by Carsen Taite
He grabbed her shoulder and steadied her with a grin. “You’ll get used to it.” She grimaced a smile of thanks and walked briskly from the train, leaving him to follow or not. She could get used to a lot of things, but she was certain he wasn’t one of them.
They walked a few short blocks to McNair where the sergeant at the gate checked their IDs and waved them through. A few minutes later, they were escorted into a classroom where Rook stood to greet them. Like every other time Zoey had seen her, Rook was dressed like she’d walked off the pages of a fashion magazine. Today she wore a slim, tailored black suit with a crisp pale yellow shirt, open at the collar. She looked dashing and confident, and Zoey was certain if good looks were a gateway to success, Rook’s clients got their money’s worth. She opened her mouth to say so before she remembered Dixon’s presence and bit her tongue. “You’re early,” she said instead.
“So are you. I just happen to be earlier.”
Rook barely gave Dixon a glance, for which Zoey gave a silent cheer. “Is Lieutenant Bloomfield on his way?”
Rook sat back down and shrugged. “So they say, but I don’t have your kind of pull around here. Maybe you should check with whoever’s in charge and see if they’ll give you more than a ‘wait here, ma’am.’ I don’t think I’ve been ma’amed so much in my entire life.”
“Welcome to my world.” Zoey paused, unsure what to do next. She’d spoken to the provost to arrange the interview with Bloomfield, but she didn’t know where his office was or even what he looked like. She started to pull out her phone to call him when Lieutenant Bloomfield came through the door.
Donny approached Dixon first and offered a salute. He had to know that she was the one who’d arranged the interview, but he deferred to the only male in the room, immediately losing points in Zoey’s estimation. When he finally turned and saluted her, he wore a cocky, fraternity boy grin and she braced for a confrontation. “Let’s get started, Lieutenant.”
“Sure,” he said. “The sooner you can clear all this up, the better off we’ll all be, right, Major?”
She ignored the implication that they were merely going through the paces to give his father a break and introduced Rook. “Ms. Daniels is here at the request of the White House. Anything you can say to us, you can say to her. Understood?” She watched him give Rook a once-over, his gaze lingering longer than she liked. She couldn’t tell if he found her attractive—he’d have to be dead not to—or if he was sizing up a challenge. Either way, she wanted to move this along.
“Tell us about the night at the Ivy Hotel. Was that the first time you used the services of the Lorraine Darcy Agency?”
“Wow, you really cut to the chase, don’t you?”
“I have a job to do.” Zoey didn’t bother to hide the growl in her voice, although she was walking a fine line considering this kid, arrogant as he was, was also the son of a four-star general who was about to become one of the most powerful people at the Pentagon. But she wasn’t used to subordinates being so informal and it was disconcerting. Nothing she’d witnessed from General Bloomfield would have led her to believe his son would lack discipline, but maybe being the youngest child in a military family was kind of like being a preacher’s kid. She decided to take a different tack, relaxing her posture and leaning in like they were old friends. “Look, I get it.” She waved her arm. “Being you can’t be easy. You have a lot to live up to, and I’m guessing there’s always someone riding you about fulfilling your legacy. Your dad’s a tough guy, and with the Senate hearings on his confirmation coming up, I bet there’s even more pressure than usual. Am I right?”
Donny shifted in his chair and looked around the room, everywhere but at her. She’d struck a nerve, but didn’t want to press too hard for fear the pain would send him running rather than get him to open up. Besides, there was no telling how Dixon might spin what she’d said when they got back to the office, and she didn’t need Bloomfield thinking she was running him down to his own son.
Spin. The word had become part of her lexicon since she’d met Rook. She’d hated it before, having considered it useful for nothing but covering up a lie or making something unpleasant sound exactly the opposite. But now she found she was developing spin of her own, already thinking about the way she would describe this interview to her superiors. She shot a look at Rook who nodded encouragement. “Lieutenant?” she said.
