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“You know I can’t.”
“But you can help me by telling me there’s nothing there, right? That’s not like confirming something I’m working on. For old time’s sake.”
Liam sits still, not wanting to hear his ex-wife trying to work him.
Kay says, “What you mentioned, about all enemies, foreign and domestic. I’m hearing bits and pieces that your boss might be expanding your Agency’s reach, including the domestic part of the world. You can imagine the firestorm if that were to happen.”
Liam says, “You really think that a science nerd like Acting Director Milton Fenway would even think of doing something like that?”
Kay laughs. “What makes you think I’m talking about him? No, I’m talking about our second bachelor president, former spook and ‘Dark Knight.’ The honorable President Keegan Barrett. We’rehearing bits of information that he’s using his old contacts in Langley and at the Pentagon to set up his own back-channel network to go after those on his enemies list.”
There are no real secrets in DC,Liam thinks,no matter what the dwellers haunting the internet and their moms’ basements want to think,but he’s stunned—and a bit sickened—to think President Barrett’s efforts have already leaked out.
What to do?
Deny and lie?
Try to dodge around it?
Convince Kay to leave it alone?
He gets up, squeezes her hand.
“Sorry, Kay, I’m late. Good to see you.”
He strides out through the crowded bar, not hearing if she is saying anything, but knowing he’s just done the right thing.
As much as they unsettle him, questions now echo in his mind:
Who’s the leaker?
And why?
CHAPTER 28
WASHINGTON, DC
NOA HIMEL IS slightly buzzed from her fourth glass of white wine, on top of a homemade meal of pasta and garlic bread, and she’s stretched out on a small settee in the condo unit of one of her best friends, just relaxing and trying to unwind.
Sitting across from her is Gina Stasio, whom she met when they both started in a training group after their initial hire at the Agency. Gina is short, dark-haired, plump, a wonderful cook, and an incredibly talented member of the Office of Technical Services, the creator and curator of spy gear that’s used in the field, all the way from disguises to hidden cameras to encrypted radio systems.
Gina says, “Top you off?”
“In a bit,” Noa says. “That means I have to move, and sorry to say, Gina, your comfortable couch here has seized my ass.”
Gina laughs. “I can bring the wine to you, girl. And the couch unfolds, so if you want to spend the night, feel free to do so.”
The living room is snug and cozy, with low bookcases and two oil paintings of Chesapeake Bay up on the wall, both done by Gina. The television is set to Netflix, some edgy new miniseries about a woman detective in Seattle.
“I might take you up on it,” Noa says. “You hear any fresh news about the veep?”
Gina says, “Caught an update when I was cleaning up in the kitchen. Stable and safe condition at Walter Reed, still unresponsive. Poor woman.”
To her surprise Noa says, “Maybe she’s ashamed of being a part of the Barrett administration.”
Her friend laughs. “Noa, where the hell did that come from? You speaking out of school now?”
Watch it,she thinks. Too many careers at the Agency have sunk in the amber waves of booze, even when consumed in the presence of friends.
