Betrayal (15 page)

“I can’t help it,” Alex confessed. “I’ll just….”

Cassidy reached over and grasped Alex’s arm lightly. “I know you’ll miss him.” It had been a difficult few weeks with so many upheavals and the death of President John Merrow had taken a great toll on Alex. Having Dylan home kept the agent occupied and Cassidy understood that in some way this felt to the agent like another loss. She smiled as Alex finally turned to her. “Come on, you said you wanted boring.”

“What are you planning?” Alex narrowed her gaze playfully.

“Me?” Cassidy feigned innocence. “Nothing,” she laughed. “
But
, there are still a boat load of boxes to unpack in the garage. That ought to keep us both busy.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “FANTASTIC!” she exclaimed sarcastically.

“Mr. Callier, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Congressman O’Brien greeted the older man.

Edmond Callier studied the congressman. He searched the eyes before him intently and watched as Christopher O’Brien offered him a sly smile. ‘Smug,’ he thought. “Yes, Congressman, please…sit,” he gestured to an arm chair seated at the table.

“So, Mr. Callier, I understand that you have concerns over some of the current legislation in our House…I am here to assure you…”

Callier interrupted, “assurances do not exist, Mr. O’Brien. I think we both know that. I am, however, interested in your plans.”

“I don’t know if I understand….Senator Levy made it clear that you would be looking for…”

The older man rose from his seated position and walked across the room keeping his back to the congressman. “Senator Levy is not my concern. The legislation will take care of itself. Sympathy for your fallen leader is the only assurance of that needed.” O’Brien watched as the man calmly poured himself a drink and continued. “However, I am interested in your plans on this initiative for, what was it called? Oh yes, more
oversight
on intelligence. And on the campaign funding bill I have heard so much about. How do you plan to rectify that?”

“Neither is even in debate. That bill has not even been completely crafted.”

“Ah…but it would restrict the bundling of campaign donations; would it not? Further than it already does?” Callier kept his back turned and lifted the small glass to his lips taking a healthy sip and grimacing slightly as he felt the burn glide down his throat. “And, it would make distinctions between foreign corporations; even those with American subsidiaries; no? And, if I understand correctly is would place more legislative power over your investigative agencies.”

“Well, yes…”

“These cannot come to pass. We already have challenges with the reluctance of our Israeli partners to act as intermediaries. The fluidity of funds cannot be compromised,” Callier continued as he lifted the glass again.

“Mr. Callier, I can assure you that the negotiations….”

Callier shook his head and turned, “
N`assurez pas ce que vous ne pouvez pas. C’est la preuve d’un imbécile. Vous négociez ce que vous pouvez et vous achetez ce que vous devez. Ce qui reste après que n’a qu’une seule autre solution
(Do not make assurances you cannot. That is the mark of a fool. You negotiate what you can and you purchase what you must. What is left after that has only one other solution).”

Congressman Christopher O’Brien’s posture stiffened and he looked at the table to gather his thoughts. “I am sorry, Mr. Callier, I do not speak…”

“I am sorry, I assumed…that charming ex-wife of yours spoke fluently.”

O’Brien looked up in shock. “How do you know Cassidy?”

The older man smiled and spoke softly. “
Seul un fou pourrait laisser filer une telle femme
(only a fool would let such a woman go).” He lifted his eyebrow as the congressman shifted in his chair. “I have met Cassidy, Mr. O’Brien, many years ago. A man does not easily forget a charming, beautiful woman who possesses intellect.” He took a long pause before finishing his thought, “at least not an astute man.”

“Well, Cassidy is many things….”

The older man set his glass down. “I think that we are finished here, Congressman.”

The stern look on the older man’s face prompted the congressman to reach his feet swiftly. “What is it,” O’Brien asked, “that you would like me to convey to President Strickland?”

With a nod Callier answered. “If he cannot deliver; assurances will be provided.” The man opened the door to the conference room. He paused and looked at the congressman sympathetically. “I am sorry for your loss, Mr. O’Brien.”

“Thank you. The nation will recover.”

“Yes, I am sure. I was not referring to the loss of your president.” O’Brien looked at him and Callier smirked. “Have you heard of Jean de La Fontaine?” The congressman shook his head. “I see. Not the lover of poetry then. Another difference from your former wife.” Callier turned around, retrieved a piece of paper and wrote something on it. He handed it to the younger man who looked at it curiously. “He once said, ‘
Toute personne chargée de puissance va en abuser sinon également animée par l’amour de la vérité et de la vertu, peu importe que ce soit un prince, ou l’un du people
(Anyone entrusted with power will abuse it if not also animated with the love of truth and virtue, no matter whether he be a prince, or one of the people),” Callier recited the passage in French. “Look it up.”

