by Ivy Nelson
“If he’s guilty, then fuck yes we do Tom. Why wouldn’t we? We’re journalists.”
Tom closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he was in complete boss mode. “You have permission to look into the tip. However, you do not type a single word of a story until you have the green light from me.”
Carrie was nodding. “That’s perfectly fine with me. Thank you, Tom.”
“And for God’s sake, go change your clothes,” he said effectively dismissing her from his office.
Carrie saluted and backed out of the room.
The building had a gym with showers, and she kept a bag of workout clothes at her desk. It wasn’t something she’d ever actually used, but yoga pants and a tank top were probably better than the strappy glitter contraption she was currently wearing underneath her sweater.
Since she couldn’t go home and take a nap, she opted for a long shower in the gym locker room. It felt nice to let the hot water cascade over her body and wash away the stench of sweat and alcohol from the night before.
After towel drying her hair, she quickly dressed in her slightly more appropriate for the office attire and walked out of the gym. She needed to churn out a rough draft of the human interest piece on the strippers first to keep Tom happy, then she would go home and take a nap before heading back out to the strip club to see what she could see and hopefully prompt the delivery of a second package from whoever RIP was.
Forty-five minutes later, she e-mailed her rough draft to Tom. Then she went to a store at the corner for a case of energy drinks, one of which she chugged on her way back into the building. Tom was still locked in his office, so she popped the tab on a second can and pulled up Corbit Upwood’s bio.
Tom was right, the man had been in Washington for years and had made some powerful friends.
Her desk phone rang as she was reading about how he wound up as director of the CIA.
“Carrie Davenport,” she answered.
“My office.” It was Tom, and he sounded tense.
“On my way, boss.”
Carrie punched the phone back into the cradle and picked up the now half-empty can of Red Bull. When she reached Tom’s door she knocked rapidly, bouncing on her tip toes as she waited for him to beckon her inside.
The door opened and Tom watched her bounce with amusement on his face.
“How many of those have you had today?”
“This is only my second. I’m doing good,” Carrie said as she took another drink.
Tom shook his head. “You’re going to die young; you know that?”
Carrie just grinned. “What did you want to see me about boss?”
“I did some more thinking, and I just wanted to let you know you have my blessing for digging into Upwood and printing whatever you find.” Carrie rocked back and forth on the couch as Tom spoke.
When he paused, she said, “I have a feeling you have a but coming.”
“Your feelings would be correct. Do not make waves unless you are abso-fucking-lutely certain of your facts. If you’re going after Corbit Upwood, this is going to be the best damn researched piece you’ve ever done.”
Carrie was nodding furiously as Tom spoke.
“You are to report all of your findings directly to me. Don’t talk to fact-checkers, don’t talk to string reporters, and for God’s sake, don’t talk to Gina Whitman. I know you two are still close.”
Carrie made a zipping motion across her lips. “Mums the word, Tom. I swear I’ll be careful.”
“Good to hear. You have two hours to prep for a luncheon the director is hosting. They gave us a press pass months ago for some interagency unity luncheon they’re having. I was going to send a greenhorn, but it’s yours if you want it.”
Carrie pressed a hand to her heart and gasped. “What? You mean I don’t have to go undercover as a server or a stripper?”
“Why would there be strippers at a government luncheon?” Tom asked.
“Hey, I’m just saying, there were a lot of government officials in that club last night. Why not bring them to lunch too?”
Tom shook his head. “Just go be a normal reporter for once. And you’ll want to change again.”
“Aww. What’s wrong with my yoga pants? I hear Jack in sports thinks they make my ass look hot.”
Tom grimaced. “Jesus Carrie. I don’t need to hear things like that. Then I have to schedule another sexual harassment seminar.”
Carrie laughed and picked up her Red Bull. “I’m gone boss. I’ve got just enough time to go home and grab a suit.”
“Why do you keep workout clothes here but not a suit? I’ve literally never seen you use the gym.”
“It’s the thought that counts.”
Tom waved his hand. “Get out of here.”
Carrie stopped at her desk to grab her energy drinks and the manila envelope before making her way to the nearest subway station to head home and change. She definitely wasn’t getting her nap anytime soon.
Chapter Two
“We’re on site at CIA Director, Corbit Upwood’s house, where officials say someone delivered a bomb at roughly seven this morning. Upwood’s wife and son were home with the director who was preparing to leave for work.”
Peter Mercer turned the volume down on his car radio as he pulled into the parking structure for Secret Service headquarters. Part of him was sad the bomber hadn’t been successful. He cursed himself for the terrible thought. Just because he didn’t deserve to be director of the CIA or because their working relationship had gone south, didn’t mean he deserved to be blown up.
Flashing his badge at the parking lot attendant, he nodded and told the man to have a good day before finding a place to park. His cell phone rang as he stepped out of his SUV.
“Mercer.”
“Agent Mercer, it’s Director Higgins. Have you arrived on site yet?”
“Good morning sir, I just stepped out of my car. What can I do for you?” Peter tucked his phone between his shoulder and ear and used his now free hand to press the elevator up button.
