel, with the United States Secret Service. Mr. Decker, you need to come with us.”
“When?” asked Jamison.
“Now.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Now.”
Decker opened his eyes and looked over at them. “You better go change, Alex.”
“The invitation did not include your friend,” said Deel sharply.
“Then I’m not going,” said Decker. He closed his eyes and settled back on the couch.
Deel glanced at one of his men and then at Jamison. “Our orders are for him only.”
“Decker,” said Jamison. “It’s the Secret Service, for Christ’s sake.”
“Unless they have a warrant for my arrest, I don’t go unless you go. And if you guys want to try to carry me out of here, be advised that I’m a big load.”
Deel frowned, took out his phone, and stepped down the hall.
A minute went by before he rejoined them. Deel let out a long breath, glanced at Jamison, and nodded curtly. “Okay, you’re in.”
She stared at him openmouthed for a long moment and then said, “Can you give me like ten minutes to change?”
“Make it like five. We have people waiting.”
She raced off down the hall into her bedroom and slammed the door behind her.
Deel stepped into the apartment, looked over at Decker, and took in his rumpled clothes and general dishevelment. “Do you need to change clothes and clean up too?”
Decker stood, towering over the man. “There wouldn’t be much point.”
“Why?” snapped Deel.
“Because all of my clothes look just like these.”
Surprisingly, Deel cracked a smile. “I was told you walked to the beat of a different drummer. It’s actually refreshing.”
* * *
“Oh my freaking God,” exclaimed Jamison.
She had changed into slacks, a short-waisted jacket, and a white blouse with black boots. She’d done her hair up in the back and secured it there with a barrette. She and Decker were in the very back row of a big-ass GMC Yukon with tinted windows.
In her ear Bogart whispered, “His being here tells you how serious this is.”
The President asked them to sit. They all immediately did so.
The President looked at Bogart. “Agent Bogart, I’m due to give out an award shortly to the FBI for a successful joint mission that saved a great many lives.”
“Yes sir, I’m aware of that.”
“Well, if your team can help us with this, I think another award will be in order.” The President turned to the woman. “Gail, you want to start this off?”