Shattered Lies (Web of Lies #3)(38)

It seemed like an eternity of listening to blood pounding in his ears before the door opened and the agents exited with guns drawn and cleared the area. “We’re all clear, sir,” the lead agent told him, holstering his gun, and Dr. Wilson moved to push him out of the elevator and over to the presidential limo nicknamed The Beast.

The garage was musty and humid, even with the cooler night air. It felt strange to Birch to feel non-air conditioned air and to smell something other than medical cleaner and sterilized air. He couldn’t wait to get into the car and back home. He was tired of being watched as if he was about to die, and he was ready to get back to work.

His doctor stopped the chair as two agents helped Birch stand. His legs ached, but the energy coursing through them as they were finally used again made him want to run around the garage. Instead, he shuffled his way to the car and slowly lowered himself to the leather seat. His legs may have wanted to run, but his ribs did not.

“How are you feeling?” Tate asked from her seat next to him when the agents shut the door.

“Good. I’ll be up and moving soon. My legs want to, so I think I’ll try the bike later today. How are you doing?”

Tate smiled. Even without a speck of makeup on, she was stunning. Her light pink lips tightened with annoyance, though. “I can’t wait to get the pins out of my leg. They’re irritating. I can see and feel them under my skin.”

“It feels strange going back to the White House, doesn’t it?” Birch asked as he looked out the window. He reached and took Tate’s hand in his and squeezed. They were alive, and they were ready to fight.

“It seems as if it’s been months when it’s only been days,” Tate said, summing up exactly what he felt as they pulled into the White House entrance.

The parade of agents began again as they were moved to the residence where his butler, Gene, looked both relieved and worried. “Sir,” the older man in his tux said, stepping forward as some of the agents broke away to search the entire residence even though police dogs had probably just left, “it is so good to have you home. We’ve all been so worried.”

“Thank you, Gene. It’s good to be back. You didn’t have to stay up for us, though. Go get some sleep. In a couple hours we’ll be all ready to go for the day.”

Gene shook his graying head and cleared his throat. “Absolutely not. When they called to prepare us for your arriva,l I insisted on being here. I wouldn’t dream of leaving you right now, sir. And you too, ma’am.” He looked at Tate and smiled warmly. “There’s a piece of chocolate cake in your old room and a hot bath with something special in it to help with your aches.”

Tate practically started drooling. “You’re the best, Gene. I hope we tell you that enough.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, bowing his head briefly. “There is also a bath waiting for you, sir. I know it must feel good to get out of the hospital. Is there anything you’d like, sir?”

“Not right now, but I want a real breakfast and not that stuff they forced on me at the hospital.”

“It’s all clear, sir,” an agent said, stopping in front of them. “We’ll move to our regular posts. Call if you need anything.” Birch thanked the agents and breathed a sigh of relief when they were finally gone.

“Gene,” Dr. Wilson said, “could you take Tate to her room while I get the president in bed, and then, Tate, I’ll be down to help you get in the bath.”

“Of course,” Gene said, taking Tate’s chair from Humphrey.

“See you soon, Tate. Goodnight, Gene. I’m heading out.” Humphrey smiled as he pecked a kiss to Tate’s cheek.

Dr. Wilson pushed Birch into his bedroom and helped him get ready for the couple hours he was going to sleep. A bath sounded good, but so did sleep. “How about a shower, Doc?”



* * *



Five minutes later, Dr. Wilson, who was in his late fifties with a full head of light brown hair and the body of a huggable grandparent, led Birch back into the bedroom. “Oh, let me help!” Humphrey jumped up from his seat and took Birch’s other arm.

“Thanks, Humphrey. What are you doing here? I thought you left.”

“I figured I’d just sleep in my office tonight, but I got a call I thought I should talk to you about.” Humphrey sat on the chair on the other side of the room as Dr. Wilson made sure Birch was reclining comfortably.

“I’ll leave you to it. I’m going to help Tate and then head to bed myself. Call if you need anything. You can get up and around now, just slowly and carefully. Rest, move, rest, move. And ice. I’ll have Gene bring some to you. Good night.”

“Night, Doc. Thanks,” Birch called as his doctor left, closing the door behind him. Humphrey was across the room, so Birch had to turn his head slightly to the left to look at Humphrey. “So, what call did you get?”

“A very worried Alex. Some hacker named Rock Star, whom I think Alex likes, found a wire transfer from Sebastian to Roland Westwood that went through an hour ago. A wire of $1,000,000. She’s trying to follow it, but it’s being transferred and broken up all over the world by Roland.”

It hurt more than the physical pain he was in. His best friend had betrayed him. “Tell Alex to notify the group to apprehend Sebastian immediately and hand him over to Jason for questioning.”