by J. L. Brown
“Congratulations,” the president said, as she walked around her desk, hand extended.
“Thank you.”
“You’re batting a thousand.”
Jade shrugged. “I win more than I lose.”
“And modest. Please have a seat. I was just about to have tea. Care to join me?”
“That would be nice.”
President Fairchild placed the order and returned to the chair next to the sofa. A woman brought in the tea service and placed it on the table between them. She poured for both of them.
“Thank you, Sarah.” The woman left. “And to you for solving the ‘Robin Hood’ case.” The president lifted her cup and toasted Jade. “Well done.”
The cups, fragile and expensive, displayed an exquisite design. Jade added a spoonful of sugar to hers before taking a sip.
“There is a reason why I asked for this private meeting with you,” President Fairchild continued.
Jade wondered what it could be. With Ethan leaving, he couldn’t have volunteered her services for another case.
Or could he?
“I haven’t forgotten my promise to you,” the president said.
“What promise?”
“The one I made to you over a year ago.”
Puzzled, she said, “I apologize, Madam President. I don’t remember.”
“I told you that perhaps you would come work for me someday.” The president replaced her cup in the saucer and placed it on the table. “That someday is today. I’d like for you to join my staff.”
Jade glanced around the Oval Office. Not one to impress easily, she was impressed. The elegance. The power.
Work here?
“Why me?”
“As I said before, I trust you, and I need strong people around me. I have big plans for you, Jade Harrington.”
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SEVENTEEN
Quantico, Virginia
“Thanks for coming.”
“Not often a beautiful woman asks me out to lunch.”
She looked askance at Max. “But it does happen?”
“What a beautiful day,” he said, ignoring her question. “The dog days of August are finally over.”
They sat next to each other on a bench. He glanced around the small park she had chosen near the FBI Academy. At this hour, they were the only two people in the park, except for a young woman pushing a toddler on a swing. “This is nice. I didn’t know this park existed.”
“You need to get out more,” she said.
“The day all the serial killers take a day off, is when I’ll take a day off.”
“You might need to take a day off before then.” She handed him a sandwich she’d picked up at a deli down the street. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
She told him about her career choices: joining the president’s staff as a special assistant or staying with the Bureau and filling in for Ethan while he was on leave.
Max chewed his egg-salad sandwich. “They both sound like great opportunities.” He swallowed, thoughtful. “Aren’t you forgetting one?”
She frowned. “No.”
“What about moving to Seattle? We have a local office there.”
Jade’s cheeks grew warm. “Why would I do that?”
He shot her a look. “You forget I study human behavior for a living.”
She bit into her Italian sandwich. Squeals of laughter emanated from the child on the swing. Jade never thought much about having children. A family. She hadn’t thought about it at all.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Look at me,” he said.
She stopped eating and complied.
“My wife left me after thirty years of marriage. Because I was committed to the job. My vows to the Bureau more important than my vows to her. Do I regret the choice I made? Sometimes.” He gestured at the child. “But look at her. She doesn’t have a care in the world. She’s free. Safe. That’s why I do what I do.” He turned to her. “You’ve been chosen. To serve the president or the Bureau. You don’t have a choice. You’re made like me.”
She balled up her sandwich wrapper and shot it at a nearby trash can. Good. “You’re my godfather. You’re supposed to guide me. Which position should I choose?”
“Duty is your only choice.”
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHTEEN
Washington, DC
Tonight, he dined alone at the Capital Grille. The crowd seemed light, even for a week night. He read the Washington Times as he ate. The only legitimate paper in DC. He stared at a photograph of the happy couple.
He glanced around. The restaurant was empty.
Odd.
“They say you shouldn’t drink alone.”
“They’re probably right,” Cole said, “but they never said anything about eating.” He held up the newspaper. “Nice picture.”
“Thank you,” the president said. “May I sit down?”
“Knock yourself out.” He circled his fork in the air. “I suppose you had something to do with this?”
“The Service takes my safety seriously.”
He laid the paper on the table. “Well, I’m glad the Homo Erectus came home. Your daughter is an agitator with an arrest record. You had an illegitimate child who’s gone missing. And your son has jumped ship to the good side. You need a man around the house.”
“No one’s here. You can drop the act.”
“What act?”
“Do you really believe all the stuff that you say?”
He dropped his fork. “What did you say?”
“What’s wrong? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
More like heard one.
Landon Phillips had said almost those exact words to him. Right before he shot Cole’s daughter. He pushed his plate away. He was no longer hungry. He dabbed his mouth with a napkin and then wiped his forehead.
“Whitney, why are you here?”
“It’s Madam President, Cole. Your wife came to visit me several months ago. Did she tell you?”
“Ashley? What for?”
“She told me about your son. CJ, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “She didn’t tell me.”