“It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Sure it wasn’t,” Dixon broke in. “You were just having fun.”
Zoey gave him a murderous look and then caught Rook smiling at her, seeming to enjoy her discomfort. Ignoring them both, she pressed on. “Just tell me where you got the contact for the agency, if you or any of the others contacted them before, and what was your arrangement with them?”
He grinned. “If that’s all you want to know, that’s easy. One of the guys, I don’t remember which one, saw an ad online, you know, on one of those lonely heart, matchmaking sites. Pretty sure it was his first time and I’d never heard of them before. As for the arrangement, it wasn’t anything special. We invited some women to a party and they came. They drank and hung out with us. Some asshole thought we were having too much fun and called the cops. End of story.”
It was far from the end. Zoey opened her file and pulled out photos of the hotel room the manager had taken after the police were called. She wondered if the reporter from the Post already had copies of these and why he hadn’t run them yet. Probably waiting to see if he could get evidence about more senior officers partaking of all that the Darcy Agency had to offer and saving it for publication until after the president made his nomination of Bloomfield official. She spread the photos out on the table and pressed her finger on one depicting nearly a dozen liquor bottles in a pile by the side of the bed. “Is that part of what you mean by too much fun?”
“So now we’re in trouble for drinking?”
She ignored him and jabbed a finger at another picture of a lacy thong hanging from the lamp by the side of the bed. “You pay extra for the decor?”
“Guys having fun on a Friday night. Surely even you cut loose from time to time.”
“Absolutely. I make a point of it every time I return from a battle zone,” she said, a raw enjoyment at the blow she struck with the dig. The most combat he’d ever seen was probably in that hotel room. She let a few beats pass. “But I never have to pay for it.”
“Lucky you,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
She waited, thinking he would say more, but he clammed up. She had more questions to ask, but he probably wasn’t going to respond truthfully, so she chose the most important one, the one she’d been dreading. “Has your father ever used the services of the Darcy Agency?”
She heard Dixon stifle a gasp, but Rook’s face, to her credit, didn’t change from her neutral, I’m just soaking all this in, expression. Bloomfield, on the other hand, stood so fast, he sent his chair crashing to the ground.
“I hope you enjoyed this little outing, Major, because it’s going to be your last,” he said.
“Maybe so, but at least I’ll have done my duty.”
Donny shook his head, made a show of saluting Dixon, and marched out of the room. Zoey looked down at the table. Her knuckles were white from gripping the side, and she took a few long, slow breaths to calm down. Her role as a ball-buster was a complete facade, and once General Bloomfield heard from his son, she was probably going to be reassigned to a post in the middle of nowhere for the rest of her career, assuming she still had one.
“Well, that went well,” Rook said, breaking the silence.
“I should go talk to him,” Dixon said, staring longingly at the door.
Zoey snapped to attention. “You’ll do no such thing.” She could tell Dixon was practically foaming at the mouth to corner Donny and commiserate about her tactics in a ploy to find a way to suck up to Bloomfield Senior and undermine her command. “We’ll talk to him again, but not today. He’s a hothead and needs to calm do
wn before we get any decent information out of him.”
“I agree,” Rook said. “Besides, there are other ways to get the information we need.” Before Zoey could press her on the point, she changed the subject. “Anyone else here we need to talk to?”
Dixon shuffled through his file. “Colonel Mitchell is on the list. He wasn’t there that night, but his name was on the list of possible ‘clients.’ He’s a professor in the, get this, Information and Cyberspace department. We asked him to come by yesterday, but he wasn’t available. Maybe he’s on campus today.”
Zoey picked up her phone and dialed the provost to ask if Mitchell was available. She probably should’ve mentioned he’d come by her office yesterday and chewed her out, but she’d written it off to posturing on his part and forgotten about it until now. She’d wanted to wait until Louden got back with her about Mitchell’s file before pursuing an interview with him again, but Dixon was right, they may as well see if he was around while they were here.
