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“I want you to take care of it, Harkes, that’s all. Using whatever means you choose.”
“And who do you want standing at the end?” he asked.
Foster looked surprised. “I’m not sure I want any of them standing at the end. Why would I?”
“Again, I just like to be as explicit as possible in situations like this.”
She drew closer to him and leaned in. “Then here are your explicit instructions, Harkes. Edgar Roy, dead. Peter Bunting, dead. Kelly Paul, dead. Michelle Maxwell, dead. Sean King, dead. Is that precise enough for you?”
“Yes.”
She straightened and looked at Quantrell. “If that’s all, Mason, I’d like a private moment with Harkes. We have some unfinished business on an unrelated matter.”
After Quantrell left, Foster perched on the edge of the table next to Harkes.
“The other night did not please me. Your behavior was beyond ridiculous.”
“I can tell you believe that,” he said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I could say that your behavior was actually the ridiculous one, but I doubt it would make an impression on you.”
“I’m not used to rejection at any level.”
“I can tell that too.”
“I can make your life a living hell.”
“Yes you can.”
“And on the other hand I can make it the exact opposite of a living hell.”
“I’m not a whore, Madame Secretary.”
“You are what I want you to be,” she corrected him. “So how do you want this to play out?”
“I have a mission. I will carry it out.”
“And after that?”
“After what?”
She slid one long nail across his hand. “I want you, Harkes. And I get what I want. It’s just that simple.”
He looked up at her. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“You could have an ambassador. A senator. A rich Wall Street asshole. Anybody, really. So why me? What am I to you?”
“I’ve had all those types. It’s like ice cream. Now I crave something different.”
She leaned in closer. “So when this is over you will continue to work for me in any way I choose. Is that understood?”
“Understood.”
She ran a hand along his cheek. “Wonderful. Now go do what needs to be done.”