“Your wife is a strong woman.”
He had never thought of Ashley as strong. He remembered her bravery when their home was invaded by that monster. And how she was always there for him. And his family.
“What did she say?”
The president said, “She asked me whether I could put forth a federal anti-bullying law.”
This was interesting. “Can you?”
“I can, but I’ll need your help.”
“I’m listening.”
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETEEN
Washington, DC
“Jade, I think you’re going to want to see this.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Jade frowned as she replaced the handset. She locked her computer, left her office, and stopped at Pat’s cubicle.
“What is it?”
Pat turned in her chair. “I know the Robin Hood case is closed, but something about it kept nagging at me. You might want to pull up a seat.”
Jade looked around, but didn’t see a vacant chair. She eyed the agent in the next cubicle.
He stood and grabbed his coffee mug. “I need a break anyway.”
She scooted his chair next to Pat’s. Pat’s fingers flew across the keyboard at the speed of sound.
“The hack was sophisticated. The perpetrator created a malware program and sent it to potential donors in an email asking them for money.”
“Wouldn’t that be double-dipping?”
A slight smile from Pat. “Good one. He named it Astrea.”
“Goddess of Justice.”
“Correct. Astrea detected the passwords to the victims’ banking sites stored on their computers.” Pat stopped typing. “I watched a recording of your interview with Blakeley and, between that and what you told me, he just doesn’t seem to possess the skill
s or background to pull off something like this.”
“Noah didn’t seem technically proficient to be the brainchild behind this,” Jade conceded.
“I don’t think he was. I’ve been working with CART on his computer. His password was ‘equalityone.’”
“There’s that.”
“At first, we thought that since he was one of the victims, the likelihood of him being the perpetrator was small. Then, conveniently, all the evidence pointed to him. But now I think he was not only the victim of theft, but that he was set up to take the fall for a crime he didn’t commit.”
Jade sat back in her chair. “Why do you think that?”
“I believe someone hacked into Blakeley’s computer a second time and installed a file that would make it appear as if all the transactions were conducted from his computer.”
“Can you prove it?”
“Not yet.”
“If it wasn’t him, who was it?”
Pat’s fingers stilled. “That, we don’t know.”
*
Back in her office, Jade packed up her briefcase and thought about Noah Blakeley.
He had been charged with ninety-nine counts of wire, bank, and computer fraud; computer intrusion; aggravated identity theft; computer hacking; and violation of numerous other federal laws. If convicted, he would spend the rest of his life in prison.
If Pat were right, she could never live with herself. She had told Pat to quietly continue the investigation while she untangled all the “good” Equality One had done.
“Outta here?”
Micah joined her in the hallway as she headed for the elevator.
“Kind of late for you,” she said.
He grinned. “Trying to impress the boss.”
She pressed the down button. “I think you’ve already done that.”
He looked at her. “Not him. You.”
Her heart may have skipped a beat, but she ignored it.
They both stared at the numbers above the door, as the elevator descended. He smelled faintly of cologne. Micah wasn’t encroaching on her personal space, but she was cognizant of his lean, muscular body just the same.
At the second level of the parking garage, he hesitated, allowing her to exit first.
“You parked on this level, too?”
“No,” he said.
“I don’t need you to walk me to my car.”
He shrugged. “I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for my mum.”
“Huh?”
“She raised me right.” He smiled. “Isn’t that what you Yanks say?”
She couldn’t help smiling. “I guess.”
“I’ve been meaning to tell you. Great work on the Robin Hood case.”
He didn’t know she had authorized Pat to continue working on it. “Thanks.”
They stopped behind her car.
“On to the next one,” he said, his look intense.
“Yep.”
He cocked his head. “You mean it?”
“Sure.”
“Good.”
“Where’s this coming from, Micah?”
“I just think you need to focus on your next case. Let Robin Hood go. Move on.”
“Thanks for the advice.”
“That’s what I’m here for. Good night, Agent Harrington.”
He strode toward the elevator. As he got on, he turned and held up a hand. He stared at her until the doors closed.
She felt an inexplicable chill, as she opened her car door.
Why did his advice feel more like a warning?
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY
Arlington, Virginia
President Whitney Fairchild said something to Senator Eric Hampton, who gave her a false smile.
“I wonder what she said?”
Zoe swallowed a sip of her beer from a microbrewery in nearby Burke. “Not sure. But he’s not happy. The legislation had originally been a few votes shy. He was pressured into making it happen.”
“By the president?”
Zoe shook her head. “Cole Brennan.”
“Interesting.”
The two friends were sprawled on Jade’s living-room couch watching the news. After her weird run-in with Micah, she wanted some company. On the TV screen, the president moved to a table where a blue hardcover folio held the New New Deal Coalition Act.
