I snorted. “Ms. Walling, I came here to get evidence of the truth. Evidence that might help reverse the lie that’s being told on the news. Like I said, I am an agent from the CIA, and I work in Intel. I know what’s really going on, just like you do…but now, I need proof. I’m done sitting on the sidelines while our country is imploding before our very eyes.”
I didn’t want to reveal my true desires…to stop Veronica Hall in her tracks.
“You can call me Megan. So, this is about Owen? How certain are you that it’s a lie?”
I laughed in her face. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”
She pressed her lips together. Her face was deadpan.
“Megan, it’s all a sham. My department in the CIA is ten levels below the ground. I could be expatriated because of what I just told you, but I couldn’t care less at this point. I don’t plan on going back to work because I am done being a part of the lie. The bombs were planted to frame Owen. Their party was leading the polls by a landslide, and now look at them. Their plan worked. The democrats are in the lead. The traditional parties will stay in control. The Convergence Party is dead. Owen is innocent and always has been. I will never go back to work for them. She threatened me and my family…”
Megan’s blue eyes darted across the floor, and she gently held her hand over her mouth. For the first time since I had walked into her office, she didn’t seem so rigid. Her defensive glare was gone.
“Veronica…” The name was uttered so softly, I thought I had heard my own thoughts. I stared at her with wide eyes.
“What did you just say?”
“Veronica Hall,” she replied, looking up from the floor to meet my gaze. “Did she threaten you too?”
My jaw dropped. Anger and sadness welled up inside of me because the memory of Veronica’s threat was still fresh in my mind. I remembered how it felt. I remembered the fear and the pain it caused. Megan’s lip quivered, and her eyes began to glisten. I could only imagine what she felt like. She had to be in her late twenties. Far too young to be sworn to secrecy and threatened by a higher up.
I nodded slowly. “She is my boss.”
Megan coughed so hard I thought she was choking.
“Your boss?” she asked, and the tears began to fall. “I don’t know how you do it. I could barely stand to be in the same room as her. The look in her eyes haunts me to this day.”
“Did it,” I corrected. “I quit, although she doesn’t know that. I wouldn’t be talking to you right now if she would have taken my badge. I needed it to get in here.”
“How could you work around that vile woman?” she groaned and rubbed her forehead.
“I had no choice. It looks like you didn’t, either.”
“She came here with two NSA agents one day, over a year ago. She told me I would never see my family again. She put all the responsibility on my shoulders. It’s too much pressure…too much stress. I’ve had it all bottled up…”
Her cries were guttural. She sat down in one of the office chairs and buried her face in her palms. Over a year ago. That was after the Confinement, long before she was my boss.
“Do you know what it’s like to lie every day? Every fucking day I get calls, requests for appointments. All about the bombs on Black Monday. Black Monday this, Black Monday that. I smile, I go through the motions, and I give them the same paperwork you just had in your hands. They make copies, they shake my hand, and they go on their way. It’s killing me, Mr. Bolden. It’s killing me inside.”
“You can call me Lucas.”
She glanced up at me with tears streaming down her face.
“I know what it is like to go to work knowing that every second I spend there is contributing to more lies. The guilt keeps you up at night. It makes you want to disappear. I served overseas, Megan, and my work in the last three months has revolved entirely around the election. It was like I had a gun pointed at lady liberty, but I wasn’t the one pulling the trigger. The constitution I swore to protect under oath, I was breaking for a paycheck. I couldn’t live with myself.”
“I know…” She groaned, hiccupping violently. “I feel so guilty. A guy I was seeing recently, he goes to MIT, and he called me to tell me he knew the truth. I was so scared for my own safety I told, Lucas, I ratted him out. To the same people you work for. I—I feel like such a coward. I feel like such a fucking coward…”
Her bawling was so raw. It was hard for me to watch. I had dealt with Veronica for three months. She had dealt with her for much longer.
“That was you…” I mumbled. “I was working the night the tip came in.”
“Yes…” She groaned. “That was me, and I’m so ashamed to say it.”
I stayed quiet and let her emotions run their course. There was nothing I could do to console her. Our decisions were in the past. The only thing we could control now was the future, but this was a battle that couldn’t be won alone. I would need help, and Megan had the information I needed. After a few minutes her crying ceased.
“I used to date him,” she said, with her voice raspy from crying.
“Who?”
“Owen.”
I practically lost my breath.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. We were in love. Well, at least, it was the closest thing to love I’d ever felt.”
There was a pause.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” I began, “What happened?”
She shook her head and snorted, letting out a laugh.
“I made him choose between his party and me, and I regret it every day.”
I didn’t know quite what to say. I felt deeply for Megan’s situation because mine was very similar. We both had been threatened by Veronica. I still had only one thing on my mind—to get the evidence.
“Well, help him, by giving him the justice he deserves.”
She looked up at me and pursed her lips.
“Let’s give Veronica a dose of her own medicine,” I said, and held my hand out to help her up.
“Do you promise I’ll be safe? I don’t want her to do the things she said, Lucas. I am afraid of her.”
