Commitment (50 page)

“I would suggest that you direct that question to Director Taylor, but that might prove difficult now. They found his body in that residence as well,” Jeffrey Mansfield said bluntly.

President Strickland’s expression was vacant. He spun the words around in his head a few times before speaking. “So, what are you telling me…exactly?”

“Just what I know to be the facts. I already called in the team. The earliest wires are suggesting that Michael Taylor and Christopher O’Brien were dealing in more than just drugs and questionable campaign funding. It may be a stretch, but you know the press. They love to speculate, and they are already insinuating a possible hand in the embassy bombing,” Mansfield explained.

“That’s preposterous!” Strickland hopped to his feet. “There’s no evidence of that at all. None! Michael Taylor had an impeccable record of service!”

Mansfield contained his smile. The president was growing more agitated as the minutes ticked by. It confirmed some of Jeffrey Mansfield’s suspicions. Recent events caused a few of President Lawrence Strickland’s closest advisers and staff to begin to question the real motivation behind the attack on the U.S. Embassy in Moscow. Strickland had reacted uncharacteristically cool and calm when the news of the bombing had been delivered. The president was a politician, not a military leader. Strickland was considered a master orator and speech writer. That was the persona that the public was allowed to see; the prepared and composed President Lawrence Strickland. Lawrence Strickland seldom responded to stressful news
calmly in private. His handling of the situation in Moscow had garnered him plaudit after plaudit from the press. Privately, many of those closest to him had begun to wonder if President Strickland might have had some prior knowledge of the attack.

Mansfield allowed the president a moment before continuing. “I am aware of Director Taylor’s official history of service. It doesn’t change the facts. Michael Taylor was found with a bullet to the head in the kitchen of Congressman Christopher O’Brien’s home, not even an hour ago. It appears he’d been dead for some time. The FBI, ATF, DEA, and the Department of Homeland Security are already on site,” Mansfield said.

“Jesus Christ,” Strickland groaned.

“The working theory is that Taylor had been operating outside the fray for years. He threw O’Brien to the wolves; O’Brien retaliated,” the president’s chief of staff stated the facts as he knew them.

“Like Christopher O’Brien could ever outwit the NSA? Come on, Jeffrey,” President Strickland waved his hand in dismissal. “No one will ever believe that.”

“People will believe almost anything they hear; if they hear it enough,” Jeffrey Mansfield answered.

President Strickland’s jaw became visibly taut. “I want to know the minute everyone arrives. Get William Brackett here as well,” he ordered.

“Sir?”

“It’s not a request, Jeffrey. Just get him here,” Strickland barked.

“Yes, Sir,” Mansfield agreed.

“And you make certain that Bob starts the spin cycle yesterday,” Strickland called out.

Jeffrey Mansfield left the president’s quarters continually shaking his head. His gut told him that if he didn’t jump off President Lawrence Strickland’s ship soon, he would sink along with it. He picked up his phone and dialed the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. “General Snyder,” Mansfield greeted.

“I’m on my way, Jeffrey,” General Snyder replied.

“I am certain. He’s requested Admiral Brackett’s presence,” Jeffery Mansfield explained.

The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs snickered. “Well, that
is
interesting. An unofficial player called to an official meeting.”

“I agree,” the president’s chief of staff replied.

“Well, he is the Commander in Chief. I’ll make the call,” General Snyder said. “I’d suggest a lot of coffee and maybe a Valium or two at the ready,” the general joked.

“I’ll take it under advisement,” Mansfield laughed. He made his way through the corridors of The White House without incident or conversation until he felt the buzz of his phone reverberate again. “Mansfield,” he answered.

“Jeffrey,” a woman’s voice greeted him amicably. The president’s chief of staff stopped in his tracks. “How’s it feel to be the second officer on the Titanic?” she asked.

“Jane…”

“That’s what I thought. You see the iceberg ahead?” Jane Merrow asked. Mansfield did not respond. “I want you to head straight for it,” she told the man.

“You don’t know what you are asking,” Mansfield said hoarsely.

“I do,” Jane assured him.

Jeffrey Mansfield struggled momentarily to catch his breath. He’d been in this business most of his life. John Merrow had told him once that there was no escape. When you signed on at the agency, it was for life. You might simmer on the back burner for a long while, but sooner or later things would boil over. It was inevitable. “What do you need?” he asked.

“Delay an official statement as long as possible,” she said. “Let the wheels turn a bit.”

“You know that won’t be easy,” Mansfield said.

“That’s why you make the big bucks, Jeffrey,” Jane reminded him.

“I understand,” he answered.

“I know you do. I’ll be in touch. And, Jeffrey? Let me know how Bill Brackett responds to this situation; will you?”

Alex listened to Jonathan Krause intently. She sat continuously pressing on her left temple with her thumb, absently lifting her coffee cup to her lips again and again. Krause had explained the details of both Michael Taylor’s death and Christopher O’Brien’s car accident as he understood them. Alex was not only curious as to who Brian Fallon’s savior might have been; she was worried about the motivation behind that action. Great pains had been taken to link NSA Director Michael Taylor directly to Congressman Christopher O’Brien. Alex did not find relief in any of the knowledge she had gained, but rather concern. “You and I both know Taylor was not running drugs, and neither was O’Brien,” Alex said.

“I know. Someone wanted Taylor compromised, Alex. Someone. My best guess is that they were in the process of setting up O’Brien, and he just made their plan all the more easy and attractive. It timed perfectly. O’Brien’s accident feeds directly into the scenario,” Krause said.

