“It’s okay,” Paul replied.
Otto smiled at Jolene and said, “I would be the local account manager of a group of small businesses, legitimate businesses, who set them up to accept crypto-currencies.”
FIFTY-SEVEN
FRIDAY EVENING;
WASHINGTON, D.C.
“THE JURY CAME BACK WITH those convictions pretty fast,” Brett said, taking Samantha’s blazer and hanging it in his hall closet.
“Sure, but was there ever any doubt?” she asked.
“Not in my mind. After all these weeks of preparing for the trial, it all panned out. We should celebrate.”
“Absolutely,” Samantha said. “What can I do to help?”
“You’ve cooked for me so many times, I thought it was only right that I feed you this time.”
“I appreciate that. Besides, I’m glad I get to see your apartment. It’s nice. You’re kind of a neat freak, aren’t you?” she said, glancing around at the sleek furniture layout.
“I guess. But it’s difficult to mess up when I’m the only one living here. One of these days, I’ll probably buy my own place and finally get all my things out of storage. This one came furnished, so I don’t have much that’s personal in here.” He waved his arm toward an empty bookshelf and said, “I’ve often said it looks like something out of our witness protection program.”
“That reminds me. There’s something I want to tell you after dinner.”
“Okay. Until then, come into the kitchen, and let’s get you a drink.”
“Let’s get us a drink, you mean.”
“Yes, since I’m finally off duty, I think I’ll start with a beer. But I also have wine. I picked up a couple of different kinds. They’re over there.”
She examined the half dozen bottles in a wine rack in the corner and pulled one out. “How about this?” she asked, handing him a Clos du Bois pinot noir.
“Good choice. Not very expensive, but I remembered you like it.” He took out his wine opener, removed the cork, and poured her a glass. He grabbed a beer from the fridge, opened it, and held it up. “Cheers,” he said, touching her wine glass with his bottle.
“I think we can expand on that a little,” she said. “How about a toast?”
“Let’s see.” He thought for a moment and then started to laugh. “So, there’s this guy who works in my office. He’s big on boats, and he said that someone came up with a great toast when they had the bicentennial and brought all those tall ships to New York.”
“Do you remember it?” she asked, sampling her wine.
“I think it goes like this: here’s to the tall ships and fair ladies of our land. May the first be well-rigged and the latter well-manned.” He raised his bottle in a salute.
Samantha laughed and said, “I guess I can drink to that one. Now then, what can I do to help with dinner?”
Brett opened the refrigerator again and took out a package of lamb chops, a jar of mint jelly, a handful of broccoli, and a cantaloupe. “This melon is pretty ripe, so maybe you could cut it up for a salad? I’ll start the broiler for the chops. We can cook the broccoli in one of those little pans in that drawer under the stove. Nothing fancy. Is that all right?”
“More than all right,” she said, getting to work.
When everything was ready, they took their plates into the dining area and set them down on a table there. Brett took another glass out of a cabinet, refilled Samantha’s, and then poured some of the red wine for himself. “Now that the trial’s wrapped up and the Russians have been found guilty on all charges, I have to say that it’s a bit odd Moscow stayed so quiet throughout the whole ordeal. They haven’t asked us to send them back. That should help Otto get a better foothold here. It’ll be interesting to see how he makes out with his new identity.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. He sent me a letter,” she said, reaching for the mint jelly.
“Really? What did he say?”
“It was a handwritten apology for all the trouble he caused me. It was quite heartfelt,” Samantha said, cutting a piece of lamb.
“After everything he put you through, he should have sent you the world’s biggest gift basket or at least flowers.” That reminded Brett of the last time he saw Samantha receive flowers. “Remember that night I was at your house for dinner? We were standing in your kitchen when you got that flower delivery.”
“Yes. What about it?”
“It was from Tripp. The guy you used to date.”
“Yes. I showed you the card. He said he was glad I was safe. It was a nice gesture,” she said.
“I remember the card. He signed it with ‘Love.’ ” Brett said, studying her face. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, is he still in love with you? Or maybe my question should be are you still in love with him?”
Samantha looked at him, paused for moment, and replied, “First, it’s okay to ask me about him. And no, I don’t believe he’s in love with me. He moved away, hasn’t come back to see me, hasn’t invited me to Dallas, and has only been in touch sporadically. I wouldn’t say that’s a man in love, would you?”
“Doesn’t sound like it. But that doesn’t mean you don’t still love him,” Brett ventured. “Not that it’s any of my business.”
“I’m not in love with him. I guess I still care about him as a friend. He’s a good person, and we did a lot together. I told you about some of it,” she said.
“Yes, you did. And since you were so involved for such a long time, I just wondered if it might mean you’d get back together at some point.”
She took another sip of wine, sat back, and studied him. “I’ve thought about it. But the more I’ve analyzed it, the louder my dad’s voice gets in my head. He used to say that I shouldn’t just pay attention to what people say, I should watch what they do. Tripp said a lot of things, but he did other things.
“And we were both busy,” she went on. “We both had tough jobs. Mine kept me up at night, and his kept him on the road most of the time. And he always seemed as happy to be traveling as he was in his Arlington apartment.”
“And that didn’t sit well with you? You didn’t like him being away so much?” Brett asked.
