The waiter came with the mimosas and they placed their orders. Salads for both of them.
Marilee turned to Vic and said,“You’re right. The hotel can decide on the flowers etc. But I do have to do the guest lists. Well, I have the lists. The invitations have gone out, but I don’t have a seating chart. Would you mind helping me with that?”
Vic would rather sit in the dentist’s chair for root canals on all her molars, but she nodded gamely. The two spent the rest of the afternoon making and revising a seating chart. It was a long and tedious process, and she learned more about Washington’s elite than she ever wanted to, but she also gained a new appreciation for Marilee. The woman was very knowledgeable and tough as nails. Vic was starting to feel sorry for her though. If Ryker had his way, Marilee would never see the inside of the Naval Observatory, at least not as the Second Lady.
TWENTY-FOUR
Ryker adjusted the rifle scope, sharpening focus on the figure on the park bench. He fiddled with the receiver as well and the elderly gentleman’s voice filled his ear. He was talking to the ducks as he fed them. Riveting stuff.
Ryker snorted. This job had taken some interesting twists and turns, but listening to some old man on a park bench was trying his patience. He refocused and scanned the area. Davis was sitting in his car with Lazlo, apparently waiting for someone who wasn’t the old man on the bench.
“Jesus,”Cash muttered through the earbud.“This is just painful.”
“Nothing wrong with feeding ducks,”Flynn said.“What else do you have to do when you’re old?”
“If this is my life when I’m old, someone put me out of my misery.”
“I volunteer for the job. At least then you’ll know it’s done right,”Rush commented. Cash shot him a dark look but Ryker grinned. Probably shouldn’t joke about being taken out with this crowd. Every single one of them was capable of pulling that particular trigger.
He shifted minutely on the ground. He wasn’t wearing a ghillie suit, but he was hidden by the undergrowth. Through the rifle sight, he studied the area across the pond. He’d cloned Lazlo’s phone so he and the others could follow without any trouble. Then they’d all set up in varying locations around the park. Ryker had been worried they would miss something since they were following Davis and couldn’t get to the meet location beforehand, but Davis was still just sitting in his car.
Ryker went back to studying the elderly man. He had to be in his late seventies or early eighties. The white fringe of hair that circled his head was a little bit long and starting to curl in the back. He wore a red and white-checked button-down shirt with a blue stripe across the chest, and a gray jacket even though it was a warm spring day. So either he had really poor circulation or he was carrying a gun under his jacket. Both were a possibility. Gone were the days of Ryker thinking an old man on a bench feeding the ducks was just a coincidence.
The elderly man shifted slightly revealing he was wearing Darth Vader socks. Probably a present from his grandkids. Of course, it could be a message of some kind but if it was, Ryker wasn’t enough of a Star Wars fan to figure it out. The man appeared mentally alert and agile judging by his conversations with the ducks. He was asking them for answers to the New York Times crossword puzzle, although he did the thing in pen and seemed to have no problem filling it in.
Physically though, the man was in slow decline. Ryker had learned during his time in the military to study people’s movements. Variation could mean all kinds of things including highlighting a physical weakness. The old man’s movements were stiff, and Ryker imagined he got stiffer on rainy days. His left foot seemed to drag a bit. If Ryker had to guess, he thought the old guy didn’t have too many good years left.
Ryker swept the area one more time and started to refocus on the man when there was movement off to his right.“Heads up,”he whispered into his headset. He focused on a black SUV with black-out tinting on the windows entering the parking lot. Not a usual vehicle people took to the park. Usually, he’d find the lot filled with Subarus and Jeeps, along with a smattering of minivans.
“Got it,”Rush said. He was stationed in a stand of trees to the left of the bench.
Cash asked,“Any movement in Davis’s SUV? The new vehicle is blocking my view.”He was stationed in a tree behind the bench on the other side of the parking lot.
“Davis hasn’t gotten out.”Flynn was off to the right of the bench. He was lying on another bench in the sunshine, earbuds in and book in hand. Just another spring afternoon at the park.
The black SUV parked, and a man emerged from the front passenger seat. The large newcomer was dressed in a gray summer-weight suit. By the way he paused by the passenger door and scanned the area, Ryker pegged him as part of a security detail. A clone of him hopped out of the backseat and moved out of the way. Finally, a man in a navy suit got out of the back of the SUV and started towards the path that would take him passed the bench and the old man.
Ryker’s gut knotted.
“Shit,”Rush breathed.“That’s Cal Wallingford.”
“Son of a bitch,”Cash muttered.
This was not who he thought would get out of the SUV. Wallingford was supposed to be one of the good ones. This did not bode well.
Wallingford walked up to the old man on the bench and greeted him warmly.“Bill, good to see you.”
“Cal,”the older man acknowledged.
Davis finally got out of the SUV and joined the other two on the bench.
“Cal,”he said but merely eyed the other man.
Cal’s security detail spread out and kept their head on a swivel, as if watching for any potentially threatening activity. Lazlo joined them. They were good but not the best. They hadn’t even glanced in Ryker’s direction. The woods should’ve been searched before their protectee had gotten out of the SUV. It was only a small copse so it wouldn’t have taken long. It’s what Ryker and all his teammates would’ve done. Of course, he’d never let his person take this meeting, so there was that.
“Nice of you to join me,”the old man said as he threw a bit of bread to the ducks.“I’m Bill Parsons. I don’t expect, Senator, that you’ve heard of me. In fact, I would be quite disappointed if you had.”
Davis merely nodded.“Why are we here? Why aren’t we meeting at the usual spot, Cal?”