Commitment (4 page)

r. President, Prime Minister Kabinov is on the secure line.”

“Thank you, Robert,” President Strickland replied. The president waited for the door to close and slowly lifted the receiver to his ear. “Sergei. What, may I ask, compels you to call?”

“Ah, Mr. President. Has it been that long that we are no longer friends?” the Russian prime minister answered.

“Am I supposed to believe that this is an extension of friendship?” the president inquired.

“Lawrence, you know the position. Your ambassador, his interference is unacceptable.”

President Lawrence Strickland drew in a full breath and released it slowly. “Ambassador Matthews is not the issue.”

“Ah, no. But, he is part of the equation; is he not? It’s time. Ivanov is ready,” the prime minister answered.

“I have diplomatic assistance en route. I can’t pull them back now, Sergei. It would raise too many questions,” Strickland interjected.

“Unfortunate for them. Perhaps an added assurance for us,” Kabinov answered.

“How soon?” Strickland asked.

“It is in motion. You will know when the sparrow flies. The president will call formally.”

President Lawrence Strickland closed his eyes and swallowed hard. Sergei Kabinov was a man he had crossed paths
with many times over the years. Kabinov was considered by most to be moderate in his political ideology, far more so than Russian President Yegor Markov. Strickland shook his head gently as he considered his reply. “You understand…once this transpires, there will be no turning back,” Strickland warned.

“Mr. President, am I sensing hesitation?”

“You sense my comprehension, Sergei. Comprehension of what we will soon face.”

“Sometimes, Mr. President, fear is the greatest motivator. It ensures control. Something we have both lost,” Kabinov reminded the American president. “They need an enemy, Lawrence. One they can taste. We will provide that for them all. Blurred lines have created chaos. It is time for clear divisions again.”

Strickland closed his eyes. He had resigned himself to this course. Control equaled power and power was something he had sought his entire life. The news was riddled with conspiracy theories about President John Merrow’s assassination, stories of corrupt politicians and election officials, insinuations of over-arching and intrusive eavesdropping. Terrorists were not an enemy that could be leveraged for economic or even political gain. They were mostly invisible and difficult to portray. With an unseen and undefined enemy, the enemy had slowly become the state. Kabinov was not wrong. The same was true in Russia. This new world of blurred geographical lines had been a boon for many, but it had unintended consequences for those attempting to lead nations. The digital age consumed far more than it produced and somehow it needed to be slowed. Years in legislative life instructed the president that more drastic measures were required. Sometimes, the answers to the future are found in the past. The past was precisely what Kabinov was about to recreate. “I’ll await President Markov’s call. We will proceed as planned.”

“
Chto sluzhit nam, sluzit vsem
(What serves us, serves all),” Kabinov said as he disconnected the call. The president gently
placed the receiver on its home and threw his head back. There was nothing to do now, but wait.

“Claire. Sit down.”

“You could have at least invited me for dinner,” was Claire Brackett’s snarky reply.

Admiral William Brackett frowned and shook his head slightly. “Why would I do that, Claire? I doubt very much that the type of evening my company would provide would rank very high on your social calendar.”

Claire Brackett leaned back into the large chair and propped her feet on the table in front of her. “That hurts, Daddy. Don’t you remember all those bedtime stories you used to read me?”

The admiral cleared his throat. It pained him to look at the woman his daughter had become. Claire Brackett was beautiful and clever. She was articulate, and she was brilliant. She was manipulative, like any agent that hopes to survive and rise to the top of the intelligence echelon. But, Claire Brackett was also unfocused, unruly, and uninhibited; by anything. She was a pure, unadulterated opportunist without any cause or meaning informing her actions. He had told her many stories, taken her many places, introduced her to diverse cultures; all hoping that she would become as centered as she was cunning and as dutiful as she was driven. He often wondered now where he had failed in that endeavor. He loved her, but he feared he could not save her from herself. “I’ll leave the evening entertainment to Dimitri and your congressman,” he said dryly.

“Guess I won’t expect you to pay for the wedding,” she quipped. Admiral Brackett chuckled. “So…then, what is it, Daddy? No dinner. No stories. What is it that you called me here for?