“Come straight to my office. I want to discuss Baltimore.” Peter grinned. Hopefully that meant he was getting the promotion he wanted.
“Yes, Sir. I’ll be up in five minutes or less.”
“Good man. I’ll have coffee waiting for you.” The director hung up without saying goodbye. Peter looked down at the cup already in his hand and downed the last of it as the elevator doors opened. On a normal day, he limited himself to one cup of coffee, but he would drink the director’s coffee and hopefully be celebrating a promotion soon.
Two minutes later, he was standing in the director’s outer office making small talk with a receptionist.
Director Higgins opened his door and motioned him inside.
“Agent Mercer, thanks for coming in. Have a seat. Coffee should be hot,” he said motioning to the cup sitting on the visitor’s side of his desk.
Peter nodded his appreciation and sat down.
“I’m just going to get straight to it. We decided to give Lathen the Baltimore office.”
Peter felt his heart sink. Being named Special Agent in Charge at the Baltimore field office was something he’d been working toward for months. He took a long swallow of coffee trying to give himself a moment to process the bad news. It was a major setback to his dream of being named Secret Service director one day, but it wasn’t the end of his career.
“I know you’re disappointed son, but Lathen has been with us a few years longer. You’ll get your shot.”
Peter nodded. “Yes, Sir. I just appreciate the opportunity to apply for the job in the first place.”
Director Higgins reached for a folder. “It’s not much of a consolation prize, but we’ve got two new protection details to put together and I want you to lead one of them. You’re a great agent, you deserve to be in charge of a team. I can’t give you a field office yet, but I can let you run a detail.”
“Yes, Sir. It would be an honor. Who are we protecting?” Pe
ter leaned closer to the desk to catch a glimpse of the open folder.
“Your choice. I’ve got a senator who’s making some waves and needs temporary protection, and just this morning, the president ordered a detail for CIA Director Corbit Upwood.”
At the mention of Upwood, Peter’s eyebrow rose. He hadn’t expected action that fast. Upwood probably wasn’t happy about the Secret Service guarding him. He would prefer a black ops group or a private security firm.
“Frankly, Senator Arnold is likely the easier of the two as far as schedules go. He doesn’t tend to travel much. But the choice is yours. I’ll give whichever one you don’t choose to someone else.” Higgins slid the folders his direction.
It wasn’t a hard choice for Peter, but he took another sip of coffee before speaking again.
“If it’s up to me, I’ll gladly take Director Upwood. I’ve got a bit of a rapport with him and I have a feeling he’ll resist a detail. Maybe a familiar face will make that go a little smoother.” Peter honestly didn’t know how much goodwill he had with Corbit Upwood these days, but he wasn’t going to let his boss know that.
Higgins was standing. “OK, I’ll get you a roster of agents to pull from. You’re right about him resisting so good call there. I’ve already fielded three calls from his office, including one from the man himself. He’s definitely not happy.”
Peter chuckled. That sounded like Upwood.
“Are agents with him now?” he asked. “I’d like to speak to them if so.”
“I’ll connect you with them.”
Peter nodded. “I’ll head to my desk now then.”
When Higgins dismissed him, he checked in with the two agents that had been dispatched as soon as the executive order came down.
He instructed both men to keep him in the loop and asked if Mrs. Upwood and their son had a separate detail.
“Yes, Sir. They’re in a safe house too.”
As he finished the call with the agent, Director Higgins called him again.
“Agent Mercer let’s take a ride. Upwood is throwing such a fit, I want to deliver you to him in person.”
Peter stood and switched off his monitor. “Yes, Sir. I just pulled the agents I want on this detail and sent notifications.”
“Great. Sounds like you’re on top of your game. Let’s go. Car is waiting downstairs.”
Thirty minutes later, they were through security and in an office in the West Wing waiting for the CIA director. The president summoned him to the White House to make sure he accepted the detail he was being assigned.
The doorway to the empty office flew open and Corbit Upwood filled the doorway. Not only was he wide enough to span the entry, he was tall enough that there wasn’t much space between his head and the top of the door frame.
His silver hair had been dark when Peter worked for him, but he had aged well overall.
“Higgins, you better tell your man to stay the hell out of my way,” he barked as the door slammed shut again.
“Director Upwood, it’s good to see you again. We still need to get that round of golf in sometime.”
Peter nearly smirked watching his boss handle Upwood.
“Save it Higgins. I’m not happy about this and I’m only accepting it until I can get private security approved with POTUS.”
Peter stepped forward then. Upwood likely remembered him given their past but he introduced himself anyway.
“Director Upwood. I’m Special Agent Peter Mercer and I’ll be in charge of your detail.”
Upwood looked at him, his eyes scanning up and down.
“Mercer. You look familiar. Ever work for the CIA?”
Peter thought about making the old, if I told you I’d have to kill you joke but his boss was still in the room, so he refrained. Instead he just nodded and said, “Yes, Sir. We worked together in Afghanistan while you were station chief there.”
“Ah yes, I remember. Good to see you again son. Didn’t know you had made the jump to Secret Service.” His voice was friendly enough, but Peter saw in his eyes that Upwood didn’t actually think it was good to see him.