“It wasn’t exactly that,” she said. “It was more of an attitude about living here. This may sound strange, but Tripp was a man of the world. I’m just a home-town type. I love it here. Traveling is fine, but I love this country. I want to stay here. I love working here. I love the White House, though I realize I’ll probably only work there for the current administration. With Tripp and me, I’m not sure I ever trusted that we were on the same page. Does that make any sense?”
Brett stared at her and said, “It does. I feel the same way about being here, working here, the country, all of it. Besides, traveling is such a hassle these days.” He glanced down at their nearly empty plates. “Let’s get some dessert.”
He got up from the table and took both of their plates to the kitchen. Samantha grabbed their wine glasses and followed him.
“Would you like coffee? I also have some ice cream.” He opened the freezer and peered inside. “All I’ve got is chocolate, though.”
“Perfect. Just one more thing we have in common,” she said with a warm smile.
“Speaking of having things in common, have you thought about what the FBI Director said to us after that ceremony in the Oval Office?”
“Yes. It sounded like he might want us to work together again.”
“I agree,” Brett said, opening the ice cream carton and scooping its contents into bowls. He handed her one along with a spoon. “I wonder what he has in mind. I’ve been so slammed with this trial, I haven’t had time to delve into much else. At least Trevor hasn’t said anything about a new case. Have you heard about any new threats recently?”
She tasted a spoonful of ice cream. “Mmm. This is my favorite. Thanks. We get notices about new threats from the agencies all the time. But besides the usual things we’ve been tracking, nothing big and actio
nable has cropped up. We haven’t elevated anything recently. Guess we’ll just have to wait to hear from the Director.”
Brett and Samantha were both leaning against the kitchen counter when he caught the intoxicating scent of her hair again. He turned toward her. She was looking up at him with what seemed like anticipation. Was that another invitation? If it was, he wasn’t about to miss it this time.
He took the dish out of her hand, put it aside, pulled her toward him, and lowered his head. The kiss was gentle at first. When she opened to him, he deepened it and held her close. She wound her arms around his neck as he pressed his body against hers. He heard a slight moan as he cradled her head and ran his tongue over her lips.
“I’ve been waiting to do this for a long time,” he whispered.
“Me too,” she answered. “It took you a while.”
He leaned back just a bit, glanced down at her, and said, “I was just trying to read the signals.”
“Maybe I wasn’t sending them on the right frequency,” she murmured with a smile. “Trust me, from now on, I’ll be sending them loud and clear.”
There was the word “trust” again. As he kissed her once more and felt her warm response, he knew he could trust Samantha Reid. And he wouldn’t have to verify that at all.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
THE INSPIRATION FOR THIS STORY came from several quarters. First was the phrase used by President Ronald Reagan when he referred to agreements with the Soviet Union. He said we must Trust but Verify. And when I wanted to write about devious Russians plotting against our own interests, those words came to mind.
As for the locations in Jackson, Wyoming—we had a home there for many years and had visited all of those places. The names of restaurants, parks, and hotels are accurate with one exception. I did take one bit of “literary license” when I placed the restaurant where the attempted attack took place at the top of Rendezvous mountain, when it is actually on top of a nearby peak, accessed by a different set of smaller gondolas.
The dialogue between Samantha Reid and her friend, Angela Marconi included many references to groups and organizations who tried to secure meetings with our government. All are true (crazy as they might sound). In writing a thriller, I do like to take a break from the action to insert a bit of humor every once in a while.
Finally, I’d like to thank John Kubricky, former Pentagon official, for information on newly developed listening devices and bomb pre-emptors and I want to thank Jim Chiate and Gordon Dale for their advice on the best ways to “short” the markets, along with schedule information from the staff of the Federal Reserve Bank of Kansas City, which hosts the annual meeting in Jackson Hole. Of course, I pray that this tale will not give anyone “ideas” about future conferences out in that beautiful section of our country. Besides, all of the official meetings take place at the quite secure Jackson Lake Lodge, not on top of a mountain in Teton Village. (At least they do now, and I trust they will keep it that way).
Now, I hope you enjoyed reading about the adventures of Samantha Reid and Brett Keating as I look forward to the publication of their next challenge in the months to come.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
AUTHOR PHOTO BY DIDI CUTLER
KARNA BODMAN served as White House deputy press secretary and then senior director of the National Security Council under President Ronald Reagan. By the end of her tenure, Karna was the highest-ranking woman on the White House staff. She was the senior vice president of a public affairs firm before pursuing her career as a novelist. For more information, visit www.KarnaBodman.com.
LIKE REGNERY FICTION ON FACEBOOK
FOLLOW US ON TWITTER
Copyright © 2018 by Karna Small Bodman
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, website, or broadcast.
Regnery Fiction™ is a trademark of Salem Communications Holding Corporation; Regnery® is a registered trademark of Salem Communications Holding Corporation
Cataloging-in-Publication data on file with the Library of Congress
Cover design by John Caruso
ISBN 978-1-62157-779-9
e-book ISBN 978-1-62157-854-3
Published in the United States by
Regnery Fiction, an imprint of
Regnery Publishing
A Division of Salem Media Group
300 New Jersey Ave NW
Washington, DC 20001
www.RegneryFiction.com
Books are available in quantity for promotional or premium use. For information on discounts and terms, please visit our website: www.Regnery.com.
Trust But Verify Page 27
