“Your girlfriend—she’s all over the news today.”
“Say again?”
“Rowan,Nat—Rowan Anderson.The French newspapers have made her a hero.” She pulled up the websites ofLe Monde, La Croix,andLe Figaro.All of them showed images of Rowan’s government ID photo beneath bold headlines I couldn’t read.
“Check it out,” Meg invited me.
Where the fuck had this come from—and why now?Meg was fluent in French, so she translated as I tried to catch up. I hadn’t put two and two together that Senator Harrison’s widow, Elise Courville, was the daughter of the French ambassador—likely the reason the French papers ran some completely bullshit and totally inaccurate variation ofSecret Service Agent Rescues Ambassador’s Daughter. The French president praised the United States and our dedicated professionals for keeping Courville safe from terrorists. His sympathies for her husband, the late Senator Coleman Harrison, were of course extended as well.
The glowing coverage was such an unexpected turn of events that I didn’t know how to feel. Clearly, I recognized this as a positive development for Rowan. And I was relieved that not one of the news reports mentioned CSTC or any of us.
“Are you going to call her?”
“I’ve tried a dozen times since we got back. She doesn’t answer—won’t return calls or messages. I can take a hint.”
Meg laughed. “Nat, if I didn’t know you better, I’d say your feelings are hurt.”
“That was a weak showing, wasn’t it?” I asked.
“You don’t have to listen to me, but if you want my two pennies, I’d bet that after this breaking news, she might answer her phone. Just a hunch.” She gave me a half smile as I stared dumbly, then mouthed,Trust me—call her.
CHAPTER 73
CSTC Headquarters
I’d rehearsed the entire conversation in my mind a hundred times. I thought I had it down pat, but as soon as Rowan Anderson answered her phone, my mind went totally blank.
Mercifully, Rowan picked up the slack. “Hey, Nat—thank you so, so much for calling. I’m so sorry for not speaking with you earlier. I just couldn’t bring myself to answer. You’re such a sweetheart for leaving those messages. I loved hearing every one of them. You’re the best.”
It was nice hearing Rowan Anderson say those words. She had the best phone voice. Things were looking up indeed.
I stammered through aYou’re welcomeand made some inane comments about the weather—and, of course, asked her how things were going. Realizing I sounded like a jackass, I apologized like a madman.
“It’s okay, Nat, seriously. Don’t worry about me. It’s all going to be alright. I promise. I want to see you again—soon.”
Rowan was so positive and enthusiastic, it was almost like nothing bad had happened. Which confused me. As much as I liked her, I’d expected her to need some heavy-duty cheerleading—hell, probably some serious therapy. After all, her principal—the former senator and presidential candidate—had been killed, and killed painfully, on her watch.
“Good deal,” I finally managed to say. “It sounds like you’re in a good place, and I’m so glad to hear it. I saw your picture in every one of this morning’s French newspapers. I can’t lie, totally caught me off guard. Wow.”
“You read French newspapers?” she asked with a hint of bemusement.
Shit, how to explain this one?
“Je parle un peu,” I laughed. “I like to practice my reading comprehension when I get the chance. Today was a slow day.”
“Well, that’s good to know, because in the extraordinarily fantastic news department, I am now officially reassigned to the French embassy as Chief Security Liaison Officer for the Secret Service. I think it’s a made-up position, but hey—I’m not about to complain. After all that shit that went down, at least they aren’t going to fire me. Notyet,anyway. So feel free to drop by for a visit and show off your mad language skills.” She laughed.
Unbeknownst to her, Rowan explained, Elise Courville’s dad had pulled some behind-the-scenes strings. Ambassador Charles Courville, a well-connected power broker, had gently persuaded the administration not to punish Rowan, but instead to promote his prominent daughter’s protector. Apparently he had made a very compelling argument.
The message to the secretary of state was crystal clear: The French government was calling in a marker from its dear friendand ally. Denial of this favor would have long-lasting repercussions within the diplomatic community.Gentle like a sledgehammer,I supposed.
“That’s pretty fucking amazing, Rowan. You should buy a lottery ticket.”
So that was how Rowan Anderson went from zero to hero overnight. I knew shit like this happened all the time in DC, but not usually at this warp speed. It was a clever move to drop the news articles before the announcement, too. Bodies hit the floor and heads exploded at Homeland Security headquarters when that bomb dropped. A little leverage with a side of humble pie for dessert.
She was on her way to the office to reclaim her credentials and her gun, Rowan told me, but she promised to stay in touch. She and Elise Courville were heading out of town on some embassy business, but we would get together soon to celebrate.
“No worries, Ro,” I said. “I’m heading south for a few days. Are you free later this week?”
