The Seven Year Itch (30 page)

At once, Jake’s finger flinched.

J.J. pumped the trigger twice, delivering two bullets,
sending Jake reeling backward onto the floor. She mumbled, “Only the devil
takes one in the neck and one in the chest.”

Her trusted colleague for nearly a decade died before he
collided against the floor. It was her first kill shot—she’d never taken
another man’s life. And she never dreamed she’d have to kill a man she once
called friend.

Lana regained consciousness, saw Jake lying in a pool of his
own blood, and cried out. “Jaaaaake! Nooooooooooooo!”

•
 
•
 
•

Adrenaline pumped through J.J.’s veins,
erasing the ill effects of the previous night’s binge. The day’s events blurred
together. Moments passed before she spotted the herd of TSA agents approaching
them at a rapid pace. Jake lie in a pool of blood, and Lana lie in a pool of
tears. She glimpsed the flashes of light from camera phones, the crowd of onlookers
filming the entire incident like a gang of paparazzi. Suddenly she felt ill.
She had no doubt the incident would wind up on the evening news. Director
Freeman wouldn’t be happy about this unexpected development. More inquiries,
more explanations. At least now she and Tony could answer the most important
questions, and her feelings for Tony were as resolute as they’d ever been.

After a brief discussion with TSA personnel, the threesome
was escorted through the automatic main entrance doors. Lana was greeted by a
slew of FBI agents wearing raid jackets.

An ambulance arrived for Jake’s corpse.

“What the hell took you guys so long?” Tony said. “It’s all
over but the shoutin’.”

“Traffic on 66 is a bitch!” one of the arresting agents
replied.

J.J. and Tony handed over custody of their battered, bruised,
and disheveled detainee and the saddlebag full of intel. “Lana would second
that emotion, wouldn’t you?”

Lana glared at J.J., blood dripping from the corner of her
mouth, the side of her face a rainbow of red, black, and blue. “Laugh now but
this isn’t over. It’s only just begun,” she snarled with a sinister laugh.

J.J. rolled her eyes. “Got that right. I’ll see your ass at
sentencing!”

“I’ll see
you
in
hell!” Lana growled.

“Ha! Joke’s on you, baby! I’m already there!” J.J. turned to
her Washington Field colleagues. “Now please get this wench out of my face
before I bash her face in...
again
.”

Tony and J.J. stood stoic as they watched the cavalcade of
squad cars leave the terminal loading area. She exhaled long and deep, running
her fingers through her hair.

“You, okay?” Tony said, carefully watching J.J.’s expression
for what her mouth wouldn’t say.

 
“Is that a trick
question?” She forced a smile.

 
“You put up a good front
but I know that must’ve been rough on you, with Jake and all. I know how much
he meant to you.”

 
“You mean more,” she
said. “Besides, I made the tough choice, right? Pulled the trigger. I proved...
something
, to
someone
.”

 
An uncomfortable
silence settled between them. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “You saved my
life.”

 
“I swore I wouldn’t
let you down again, and I meant it. Every minute of every day I mean it.” She
leaned toward him and playfully bumped him with her elbow. “But you
so
owe me.”

 
A seductive grin
sliced through his lips. “Anything you want. Just name it.”

 
“Well, I could use a
drink!” J.J. said, as she turned to Tony and held his gaze. “Except...you know
what? I don’t
want
one. Give me a
little time though, I’m sure I’ll think of something else.”

 
His cheeks blushed
red. “Anyway, we probably should get out of here and brief Director Freeman
before he sees us on the 5 o’ clock news. This scene has lead story written all
over it.”

She nodded. “Sounds like a good idea.”

•
 
•
 
•

Back at headquarters in the Director’s
office, Mrs. Whitehouse appeared flustered. She was engrossed in an intense
phone conversation when J.J. and Tony entered the Director’s reception area.

“Ahhhh, here they are. I’ll speak with you later,” she said,
hanging up the phone, no doubt spinning up the rumor mill. “Director Freeman’s
been waiting. Please go straight inside, he’s quite eager to speak with you.”