The provost was in meetings off campus for the rest of the afternoon, but his secretary said she would take a message and have him call her tomorrow. Deciding they could wait one more day before poking the beast, Zoey told her that would be fine. “Mitchell’s going to have to wait until tomorrow. I guess it’s time to start working through the rest of the names on the list. Shall we head back to the office?”
“Actually,” Rook said, “I’m supposed to meet with Ms. Scott to update her about our progress and I’m sure she’ll want to hear from you directly. Perhaps Major Dixon could pull the files we need, and we could start in on the rest of the list tomorrow?”
Zoey looked at Dixon who was shaking his head no, which only made her want to do the opposite. Telling herself she was only agreeing to Rook’s plan to irritate Dixon, she said, “That sounds like a great plan. Major, we’ll see you tomorrow.” Without waiting for a response, she followed Rook from the room, full of renewed energy at the prospect of spending the rest of the day with her.
* * *
Rook held the door to the car open and waved Zoey in, happy she’d managed to wrangle her away from the annoying presence of Major Douchebag. Clearly, Zoey found Dixon as annoying as she did, and she’d admired the way Zoey had put him in his place. While Zoey might feel it was her duty to put up with another afternoon being in a room with Dixon, Rook had no such allegiance and no one could pay her enough to suffer his presence any longer today. As she settled into the car, George asked where they were headed next. Shooting a look of contrition at Zoey, she gave him an address in Maryland.
“We’re not meeting Ms. Scott at the White House?” Zoey asked.
“Please don’t call her Ms. Scott. She’ll get a big head. And actually, we’re not meeting Julia at all. Not today, anyway.”
Zoey’s brow furrowed. “Any chance you want to tell me where we’re going?”
“We’re taking a field trip to the offices of the Lorraine Darcy Agency. I thought it might be fun to drop in and see what kind of women make otherwise upstanding officers act like fools.” She paused and stared at Zoey’s expression. “You look mad. Are you mad?”
“Mad is not the word. I guess I’m not sure why you felt compelled to lie.”
“It wasn’t a lie so much as a cover, a way to get you away from Major Marshall Dixon, who I’m hoping you find as annoying as I do.”
“Trust me, he’s not my favorite person by any means, but what if he asks me later about the meeting at the White House in front of General Sharp or Bloomfield?”
“He won’t. Guys like him—all that promise and nothing to show for it—don’t like feeling inferior and there’s no way he’ll draw attention to the fact you were called to the White House and he was left behind.”
“How do you know so much about him?”
Rook spent a moment considering how much to share. She’d had Eric dig into Dixon’s background for no other reason than she wanted to know more about the people she was working with, but Zoey was likely to take offense at the intrusion. What she’d found hadn’t been all that interesting. Dixon had graduated from West Point and served his required five years of active duty at Fort Irvine and Fort Polk, respectively. A West Point graduate relegated to two of the most despised posts in the service likely meant he’d always been as much of a douche as he was now. He’d started working at the Pentagon a year ago, and Eric hadn’t been able to find anything about why or how he’d gotten the reassignment. “Remember what I said about other ways to get information? Well, I did a little research. I like to know who I’m working with.”
“And what about me? Did you do a little research about me too?”
Rook swore she detected a hint of flirtation in Zoey’s voice, but she wasn’t sure she could trust her reactions where Zoey was concerned. She tested the waters with some mild flirtation of her own. “Maybe,” she said with a grin. “Is there something special you’d like me to know?”
“Where is this place we’re going?”
With the question, Zoey edged slightly away, subtle enough to deny, but Rook noticed it just the same. Okay, so they were back to business. She was going to get whiplash from the back and forth, but two could play this cat-and-mouse game. “Interestingly enough, the agency has an actual office in the business district.” She pointed out the window, recognizing the building from the pictures Eric had emailed to her. “It’s in that building over there.” She told George to park on the street in front, and when the car stopped, she turned to Zoey. “You ready?”
