More waiting.
“Well,” he finally says, “I don’t see any way around it. As unfortunate as it might be for the speaker.”
“But you can do something, Director. This afternoon. Today.”
His eyes look troubled. “What is that?”
She says, “With your permission, Director, I can reach out to a friendly reporter at theNew York TimesWashington bureau. On deep background, no direct connection to the Bureau, we can have a story appear tomorrow that according to a reliable source, the initial investigation into Speaker Washington’s affairs show that fake documents are being used to smear her.”
There.
It’s out.
Dangling like a balloon between them.
He clears his throat. The balloon turns into a dirigible, then to theHindenberg,and everything bursts into flames.
“Not on your life,” he says.
“But Director—”
“No,” he says, voice more firm and resonant. “You know how many previous directors got into trouble for appearing to interfere in political investigations? Too many. And I’m not going to join thatlist. Not ever. My term of office is not going to include charges that my Bureau was politicized. We’re going to do this by the book, and that’s it. And to make it clear, you are forbidden to discuss this investigation with anyone not in the Bureau. Do I make myself clear?”
“Utterly,” she says, disgusted.
“Good,” he says. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have another appointment.”
“Thank you, Director,” she says, getting up and walking away.
Back in her office and restless, Edie thinks about making a call to a friend of hers, at the “other agency,” but holds off. What would that call accomplish, except for a chance for Edie to bitch at the unfairness of it all? Besides, her friend is no doubt busy with her own problems.
Edie picks up a copy of that day’sWashington Post,with yet another update on the continuing mystery of the vice president’s coma and condition over at Walter Reed.
There were days when she and others in this building thought Director Jablonski was in a walking coma, by the way he acted, and one thing that continues to puzzle her is why he’s still here. There were rumors some months ago, after President Keegan Barrett’s inauguration, that he would ask for the director’s resignation and put in one of his own to run the Bureau.
But no, President Barrett kept this bland and nearly lifeless cipher on board.
Why the hell would he do that?
CHAPTER 83
CIA DIRECTOR ABRAMS leads Liam and Noa into her office at the other side of her home. Liam feels like he’s in the audience of some play and has just been dragged out of the seats to come up onstage and start performing, with no idea of the story or script.
Her office is neat with built-in bookshelves and only a few framed photos on the walls, and two large windows overlooking a wide rear lawn. Liam has been in offices for military or intelligence leaders where the walls fairly groaned from holding up all the plaques, awards, and light boxes with challenge medals.
But not her office.
Liam likes the contrast to the other “look at me” offices he’s been in. Three chairs are near her desk with three phone systems on it. Her security officer Bruce is holding a handset out to Liam. The director picks up another handset to listen in.
Bruce steps back and Noa stands beside him.
It’s reassuring to have Noa next to him, he realizes.
He takes the handset. “This is Grey.”
“Hello,” says a woman’s voice. “How are you doing this morning, Liam? If I may call you Liam.”
“Who is this, and how did you find me?”