James Grippando - Born to Run

No, it wasn’t that she didn’t love him. It was just that, at the moment, her loyalties were being tested.

“Agent Henning here,” she said into the telephone.

The call was on an encrypted line, and it was just her and the Washington ASAC.

“Andie, what’s on your mind?”

Andie had never met ASAC Stan White before the Sunday morning meeting at FBI headquarters about Jack’s e-mail. It was White, however, who had authorized her to step in and lead Jack through his meeting with “the source” at the Smithsonian. An intense assignment of that nature had a way of bonding agents together quickly, especially when they liked each other. White was a good man, and Andie could have easily seen herself working for someone like him.

Andie said, “You understand my relationship with Jack Swyteck.”

“I do.”

“Then you also must understand how difficult this is.”

“Every agent has a personal life. In the end, it comes down to the fact that you swore an oath to the bureau.”

“That I did,” she said. It was framed and hanging on her office wall. The parts about allegiance and faithful discharge of duties seemed to be staring back at her.

“I have concerns about Jack’s father,” said Andie. “And not just because he’s pushing Jack aside.”

“It sounds like that’s part of it,” said White.

“Yes, but only because it’s a symptom of a larger problem.”

“All right. What kind of problem are we talking about?”

Andie debated how to say it, but directly seemed best. “Honestly, I smell a White House cover-up over the death of Phil Grayson. And I think Harry Swyteck is in it up to his eyeballs.”

White was silent.

“Sir?”

“I’m still here,” said White.

“The thing that makes me suspect Harry Swyteck’s involvement is that-”

“I know what you’re going to say.”

Andie paused, surprised by the interruption. “You do?”

“Yes. And I don’t disagree with you one bit. But…”

She waited, but again there was silence, as if the ASAC were mulling things over on the other end of the line.

“But what, sir?”

“If we’re going to travel down this road, there is something you need to understand about Harry Swyteck.”

She wasn’t sure how to read his tone of voice. It was beyond serious.

“All right,” she said. “I’m all ears.”

Jack kept his final promise to Paulette. He set up a meeting with Elizabeth Grayson that evening.

“I’m surprised you showed up,” he said.

They were seated in a semiprivate booth in Cabanas restaurant at Georgetown Harbour. Elizabeth had plans to meet a friend there for dinner at eight, so she agreed to meet Jack for a drink at seven thirty. Cabanas was a bustling place with Aztec art on the walls, Mexican tequila at the bar, and enough twentysomething-year-old singles going at each other to make Jack at forty feel older than dirt. Outdoor dining by the fountain was popular in summer, but in December people drank their mango margaritas indoors. Elizabeth insisted that Jack try one, and he did, just to be polite. It was a running joke, however, the way people outside Florida thought that Miamians craved anything Mexican. Without question, Miami had the Latin beat-Cuba, Brazil, Colombia, Argentina, and more-but trying to find a good Mexican restaurant in Miami was like trying to find good Japanese food in China.

Elizabeth smiled. “Why are you surprised? I said I would be here.”

“True. But you also promised to meet Paulette Sparks at Club SI last night.”

Her smile faded.

The waiter brought their margaritas-with salt for Jack, without for Elizabeth. She waited for the server to duck out beneath the long white draperies that shrouded their booth, then said, “How do you know about me and Paulette?”

“She called me late last night. We had a very interesting talk.”

“That’s such a meaningless word- interesting. The sinking of the Titanic was interesting. Sex is interesting. Even you’re kind of interesting.”

“This isn’t about me.”

She tasted her margarita. “No, you’re right. It’s about Paulette. Horrible news about her death. I feel terrible for her father. Losing two daughters in such a short period of time.”

“It’s even more tragic that Paulette died before she could really follow up on Chloe’s story about President Keyes.”

Elizabeth made a face. “I find it hard to believe that Chloe Sparks would have anything that a reporter of Paulette’s stature would follow up on.”

“That’s what Paulette wanted to meet with you about.”

“Me? What does any of this have to do with me?”

Jack put his margarita aside and leaned into the table, pressing his point. “Paulette had a theory. She thinks you got the same message I got. An anonymous e-mail from someone who claims to have the power to make your father president.”

The mariachi band started to play, but not even the sudden blast of trumpets could make Elizabeth flinch.

“You’re only about half right,” she said.

“Which half do I have wrong?”

“I did get an e-mail about President Keyes. Something similar to what you got. But it didn’t come straight from the source.”

“How did you get it?”

“It was delivered by an old friend.”

“Does this friend have a name?”

“Chloe Sparks.”

Jack checked his surprise. “Okay, let me break this down. First of all, you’re saying that Chloe Sparks was an ‘old friend’ of yours?”

“I should say former friend. I met all the White House interns assigned to my father. Most were ambitious ass-kissers, but Chloe was cool. I liked her. We started to hang out-dinners, movies, the clubs. We even came here a few times. Chloe liked to party. So do I.”

Things were starting to click for Jack. “Let me guess: You and Chloe were out partying the night before she got fired from her internship for drug possession.”

She tasted her drink again. “You add up two plus two pretty quickly.”

“You planted drugs on her.”

“That’s what you say.”

“That wasn’t a very nice thing to do to a friend.”

“Fucking my father wasn’t a very nice thing for my friend to do to me.”

Jack couldn’t argue with that, but this was not the time to cut her any slack. “Obviously there were some hard feelings there.”

“You think?” she said, scoffing.

“So how was it that, a year or so later, Chloe called to give you the message from her anonymous source about bringing down President Keyes?”

“That was out of the blue,” said Elizabeth.

“How do you mean?”

“Chloe and I didn’t speak after she got fired. At that point, she had probably figured out that I knew all about her and my father. I never told her that I had set her up, but I think she accepted the fact that she got what she deserved.”

“That brings me back to the same question: Why did she call you about the message she got from her source?”

“I can only guess. In her head, I honestly think she believed that this would make up for what she had done, that things would be good between us. She told me that she was working on a huge story, and that the information from her confidential source could put my father in the White House.”

“Did Chloe give you any specifics?”

“Just someone claiming to have the power to bring down President Keyes.”

Elizabeth looked past Jack and waved. He turned around and saw a young woman checking her coat at the entrance.

“That’s my friend,” said Elizabeth.

“One more question before she gets here,” said Jack.

“Better make it quick.”