“But why?” Alex wondered.

“I don’t know,” Krause admitted. “It wasn’t me. It wasn’t Edmond who made that call to take out Taylor. And, trust me, I would like to take the credit.”

“The admiral?” Alex guessed.

“Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know. We need to push up our meeting,” Krause said.

Alex nodded her understanding just as Cassidy entered the room. “Guess that answers the question of your leaving, huh?” Cassidy tried to seem unaffected. Alex grimaced.

“Cassie,” Jonathan Krause stepped forward and hugged his friend. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For everything.”

Cassidy sighed heavily and pulled away. “It’s all right, Pip.”

“There is some good news,” Krause offered.

“Really?” Alex made no effort to conceal her sarcasm. “By all means, enlighten us!”

“Well, for one thing you will be gone Monday morning, but home Monday night,” he said. He turned to Cassidy. “Neither of us will be traveling anywhere far soon, Cassie.”

Cassidy was perplexed and looked to Alex to explain. “It would send up too many red flags,” Alex said. “We’re grounded; indefinitely,” she said.

Cassidy still did not completely understand. She just nodded softly to indicate her acceptance of the statement. Cassidy could not deny the truth; the news that Alex was “grounded indefinitely” lifted a weight from her shoulders. Cassidy realized that might be selfish, but at the moment she didn’t care. She looked at the stranger seated across from her wife and offered the younger woman a smile. “I’m sorry,” Cassidy said apologetically. “You must be Eleana.”

Eleana nodded. “It’s nice to meet you. I am sorry about the…”

Cassidy shook her head. “No. No more apologies today from any of you,” she said.

“Did you get your mom?” Alex asked.

“Yeah. She’ll be here in a couple of hours. Alex, I want to see the news before Dylan gets up,” Cassidy said.

“Are you sure?” Alex asked. “Cass, Pip and I can fill you in on what we actually know.”

Cassidy held up her hand. “Not now, Alex. I need to know what Dylan might hear, not what you have discovered.”

Alex sighed heavily. “All right, fair enough.”

“We’ll leave you two,” Krause began to offer his goodbyes.

“No,” Cassidy stopped him. “No. Dylan needs all of us,” she said. Cassidy looked at Alex and recognized her wife’s silent thanks. “You’re part of this family too, Pip.”

“I should go,” Eleana pulled out her chair.

“Not you either,” Alex scolded the younger woman. “Eleana, we are all in this one together. Jonathan was family
long before I knew he was my brother,” Alex admitted. “You’ve been through enough today,” Alex said. “You both need some rest. We have the room. And, I can’t believe I am going to say this, but maybe you should call Claire,” Alex suggested. Three sets of eyes fell on Alex in stunned disbelief. Alex rolled her eyes. “Jesus! I don’t like the woman!” Alex exclaimed. She looked at the pained expression on the younger woman’s face and sighed. “I’m sorry, Eleana. I am. I don’t trust Claire.”

“I know,” Eleana said. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

Alex huffed slightly. “I didn’t say that I didn’t understand. I said that I don’t trust her. I don’t trust her actions not to hurt my family or my friends,” Alex admitted. She watched Eleana’s eyes fall shut in resignation of the truth. “That includes you,” Alex continued.

Cassidy studied Alex as she spoke and squeezed Jonathan Krause’s hand. Alex had filled Cassidy in on some of her observations of Eleana Baros. Alex had shared with Cassidy that she detected an emotional connection between Edmond Callier’s daughter and Jonathan Krause. Alex might have little use for Agent Brackett, but she was growing fond of Eleana. As Cassidy listened to her wife address Eleana, she was reminded that Alex was incapable of hate. Cassidy and Alex shared the same feelings about many things. They loathed people’s actions. They struggled to comprehend the level of pain that selfishness could inflict, but neither of them could hate another person. Cassidy glanced at the friend beside her. Jonathan Krause was listening with great interest to the conversation just inches away. It did not escape Cassidy’s notice that his focus drifted back and forth between the two women with a similar expression of admiration.

“Call Claire or don’t,” Alex said. “It’s your decision. No matter what happens going forward, Claire will always be a part of you,” Alex said. “The sooner you accept that, Eleana; the sooner you can actually let her go.” Alex motioned to Cassidy to follow her into the other room.

“I love you, Alex,” Cassidy said as they walked into the family room. Alex tipped her head in confusion at the endearment. Cassidy chuckled. “Have I not said that lately, or something?”

“No, I just wondered where that came from,” Alex admitted.

“No place in particular,” Cassidy said. “I just do. Now, come on; let’s get this over with. Dylan will be up before we know it.”

Alex clicked on the television. “Cass, for whatever it’s worth….I know he will always be a part of your life in some way. I am sorry,” Alex said honestly.

“That’s true. Chris isn’t my future,” Cassidy said. “I hope Eleana takes your advice.”

“You do?” Alex asked.

“Yeah. You have to let go of the past before you can see the future that is staring you right in the face,” Cassidy observed.

Alex chuckled and took her wife’s hand. “You sound like my mother.”

“Smart woman,” Cassidy said, taking a deep breath as Alex increased the volume on the television.

Cassidy braced herself for the images and words she was about to confront. She felt Alex squeeze her hand in encouragement. “You know, they say you always marry a woman like your mother,” Alex whispered. She heard Cassidy’s soft snicker. “I promise, I’ll make sure we all get through this,” Alex said confidently. “I’ll do whatever I have to do so that Dylan feels safe and happy. Anything.”

“I know you will,” Cassidy said. “That’s why I married a woman just like my mother.”