“I am not afraid of her, I am afraid of what she is capable of doing. I can’t promise you safety, but what I will say, is that the longer we wait to take action, the less of a chance we will have of stopping her.”
Her breathing shuddered, and she turned away from me, letting out a few cries.
“I’m…so scared…” She blubbered. “It scares me that I’ve been lying so long that I’ve begun to believe the lie. It’s been my entire existence since Black Monday.”
“It doesn’t have to be anymore.” I encouraged her softly.
“She threatened to kill me,” she hiccupped. Her blubbering continued. I bit down on my bottom lip to help ease my anger. Only someone as evil as Veronica could threaten a fellow citizen’s life. All because she wanted to ensure the continuity of her agenda.
“She needs to be held accountable for the damage she has done. Will you help me?”
Megan looked up at me and wiped tears across her face.
“How long will it take to bring her down?” she asked.
“I can’t say, but it’s a whole lot better than helping them any longer.”
She composed herself and stared up at me silently.
“When all of this is over, Megan, what side do you want to remember being on?”
The look in her eyes was priceless. It was the confidence that came along with making a decision to take back control. I imagined that was how I looked when I was walking out of the CIA building yesterday.
“Yes,” she said. “Follow me.”
We walked past the elevator and down a long hall. At the end of it, we reached a stainless-steel door. There was no doorknob, and the way the door appeared I couldn’t tell if it was automatic or traditional. Megan stepped to the right and placed her eye in front of what looked to be a peephole. I heard a scanning sound, and the door slid open. She walked through the opening, and I
stayed put.
“Can I come in?” I asked nervously.
“Yes,” she answered. “Surprisingly enough, there are no cameras in here. The only people who can get in are me and Veronica.”
“Who installed the retina scanner?”
“The NSA. Oh, and just wait—that was just the beginning.”
The room was far too large to be this barren. Everything was stark white. The faded, peach-colored carpet from the hallway was replaced with white tile. Fluorescent lights illuminated the room to the point where it bothered my eyes. Against the back wall was a black file cabinet. The closer we became, the more apparent it was that it wasn’t just any file cabinet. There were no handles, and it wasn’t made of the typical, thin sheet-metal. It looked to be some type of iron. On the wall beside of it was a device around the size of a human head. It was chest level with Megan.
She placed her hand on the touch screen, and a line of light flashed from the top to the bottom. It beeped when it finished scanning. She then put her eye close to the top of the device. Another scanning sound was heard.
“Please enter nine digit security code now,” a robotic voice said.
Megan used her index finger to press a series of numbers on the same screen that scanned her palm. A chime noise sounded.
“Identify confirmed—Megan Jeanine Walling.”
I heard something click, and the top drawer of the file cabinet slid out. It was amazing that before it opened it appeared to have no crevices. It looked like a solid object that couldn’t be opened. She pulled it out farther and handed me a file.
“This is what you will need,” she said. “Everything is in there.”
“Thank you, Megan. Thank you for helping me.”
She nodded with pursed lips. Her anxiety was apparent. She knew what Veronica could do if she found out.
“You’re welcome. I want to do what is right, for once.”
“It feels great, doesn’t it?”
“It feels better than living a lie,” she admitted. “Hide that and get out of here. Go do what you need to do. Please, for the sake of my own safety, take Veronica down.”
“I will,” I said. I extended my hand. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, and she placed her smooth hand in mine, gently shaking it.
“Be safe out there,” she said.
“You do the same. Skip town if anything bad happens, okay? Wait till this is all over.”
She nodded. “Go, I have to do the security procedure again to lock up.”
I turned away from Megan and exited the white room. My heart began to bounce around in my chest at the thought of what I was holding. There was a black stamp on the front.
CONFIDENTIAL
This was it. This was what I needed. I stuck the folder inside of my jacket and hit the down arrow on the elevator. Ding—I stepped in. I couldn’t believe I had gotten through to Megan, but I was glad that I did. She had bottled up ten times the amount of stress I had, and she finally let it all out in front of me.
I walked out on the ground floor and headed for the nearest exit. The cold, mid-Atlantic air hit me with refreshing relief. I continued north on 14th street. I left my car and phone at home. I wasn’t stupid. I wouldn’t allow them to track me. I bought a pre-paid phone, and my destination was already determined days ago. I had to do it out in the public, a place where I could be sure that no one was listening. I saw the twelve-story white-marble building come into view on the corner of Pennsylvania Avenue and 14th. I nervously waited for a crosswalk light to change and made my way across. I walked up the stone steps and through the revolving door. I had been in The Willard before—it was one of my favorite InterContinental hotels. The inside resembled a palace. Low lighting and deep hues filled the lobby. The floors were so shiny you could partly see your reflection. There were four people at reception, but I didn’t need their help. I already knew where the business center was. I walked toward it and saw that no one was inside. There were four computers, all with flat-screen monitors. On the far side of the counter was a copy machine. I sat down at the computer and began typing.
The New York Times Building.
