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Merritt saw his father-in-law out, then wasted no time in booting up his computer and typing in the security code that accessed Spence’s laptop.

Nothing. Nothing! Spence’s unit was not responding. It had been programmed with several fail-safe backups. There was no explanation for a complete shutdown, unless the laptop had been destroyed. If that was the case, their private communiqués would have been destroyed with it, because such a contingency had been built into the program.

But Merritt’s chief concern wasn’t the computer system. Its inaccessibility was. It was a signal that something had gone drastically wrong. Spence wouldn’t have let anything happen to their link-up unless he was out of commission, too. And the only way that was possible was if Gray—

“Gray.”

Merritt spoke the name like an epithet. Saint Gray, the one mistake the President owned up to. He’d brought him on board because he’d mistaken Gray’s reserve for ruthlessness. Who could have guessed that the man trained to kill instantly with his bare hands would turn out to be valorous? Gray and his code of ethics had been a squeaky cog in an otherwise well-greased wheel.

Gray Bondurant wasn’t, however, without flaw. He’d loved another man’s wife. His wife.

The probability that Gray was to blame for Spence’s failure to report in filled Merritt with dread and rage. Furiously, he typed in a code that accessed a terminal in an innocuous office across town. When he received clearance, he typed a single entry: Bondurant.

The man on the other end, one of Spence’s best secret soldiers, would know what to do. He would go immediately to check out the situation in Wyoming. There was nothing left for Merritt to do but sit back and wait for word.

No, actually there was more he could do. He asked his secretary to place a call to the office of the director of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms.

After exchanging pleasantries, Merritt asked, “What have your boys uncovered about that explosion in Dupont Circle last night?”

He could tell that the director was puzzled by his interest, but the man answered directly. “We’ve just begun our investigation, Mr. President. At this point, the cause is anybody’s guess.”

“Barrie Travis is a close friend of Mrs. Merritt’s. This explosion has my wife feeling very anxious, and frankly, the First Lady doesn’t need any more stress. I promised I would call and inquire. I hate to bother you, but you know how it is.”

Sounding less guarded, the director said, “Of course, Mr. President, I understand. Please assure Mrs. Merritt that we’re on top of the situation.”

“And you’ll have closure on it as soon as possible?”

“I’ll make it a priority, Mr. President.”

“Mrs. Merritt and I will appreciate that. By the way, has anyone spoken to Miss Travis this morning? What’s her state of mind?”

“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know. No one’s seen her since the explosion. Witnesses who saw her immediately afterward said she was extremely upset. Her dog was killed in the blast.”

“Hmm. Terrible. Well, keep me posted.”

“Of course, Mr. President.”

Merritt hung up, but his mind was no more at ease than it had been before the call. Spence would have made certain that the explosion couldn’t be traced to the White House. Even so, it would be best if the investigation was limited to a perfunctory level.

This was indeed a vexing morning.

Merritt wasn’t worried about his father-in-law’s threats. The senator wasn’t nearly as fearsome as he prided himself on being. Most of the friends and enemies he’d boasted of were either retired, dead, or too deep into their dotage to rain destruction on a popular president.

Besides, the senator couldn’t create a shit storm aroun

d the President without getting plenty slung onto himself. Clete shared the skeleton in his closet. Regardless of his threats, he wasn’t about to open the door of that closet and start rattling bones.

But he would continue pestering him about Vanessa until he was satisfied that she was doing well. Something had to be done to assuage his concern. Later today, he would consult Spence—

He swore out loud. There were several items demanding Spence’s attention. Where the hell is he?

Although in his gut he knew, David couldn’t bring himself to accept the obvious.

Chapter Seventeen

“I’ve never been thrilled with the guy, but I’m still having trouble believing he could do that.”