He smiled and took a seat on the edge of his tall, wooden desk. “Seems your friends misplaced something that you
took for them,” he said. Claire Brackett’s expression became tauter, but she did not respond. “Oh, what?” her father asked. “You give me credit for knowing your relationship with Dimitri, but you think your efforts with Agent Anderson would somehow escape my notice?” He nodded with a sarcastic smile. His daughter remained silent, but he could see the stiffening of her posture. It would be difficult for most people to read Claire Brackett, but for her father she remained largely an open book. It was the Achilles Heel that Claire still refused to acknowledge. He rose from his makeshift seat and paced the room slowly as he continued. “I wonder how Dimitri will feel when he realizes that his nuclear material is missing.” He let his statement lie for a moment and then turned to face his daughter. “Do you think he will blame you?” Claire remained stoic. “No. Of course not. You simply liberated it from Carecom, and that was months ago…and right out from under Agent Toles, I might add. Now,
that
is something.” His compliment was caustic at best, and he saw the almost imperceptible twitch of his daughter’s eyelid. “Well, knowing Dmitri and his uncle, my bet is that he
will
blame you. You and Agent Anderson…and, if I were a betting man, that very nice man who charged you with such an enormously difficult task.”

“Is there a point to this?” Claire finally asked.

“You are my daughter, Claire. Contrary to your beliefs I would prefer you stay alive.”

“I’m sure,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

The admiral studied his daughter from across the room. “I would suggest you find it, but I’m certain Agent Toles and Agent Krause are already on that.” He watched as the young woman’s pupils dilated.

“So your point in this meeting was to bait me with Alex Toles?”

“No. Not at all.”

Claire Brackett stood indignantly. “Well, thank you for the enlightening chat. You always were focused on my education,” she offered smugly.

“Education is the best investment anyone can make in themselves, Claire…. Particularly in your line of work.”

She smirked and moved toward him, slowly leaning in and kissing his cheek. Softly she whispered in his ear. “Nice move. I’m not your pawn to play,” she hissed.

The admiral stood perfectly still and unwavering in expression as he watched his daughter leave the room. He waited several long beats before lifting the receiver of his phone. “Yes…. She just left….Hook, line, and sinker…..I am certain. She’ll contact him any minute….Just be cautious. She may light the way down the path, but don’t expect that path to be clear…… Watch yourself.”

Alex walked through the door of her mother’s house and collapsed against it momentarily. She set down a small bag in her hand, then her briefcase. She tossed her keys on top of the case and pinched the bridge of her nose. The house was quiet. She suspected her mother had retired early, and she felt herself wading through a mixture of disappointment and relief that she was alone. It had been a long few days. She glanced up the staircase in front of her and gently massaged her temples. The weight of her conversation with Jonathan Krause was size-able. Alex learned early on in her career that when she felt a twinge in her gut she needed to pay close attention. Right now, she felt ill. Everything within her was telling her that Russ Matthews was in trouble. She feared that whatever retaliation Viktor Ivanov and the former Russian contingent of The Collaborative chose to take; it would have a larger purpose on a much grander scale.

Worse, at least for Alex, she was concerned about Cassidy. Cassidy was under constant pressure dealing with Christopher O’Brien. Alex knew that Cassidy was determined to distance Dylan from the man he knew as his father. It was all taking a toll on her wife. She wondered if perhaps they should take a break from attempting to grow their young family. It was an added stress, even if it was with the most loving and hopeful of intentions. Alex felt incredibly guilty for her frequent absences over the last few months. She knew they added to the strain. She had missed Cassidy. She had missed Dylan. The physical distance was something she needed to close, and soon. There would always be trips she would need to take, many times without warning. That was unavoidable and all the more reason that her daily work needed to move closer to home. She kneaded her temples, threw her head back against the door and sighed.

“Alex?” a voice softly called.

Alex’s eyes were startled open. She strained to focus on the sight in front of her. “Cass?”

“Yeah,” Cassidy giggled as she began to close the distance between them. “Surprised to see me, I guess.” Cassidy smiled as she reached Alex.

“What are you doing here?” Alex asked, almost as if she was unsure Cassidy was real.

“I missed you too,” Cassidy laughed and placed a gentle kiss on her wife’s lips.

Alex kept her eyes closed and took a deep breath. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

“Um-hm. You might
see
me better if you opened your eyes,” Cassidy joked. Alex just sighed and kissed her gently. “Alex?”

“Hmm?”

Cassidy tried to suppress her laughter. The relief she felt in Alex’s arms was indescribable. It lightened her spirit. “You look exhausted,” she observed. “Did you eat?” Cassidy asked. Alex opened her eyes and shook her head. “Alex, you have to stop and eat.” Alex turned slightly and handed Cassidy the small
bag she had placed on the floor, sporting a cheesy grin. Cassidy narrowed her gaze playfully and peeked in the bag. She rolled her eyes and nodded. “I see,” she said. “Cupcakes were not exactly what I was referring to.”