Peter just nodded and Higgins took over again.
“I’m going back to headquarters. I’ll let you two get reacquainted. Mercer is one of our best, Corbit. Let him do his job.”
Director Upwood just grunted as Higgins stepped out. Now Peter was alone with Corbit Upwood for the first time in years.
“If you don’t mind Sir, I’d like to go over protocols.”
As if he didn’t hear him, Upwood said, “I have to leave again in just a minute. I’ve got a quick meeting with the Vice President while I’m here. How’s your old man doing?”
“Now isn’t the time to talk about that Sir. We really need to brief you on protocol.”
Upwood waived his hand, “Bah, those two yahoos you sent over to my house this morning already went over protocol and I’m not having it. The protocol is you and your men stay out of my way and focus on keeping my wife and son safe. I want the bare minimum in protection on me.”
Peter raised himself to his full height and put his hands behind his back. “I’m afraid that’s not an option Sir. You’ve had someone successfully deliver two bombs. We don’t want a third success. Your wife and son will have their own details. I’m focused on you.”
Corbit grumbled and paced the room. “I have a meeting. We’ll address protocol later.”
“We’ll get you to your meeting, Director. I just need some information first.”
Corbit finally stopped pacing and sat in a chair.
“Thank you, Sir. Can you tell me anything about these threats?”
Peter’s new protectee scowled up at him. “I’ve already told the FBI everything. Just get a copy of their report.”
Peter leaned against the desk in front of Director Upwood. “I would rather hear it from you.”
Instead of answering his question, the older gentleman leaned back in his chair and placed his hands on his head. “Why don’t you tell me why you really left Afghanistan?”
Peter sighed. He should have known Corbit would bring it up.
“That’s a conversation for another time.”
Really, it wasn’t a conversation Peter ever wanted to have. He had chosen this assignment hoping to further his career by impressing his boss, but he wasn’t thrilled about the idea of working closely with Corbit Upwood again. The man was good at his job, but he was a jackass and Peter knew things about him that he wished he didn’t. Not to mention the man was power hungry and a control freak. There were people that would say that about Peter too—it could be said about most people in D.C.
They had worked well together in Afghanistan until he’d caught Corbit in a compromising situation with a female soldier stationed there. Peter honestly didn’t care who Corbit wanted to sleep with, but he got the feeling the soldier wasn’t exactly an enthusiastic partner.
Peter tried to forget what he’d seen as he looked at the man sitting in front of him. “Listen, I know we have a working relationship from the past, but I need to be very clear about one thing. I am in charge of your protection and I take this assignment very seriously. I am under orders from the President of the United States to give you full protection and we are going to follow all protocols. Do I make myself clear?”
The director stood toe to toe with Peter, a sneer on his face. “And what are you going to do if I don’t?”
Peter never blinked although his heart was pounding loudly in his ears. “I have the authority to put you in protective custody if you refuse to cooperate.”
Corbit threw his head back and laughed. “I’m the director of the CIA. You really think you can take me into custody?”
Peter folded his arms. “I know I can, Sir.”
“This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I can hire a private firm that will do what I want them to do.”
Peter’s head was shaking as the director spoke. “Not unless you have the juice to overturn an executive order. You’re
welcome to hire additional security but my authority will always trump a private security firm. I don’t care how much you’re paying them.”
Corbit was at the door.
“I’m leaving. Your goons outside the door gonna follow me?”
“Yes, Sir. That’s their job.”
As he opened the door, Corbit turned to face Peter one more time and said, “Enjoy being in charge while you can, son. If you would do things my way, I’d have you running a field office in no time. But if you won’t, I’ll make your life a living hell and you’ll be out of a job before the month is out.”
Peter shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged.
“I wouldn’t recommend threatening me, Sir. It didn’t work in Afghanistan. I don’t know why you think it’s going to work now.”
While Peter waited for Director Upwood to finish his meeting with the Vice President, he took the time to review his roster of agents. Some he had worked with before on other protection details or during his stint in the investigations division of the Secret Service. Others were new to him.
Two of the agents were waiting outside of the vice president’s office so he introduced himself.
“Agents Savko and Lubert, I’m Special Agent Peter Mercer.”
He shook Savko’s hand just as the door opened and Director Upwood came into the hallway.
“Let’s go gentlemen. I have a luncheon to get to back at CIA headquarters.”
“Savko, you drive. Agent Lubert, take shotgun. I’ll be in the back with the director.”
It wasn’t typical for the agent in charge of a detail to be present for all transports, but he wanted to take the time to get familiar with Director Upwood’s typical schedule, so he climbed into the backseat after Upwood was in.
As the SUV pulled into traffic, he asked, “How much travel do you have on the docket for the next six weeks?”
His earlier discussion with the director seemed to have stuck because he didn’t resist his questions. “Nothing is on the schedule now but that can change at a moment’s notice. You know how the agency is.”
Peter nodded. “My team will be on a thirty days on, thirty days off rotation. You’ll have two teams of agents covering you in twelve-hour shifts.”
