The Plan

Chapter 20

Fall of 2009

Peter looked at her and asked, “You did all this research on your own?”

She shrugged, “I’ve got plenty of time.”

“Kyla, why are you doing this?”

“You know why, Peter. And don’t call me by that name.”

The older man just shook his head.

“I know you know why my parents died. He wanted my father dead for a reason. What is it?”

He just stared at her, emotions of anger and sorrow in his eyes.

“Peter, I need to know.”

He continued to stare at her, and finally, he told her about the tape.

 

April 2, 2011 (12:00am)

“Where’s the tape?” she asked the paralyzed man. She leaned closer behind him. The room was dark enough to shadow her and her position wouldn’t give him any clue of who she was. She's careful not to wear any perfume so no one could identify her.

“What tape?” Stuart asked in a strong, angry voice. Though he’s held vulnerable, he’s not afraid to show his anger. “Who are you?”

“It doesn’t matter who I am. I want the tape.”

“What tape?” he asked again.

She held the blade closer against his skin and hissed, “The tape from 1996.”

“I don’t have it anymore. I destroyed it.”

“You’re lying,” she almost shouted.

“If I’m lying, what made you think I’ll tell you where it is?” he chuckled and she almost ripped his throat if not for the loud knock by the door.

“Don’t make a sound,” she ordered in a whisper. No one would enter, she knew it—she locked the door herself.

“Dad?” a male voice said from outside. “Are you in there? Why is the door locked? Open up. I need to talk to you.”

“It’s my son,” Stuart said, “He’ll have the door open in no time.”

She hesitated for a moment and finally made a decision. With one hand, she held Stuart’s neck and squeezed. After a few seconds, she felt his heavy head rest against his shoulder. Quietly, she left the room through the open window that led to the garden.

“What happened?” Sean asked eagerly when she found him by the hallway.

She looked at the scene by the door leading to Stuart’s study. Two security men were trying to open the door, a man in tuxedo anxiously waiting. It’s Stuart’s son, John Stuart Jr. “Nothing, he won’t tell me where it is.”

“What did you do to him?” he asked in a low voice, looking back at the scene behind him.

“I did some old trick,” she smiled before spinning around to go back to the party.

“What trick?”

“I put him to sleep,” she replied.

“Okay, I’m not going to ask how,” he said, holding her by the elbow.

She looked down at his hand and said, “No touching, remember?”

He did not let go, instead his hand transferred to the small of her back as he leaned closer to her ear and said, “You know, considering the sexual tension between us, the no touching rule is a bad idea,” he stopped her protest by adding, “People were watching us and I’m pretty sure they noticed we’ve been gone for a while. It is better that we make them think we did something else rather than be suspected of entering Stuart’s office.

He’s right, she thought, smiling sweetly. “Then we better go now.”

“Not yet,” he slid his hand up her bare back and guided her to the dance floor, “there’s still dancing.”

By one o’clock, they left the party. Talk of Stuart fainting inside his study and almost burning down his office with his cigar spread like wildfire. Fortunately, no one suspected anything foul happened. Well, not until Stuart woke up.

“Someone else must have the tape,” she said in the car on the way home.

“Who?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you sure Stuart doesn’t have it?”

“I’m pretty sure. He’s not stupid to have it around.”

“Then why did you go to him? You just wanted to scare him?”

“No, I want him to panic. And when he panics, he’ll make some calls.”

He whistled, “Wow, I didn’t think of that.”

“I tapped his phone, so it will not be long before we’ll know who he calls first.”

“When did you tap his phone?”

“You saw my plan,” she said.

Yes, he did, but it was so damned complicated to remember where and when she executed that part.

“Thank you,” she told him when they reached her door, “I enjoyed the evening.”

He shrugged, looking into her eyes, “No problem. I enjoyed dancing with you,” he smiled.

She nodded and finally turned around to open her door.

“Phoebe,” he said softly behind her. She turned around questioningly, a little surprised that he did not leave.

“What?”

“Just want to say a proper good night,” he said it before he bent down and kissed her. She stood frozen for a while before she finally found herself answering his kiss. It was not short, but it was not that long either. It was more like acceptance on her part, and testing on his. “I told you no touching is a bad idea,” he whispered before leaning back away from her. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” and then he left.

(1:00am)

He couldn’t sleep. Something’s bothering him.

He looked down at the tape in his hand.

I should destroy this, he thought to himself. He’s been telling himself the same thing for years, but something always held him back from doing so.

The tape held power.

With it, he had come to where he was right now. With it, he still had the Senator in his hands.