Andrew Britton - The American

Andrews glanced at Harper, a perplexed expression moving over his face. “Because that’s what they do, Kealey. It’s part of the conflict for them. Killing as many people as possible, spreading fear, and creating terror are their primary goals-”

Ryan held up a hand to stop him. “Maybe so, sir. But think about this: what if Shakib did it, at least in part, because he couldn’t risk breaking under interrogation?”

Harper shot an inquiring look at Kealey, but Andrews didn’t notice. “You’re saying he passed on information we don’t know about? Something related to the president?”

Ryan shrugged. “I’m just saying it’s a possibility we should look into. God knows it’s happened before. Remember that State Department laptop that went missing four years ago? It contained highly sensitive code-word material, and they never found it. The same thing happens over at Justice all the time.”

“Jesus,” Andrews breathed. He turned to the deputy director. “John, I think we ought to bring the Service in on this. We’ll advise them to run an internal audit, see what they can come up with.”

“I agree,” Harper said, but the expression on his face did not match up with his words.

“Unfortunately, I’m going to be tied down for the next few days with Homeland Security. I can’t get out of those meetings, John, but I’m going to set up an appointment with you and Brenneman. I want you there as well, Kealey,” Andrews added as an afterthought. “Maybe you’ll be able to convince him to cooperate with us on this.”

“It would be a big help, sir. I just hope that I’m wrong.”

“So do I,” was the director’s heartfelt response. “So do I.”

Less than five minutes later, Harper and Kealey were out of the DCI’s office and heading down toward the first floor. They walked slowly, speaking in short bursts when the hallway was quiet and clear of people.

“Jesus, Ryan,” Harper said with a smile on his face. “If you show up at the White House looking like you do now, I’m going to run out of the building and never look back.”

Ryan laughed and glanced down at his clothes. “I guess I’ll have to invest in a suit.”

“Is that how you dress when you lecture in Orono?”

“My students are even worse than I am, John. It’s all a matter of degree.”

They fell silent as a tall, trim woman with a flowing mane of auburn hair passed them hurriedly in the hall carrying a stack of files. She flashed Ryan a little smile as she brushed by.

Harper noticed and stuck his elbow in the younger man’s side. “If I got half the attention you do, my friend, I would die a happy man.”

“Not if Julie overheard you saying that. In fact, she would probably kill you herself.”

Harper smiled at the retort, but soon turned serious again. “That shit you just gave Andrews… You don’t really believe any of it, do you?”

“No. I guess it is possible that Shakib leaked something other than Senator Levy’s route, but it’s not likely. Andrews is just new enough to the job to believe something like that, though, and he never would have listened to me if all I’d had to offer were Gray’s final words. This way, he gets to throw some accusations at the Secret Service for failing to control their information, and we get what we want; some real help in tracking Vanderveen down. Unfortunately, now we have to sell it to the president.” Kealey smiled to himself. “That might be a little bit trickier.”

Harper shook his head incredulously. “I always said that you would be a star at headquarters, Ryan. You’re the most naturally deceptive person I know.”

The younger man grinned. “Don’t worry, John, I’m not out for your job. I’d never have the patience for all the ass-kissing you have to do.”

Harper laughed. “It’s that ass-kissing that keeps you out of jail when you pull shit like you did with Elgin.”

“Speaking of Elgin, I think the man knows more than he’s saying. I want to work with Adam North on this, the guy from DEA. He kept it together when it counted. My problem is going to be getting access. Do you think you can arrange that?”

Harper nodded slowly as they crossed the open lobby toward the security desk. “It’ll be tough, but I can get you in there. The worst part will be avoiding the press. I believe they’re holding him in Alexandria. Don’t leave any marks on him this time, Ryan. You shouldn’t have done that in the first place.”

“Don’t worry, I know how to handle it.”

As they pushed out into the cool Virginia air, Ryan looked down the long rows of stone steps to see a dark blue BMW waiting at the curb. Katie was standing next to it, shivering a little in a short black dress. She looked incredible, her light makeup artfully applied, diamond drops hanging from her ears. Her hair was up, and a few loose locks of golden brown fell down around her face. She smiled up at him, and Ryan’s heart skipped a beat.

He turned to Harper, who was wearing a sly grin. “You clever bastard…” He put his hand on the other man’s shoulder and squeezed. “Thanks, John. I owe you one.”

“Take her somewhere nice, Ryan. She deserves it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Ryan let go of his friend’s shoulder and hurried down the steps, wrapping her up in his arms before they shared a lingering kiss. Harper watched from the top of the steps with a rueful grin, laughing a little at the strange compatibility of the couple. Ryan with his unkempt hair, tattered sweater, and heavy boots, while Katie looked like she had just stepped off a runway in Milan.

Harper thought of Julie and his smile grew. As he walked toward the parking lot and his own waiting car, he decided that they would enjoy a night out on the town as well. After all, life was too short for anything less.

ASHLAND, VIRGINIA,WASHINGTON, D.C.

Nicole Milbery had been in the real estate business for sixteen years, and had never wanted to do anything else. Now, at thirty-seven years of age, she was a slender woman of medium height, well known and highly respected in her community. Her shoulder-length honey-blond hair was layered in the latest style, and her soft, doelike brown eyes belied the dogged determination and intelligence that was a hallmark of her character and the reason for her considerable success. She was the sole proprietor of Milbery Realty, an agency based in the northern reaches of Virginia that catered primarily to upscale clientele.

The person sitting across from her now did not fall into that category. He was looking for something far more modest, 120 acres at the most, and only to rent. Although her profit on the deal would be marginal at best, she found herself unwilling to hurry the proceedings along. He was a strikingly handsome man. The dark brown hair was streaked with gold, and she noticed that it drifted over his forehead into his eyes, which were the most amazing color of green she had ever seen. His full lips were perfectly centered beneath a long, straight nose; the clean-shaven jaw was square and firm, and his skin radiated a healthy glow.

He had come into her office just forty-five minutes earlier. When they shook hands he had smiled, revealing boyish dimples and a set of perfect white teeth. Her breath had caught in her throat, and ever since that moment, her professional poise had seemed an arm’s length away, just beyond her grasp when she needed it most.

“So, Mr. Nichols,” she said, deliberately emphasizing the seductive quality of her voice. Her eyes were locked onto his. “I think we’ve made some good choices here. When would you like to take a look at these properties?”

He covered his mouth and faked a cough to hide his sudden grin. Just hearing her say it made him want to laugh. He had chosen it on a whim three years earlier, and in retrospect, he knew it had been a mistake. The very name itself occasionally drew attention, something that he was definitely not looking for.