“I’m not sure this is a good idea. What if we go in there and rattle the cage and one of them talks to the press? Wasn’t the whole point of this investigation to control the flow of information? Once we start asking questions of a bunch of civilians, there’s no putting that back in the bottle.”
“Trust me. I have a plan.” Rook climbed out of the car and held out a hand. Zoey hesitated at first but then grabbed on and followed her. The building was older than she’d expected, architecture from the early seventies with nicks and blemishes in the facade that spoke of being left behind for newer, fresher office space. Somehow Rook had thought the high dollar escort service would be in one of the fancier, trendier buildings that had popped up over the last year, but maybe high dollar was a relative term. As they walked through the doors, Rook said, “Let me do the talking. Just stand there and look gorgeous.”
Zoey bristled at the remark, and Rook felt like a heel, wondering how often people assumed Zoey’s good looks outweighed her sharp intellect. “Sorry, that was rude. I’m just trying to keep you out of trouble. If anyone asks if you were here, you can deny you said anything to anyone, and say it was all me. Fair enough?”
“Let’s do this thing before I change my mind.” Zoey took off without waiting for a response.
The registry in the lobby listed the Lorraine Darcy Agency offices on the tenth floor. They were the only two people on the elevator on the way up, but they rode in silence. Rook felt like every time she opened her mouth, she risked pushing Zoey further away, which was probably for the best, but the quiet between them was noisy with unanswered questions. Thanks to Eric’s skills, she knew all about Zoey’s lifetime of service, but she knew little about her life outside the Army. What kind of things did she like to do? What were her favorite foods? What kind of women did she like to date and why wasn’t she with someone now?
That last one was high on the list, but she supposed she could guess the answer. Zoey probably liked women who were as committed to duty as she was and she wasn’t dating one of these women because she had impossible standards. Rook realized she had no real basis for the supposition, but she’d bet the entire big ass retainer she’d made from Senator Newman that she was right.
The elevator stopped and Rook stepped out, leading the way. Contrary to what she’d told Zoey, she didn’t have a plan in mind, but experience told her there was no substitute for a surprise visit. They walked down the well-worn carpeted hall to Darcy’s suite, and Rook noted several vacant of
fices along the way.
“I guess I never imagined prostitutes having office space,” Zoey said. “I mean what could they possibly use it for? Interviewing applicants? Training?”
Rook placed a finger over her lips and whispered, “You’re hilarious. Don’t you dare make me laugh before I go in.”
“Before you go in? Don’t you mean ‘we’?”
“Sure, but remember the rule.”
“Right, no talking without your permission.” Zoey rolled her eyes and pointed at the door. “Are we going in or not?”
Rook pushed through the door and quickly realized they wouldn’t be talking to anyone at the Lorraine Darcy Agency today. The large open area was littered with haphazardly placed furniture and desk phones. File cabinet drawers stood open, their emptiness apparent from yards away. Rook spun in place, looking for something, anything to give her a clue that this space had been the headquarters for a group of escorts, but all she saw was the same kind of detritus that could have been left when a CPA or some other equally boring business moved out.
Zoey knelt and picked up an envelope off the floor. She read it and then handed it over. “You think this means anything?”
Rook took it from her, letting her fingers linger on Zoey’s for a few seconds longer than necessary before she reluctantly pulled away. The envelope had been slit open cleanly and the contents slid out easily. Rook skimmed the page twice before handing it to Zoey.
Zoey thumped the paper with her finger. “This is an eviction letter.”
“Yes,” Rook answered simply, her brain churning. “Look at when it’s dated.”
Zoey traced the typewritten words. “That’s the day after the incident at the Ivy.”
“Exactly.”
“What do you think it means?”
“I don’t know,” Rook answered. She didn’t know, but she had some ideas. “Maybe someone reported their little run-in at the Ivy to the building management.”
“But that’s not what you really think, is it?”