The number appeared, and I punched it in my pre-paid phone. My hands were sweaty, and I became nervous. I had no idea if he would remember me, or if he was even there. Ten years ago, when I came back from Iraq, I was interviewed by one of his employees, but I had the chance of meeting him. I couldn’t forget that day because he did mention if I ever needed anything not to hesitate to contact him. I wasn’t the type that asked for help, but I thought in this situation it would be fitting. There was no one else I could give this information to. I worked for the CIA, and our system was so broken, there was no one that would dare try to get this information out to the public. My hope in Washington was dead. Now, it all boiled down to this one phone call.
Ring…Ring…Ring…Ring…
“New York Times, how may I direct your call?”
My heart was beating out of my chest I was so nervous. This had to work.
“Uh…hi, could I speak with Mr. Westlake? It is extremely urgent.”
“Mr. Westlake has been in meetings all day, I can send you to his voicemail.”
“Ma’am, please, don’t transfer me. I have to talk to him.”
“I am just a receptionist, sir. If Mr. Westlake happens to be in his office, I’d recommend talking to his assistant first. Hold one moment.”
“Ma—” the line began to ring again. What a bitch.
“This is Sharon, how may I help you?”
Thank God, she sounded a little friendlier.
“Hello, Sharon, I need to speak to Mr. Westlake. It is extremely urgent.”
“Hold one moment,” she said shortly.
The hold music reminded me of riding in an elevator. I heard the line snap back on.
“In what regards is this call?” she asked curiously. “And if you don’t mind, may I ask who is calling?”
In what regards is this call? I took a deep breath and let it out.
“It has to do with Black Monday, with Owen, with everything. My name is Lucas Bolden and I am an agent with the CIA.”
I heard her faint gasp in my ear.
“I’ll transfer you now,” she said in a shaky voice.
Ring…
“Ian Westlake,” a stern, familiar voice picked up.
“Hello, Mr. Westlake…I—uh, I know this is going to sound bizarre, but I needed to speak with you right away. One of your journalists interviewed me when I got back from my tours in the Middle East, and I met you that day. I saved one of my fellow soldiers, a wounded brother, and that’s why you guys did the story. Do you happen to remember me?”
There were a pause and a crackling in the background.
“Yes, actually. They gave you a medal, correct?”
“Yes, they did, Mr. Westlake.”
“You can call me Ian,” he corrected. “So, agent Bolden. What is it that you have to tell me? Don’t worry. This is on a secure line. I just hope no one is listening on your end.”
“No,” I assured him. “I am at a hotel using a pre-paid phone. I am actually sitting in front of a fax machine, and I need your direct fax number. I have to send you some documents.”
For a moment, I thought he had hung up.
“Ian? Are you there?”
“Yes, I’m here. Are these documents what I think they are?”
“Indeed, they are, and I’m sorry to throw this on you all of a sudden, but I had nowhere else to turn. My sector of the government is an absolute nightmare. This country is turning to shit before my own eyes. So please, when the time comes, use what I am about to send you for the right reasons. There are very good people involved that are depending on me not to let them down.”
“I understand. Don’t be sorry, Lucas. It is a miracle you called me. You just made me the happiest I have been in my entire career.”
I couldn’t help but smile.
“Oh,” I chuckled. “If you think you are ha
ppy now, just wait until you see what is about to come through your fax. What is the number?”
My breathing began to steady. My work had paid off. My mind darted in a hundred different directions, imagining what would take place over the next few days. I wished with every cell in my body that Veronica’s plan would come to a screeching halt. I had fought for this country once, and I would continue fighting for it in whatever manner I was able to. That was the oath I swore to uphold, and my rebellion was needed at a time like this. Maybe one day, kids would read in the history books about the people who helped dismantle this house of cards, built from the lies of the wicked.
Grey and Briana had taken the rental car, and apparently they were going to crack the wireless of CNN. He told us he would bring back some dinner. That was over two hours ago. Our room was just the standard. It had two queen beds. It was a closet compared to the penthouse suite we were in the night before last, but it was no less comfy. It was well decorated. Rachel was flipping through the channels for the hundredth time. She stopped for a moment on one of the local news stations.
“…Authorities warn that Viktor Ivankov may be in Downtown Atlanta. Analysts say the graffiti on the billboard is similar to his first message. Please call the police if you have any information…” Rachel changed the channel.
“I wonder what he is doing here,” she said.
“Who knows,” I responded. “I just hope he doesn’t interfere with tomorrow.”
Her lips pressed into a hard line, and her cheek muscles flexed. She was clenching her jaw and didn’t even respond. I knew why, but nothing needed to be said. She had already expressed her disapproval of Grey’s plan.
My stomach growled violently. It was pushing eleven o’clock, and I was starving. I knew we weren’t supposed to go anywhere. It would be risky and plain dumb, but something inside me was pushing me to go. Perhaps, it was my primal instinct of wanting a meal, or wanting to rebel against the fact I was trapped everywhere I went. Hostage to my infamy.
“Let’s go get some street food,” I said.
Rachel cocked her head towards me.
“You’re joking, right?”
“No, I’m not. Put your hair up, get your hat on, and change clothes. Let’s go eat.”
The Gambit Page 35