Cassidy opened a large box and pulled out a blue photo album. “What you got there?” Alex asked. Just as Cassidy was about to answer Alex’s cell phone rang. “Tate,” she said quietly. Cassidy blew out a breath and nodded her understanding as Alex walked out of the living room. “Assistant Director,” she answered.

“Agent,” he responded professionally. “Your reinstatement is set for Monday.”

“Thank you Sir. I assume it is formally approved?”

“It is.”

Alex pursed her lips and took a deep breath. “Then, I am afraid I need to tender my resignation.” The agent slowly wandered back into the living room and stood in the doorway, glancing over to see Cassidy flipping through the pages of the album.

“Agent Toles…”

“Sir, I have decided to accept a position with another agency. I will send you my formal letter this afternoon,” she
said somewhat coolly. Joshua Tate nodded his understanding on the other side of the line. “Sir?”

“I understand, Agent,” he answered.

An awkward silence ensued and Cassidy looked up to Alex as the agent ran her tongue over her lips. “Thank you for your support,” Alex said as genuinely as she could manage.

“Of course, Agent.” Alex was ready to hang up when the assistant director’s voice continued. “Alex,” he said in what was almost a whisper. “Just,” he swallowed hard. “Well, I wish you the best.”

The agent was certain there was something else that Joshua Tate wanted to say which piqued her curiosity. “Thank you,” she said as she hung up the call, sitting down on the sofa and putting her face in her hands.

Slowly, Cassidy made her way over and placed her hand on the small of Alex’s back. “What is it?”

“My reinstatement was approved.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Cassidy’s own apprehension about Alex moving back to the NSA was something she had tried desperately to suppress in front of her lover. Working as an FBI agent posed many risks. The NSA conjured images and ideas of secret agents, spying on civilians and worst of all, imminent danger. The thought of losing Alex was terrifying to Cassidy but she was determined to be supportive. “Alex?”

“It is a good thing,” the agent said with a reassuring smile. “I need to call Taylor.”

Cassidy nodded her understanding as Alex stood and made her way out of the room. She put her face in her hands and took a deep breath. “God,” she sighed. A sudden rattling sound from the side table startled her and she watched her cell phone gently glide across it. “Now what?” she muttered.

“Why the change?” Krause asked rubbing his forehead.

“Strickland is an idiot,” Admiral Brackett answered.

Jon Krause held the phone in front of his face and rolled his eyes. Moving it back to his ear he shook his head and chuckled. “He’s arrogant. I told you that from the beginning.”

“What did Viktor say?” the admiral inquired with notable concern in his voice.

“He’s spooked. Worried about Callier. Worried about the French commitment to our operations.”

Admiral Brackett paced the floor of his small office. “Is he talking action?”

“It’s clearly an option for the Russians.”

“Jesus Christ, Jon.”

“I think you can rest easy for now. He won’t like this change though, delaying the transaction again to deal with O’Brien. What about Edmond?”

The admiral sat behind his desk, twirling a pen mindlessly in his fingers. “Edmond agrees. O’Brien is a liability.”

“Sending O’Brien to Corsica…it’s an exposure risk. If he…”

“Jon, call Edmond. He will explain. We need to put O’Brien in line. He’s no longer an asset. Go to London. Mitchell will meet you there. Edmond will deal with Mercier. Corsica presents an opportunity to put this to bed. I’ll inform Sparrow. Sparrow will get the documentation we need.”

Jon Krause took a deep breath. “Are you sure that is a wise decision?”

“There’s no choice. Contact Edmond first. We need a trail to O’Brien that is verifiable. Strickland remains a wild card.” Krause chuckled. Lawrence Strickland was the opposite of John Merrow. The decision to remove President Merrow may have stitched closed one tear in the network but in the process it effectively infected everything else with an unpredictable virus. “Krause, we need to handle this situation quickly.”

“Well, Admiral,” the CIA agent began. “Have you an antidote for hubris?”

William Brackett’s temple twitched as he considered his response for a moment. The final decision to assassinate John Merrow came from him. He listened to the players and their concerns and he took the necessary action. Now, he hated to admit Krause’s words stung. Strickland was not dependable, O’Brien was not trustworthy and both had only one agenda; the furtherance of his career. That made them dangerous players that needed to be controlled quickly. “You brought O’Brien into this,” the admiral reminded the agent.

“Did I?” Krause countered. “I set up what you asked. I positioned where you dictated. I believe that I cautioned the chosen…”

“Yes, I recall,” Brackett admitted. “London, Jon. O’Brien is going to Corsica next week. Work with Agent Mitchell. Make it happen. I want him removed from this.”

Krause let out a heavy sigh and tossed the phone aside. “My pleasure this time,” he said.