“Hampton will smile to her face today, and be back at her throat tomorrow.”
Jade took a pull of her beer. “Is he worse than Sampson?”
“Not even close. When we lie, we get fired. Since he switched parties, Sampson lies every time he opens his mouth. That’s not just my opinion either. Politico recently ranked him one of the least honest politicians.”
“That’s saying something.”
“He’ll get his, though.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Word on the street is that his farming corporation in Nebraska employs illegal workers.”
“Mexicans?”
Zoe nodded. “Guess he didn’t build that wall fast enough.”
The president selected a pen, and smiled, as she signed the New New Deal Coalition Act, the most extensive—and expensive—economic legislation in this country’s history. Standing behind her was former President Richard Ellison, who had flown in for the occasion.
“Ellison being there is huge,” Zoe said. “Bipartisan cooperation. If only the rest of his party could follow suit.”
Jade sipped her beer. With Zoe, she didn’t need to say much.
“I guess she’s not going to mention Xavi,” Zoe said.
“Not today.”
A competing story to the signing of the historic legislation was the announcement that the vice president of the United States, Xavi Fernandez, had resigned for personal reasons. This was only the third time a vice president had resigned in US history.
“I’m glad she finally stood up for herself and got rid of that misogynistic ass.”
Jade glanced over at her friend. “It was forced?”
“That’s what I hear. He’s such a potato.” She gave Zoe a questioning look. “Someone who has lost his heritage. Brown on the outside. White on the inside.”
“Got it,” Jade said. “Your ‘word on the street’ seems pretty informed. Anyway, I think Fairchild can take care of herself. Maybe she was waiting for the right time.”
“I just wish she’d take a stand against special interests. Wall Street. Getting big money out of politics. Everyone needs to stand for something.” She glanced at Jade. “Even you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You can’t be middle-of-the-road on everything. Are you a progressive? A liberal? Gay? Straight?”
Jade smiled. “Nice try. I don’t do labels.”
“But you must stand for something.”
“I do. I stand for justice.” She thought of her last conversation with Max. “Duty.”
“Barf.” Zoe made a gagging motion. “You’re such a Bureau poster child.” Zoe sat up, placing her beer on the table in front of them, and stared at Jade. “That’s not good enough, though.” She placed her hand over her own heart. “You have to stand for something that’s personal. That matters. That hurts, if you don’t say something.”
“Why are you saying this?”
“Because we’re family.”
“We’re not related, Zoe.”
“Blood doesn’t mean family. Blood is just blood. You’re my chosen family, which means more to me.”
Jade was touched. Besides Max, Zoe was the only family she had. She should respond in kind. Instead, she lifted Zoe’s bottle and used a napkin to wipe the condensation off the table until it was spotless. She wiped the bottle’s bottom before placing it on the napkin.
She was saved from responding by a knock on the door.
“You expecting someone?” asked Zoe.
Jade shook her head, as she moved to the door. She returned with a large box and set it on the hardwood living room floor.
T
he packing slip contained a note:
Jade,
Thank you for solving my case. I hope these remind you of Seattle.
Always,
Kyle
“Aren’t you going to open it?” Zoe said, her tone, mischievous.
Jade had to be careful. Zoe knew her. If Zoe sensed that there was anything between Kyle and her, Zoe would tear her apart for information, like a starving Rottweiler left alone with a steak. She feigned nonchalance. “I’ll open it later.”
“Like hell you will.”
Zoe started tearing off the packaging. Jade hesitated, and then knelt to help her.
“Wow,” Zoe said.
Inside the box were dozens of original Motown albums from the Sixties through the Eighties. The sight brought an unusual pang to Jade’s heart. She missed Seattle. Missed the attention.
Missed Kyle.
Jade didn’t dare look at Zoe.
Zoe stared at the vinyls in disbelief or confusion. Jade couldn’t tell which. She turned to Jade, her eyes huge. “Why is she sending you these?”
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-ONE
The White House, Washington, DC
Whitney glanced around his office. “When are you going to settle in?”
Blake laughed. “I live here now.”
In between the Press Briefing Room and the Oval Office were the White House Press Secretary’s office and those of his large staff, which was appropriate since the press secretary served both the president and the press. Her official presidential portrait hung on one wall, as did the portraits of JFK and Bill Clinton. Another wall displayed a panoramic photograph of the pre-9/11 New York City skyline. Blake’s desk was covered with briefing books, reports, transcripts, and a few bottles of water. Papers covered the entire surface of his desk, the round table he used for meetings, and his credenza. She also spotted a couple of gourmet-food magazines.
She inclined her head toward the skyline. “Do you miss it?”
“Sometimes. As a foodie, I miss the restaurants. But I like the West End. Everything is within walking distance, and I can walk to work. A lot of great places to run. Maybe we should run sometime.”