They hesitated for a moment, then plodded inside. Director
Freeman faced the television screen, his eyes peeled on the image of J.J.
yanking Lana to the ground by her golden locks, captured via bystander cam and
now the third story on the six o’clock news.

“Sir, we were told you wanted to see us,” Tony said to
Director Freeman, uneasy about his reaction. Neither he nor J.J. had accounted
for nosy onlookers sending a video of the incident to Channel 4. Everything
happened so quickly.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the Bonnie and Clyde of the
FBI. Have a seat.” He turned back toward the screen. “See that? Every channel.”

Tony and J.J. sat statue still waiting to be admonished.

“You okay Agent McCall? That must’ve been a tough shot to
take. You’ve worked with Jake for a number of years, I understand.”

“Well, I did what I had to do,” J.J. said. “He was on the
wrong side of the law and my Glock.”

Freeman eyed her closely, searching her expression for
vulnerability. He found none. “Obviously, when an FBI agent gets arrested, a G
gets killed at Dulles for attempting to defect to Moscow, and the arrest makes
the six o’clock news, the FBI director is going to have a few questions to
answer.”

“We understand, sir,” Tony said.

“Not to mention a second agent’s arrest and an assistant
director’s death. The damage assessment on this one will take years if it takes
a minute. I’ve been responding to calls from the Hill and the DNI for the last
hour.”

As Tony sat paralyzed, J.J. surveyed the room, searching for
escape routes. Unfortunately, apart from the office door, her only other option
was to leap from the Director’s seventh-floor window into the
 
headquarters stone-floored courtyard.
Suddenly, the temperature in the room stifled her attempts to catch a breath.

“You’re not here to get your hands slapped if that’s what
you’re concerned about,” Freeman said.

They both exhaled, the tension releasing from their
shoulders.

“But I need the elevator version of what happened,” he said,
wielding his pen over a notebook. “You can save the minutia for the report
you’re turning in tomorrow.” He glanced up and waited for their nods of
acknowledgement; they obliged.

J.J. glared at Tony before he bowed his head toward her,
conceding control of the floor.

“Long story short. Lana Michaels is a really Svetlana
Aleksandrovna Mikhaylova, a Russian illegal who used sex and blackmail to
recruit two agents and one G . . . that we’re aware of so far anyway. We also
believe she’s the daughter of Aleksandr Mikhaylov, the illegals support officer
posted at the embassy.”

“What about Jim Cartwright’s involvement, if any?”

“Mr. Cartwright hired Lana and we also believe he knew her
true identity. He had major financial issues and had engaged in some apparent
homosexual activity. His family was unaware of his
leanings
, and he tried to conceal it. She probably blackmailed him
and paid him big money to keep him on the hook.”

“Okay . . . Okay . . .” he continued to jot down notes. “In
your professional opinion, what was Jack’s involvement?”

Once again, an opportunity presented itself to J.J, a new
chance to put the screws to the bane of her professional existence, and to the
most senior executive in the FBI no less. Despite his apparent remorse, she
knew the asshole still dwelled just beneath the surface. But she suppressed her
unquenched longing for revenge and cleared his name.

“Well, sir, in my professional opinion…,” she said before
pausing to glance at Tony. His expression begged her to ignore everything that
was good and holy, slather on the Vaseline, and screw that racist bastard to
the wall for everything he was worth and then some. “…Lana and Chris framed
Jack. I don’t believe he knowingly or directly provided classified information
to the Russians.”

Tony coughed, the break no doubt intended to allow J.J. to
reverse course. She reluctantly parked on the high road.

“However! I do believe he knowingly and willingly committed
countless security violations. I believe the investigation will reveal that he
gave a professional advantage to the woman he was sleeping with. There is more
than sufficient evidence to support that.”

Tony’s smile said, “Good girl!”

“I see. Interesting,” the director said. “So if I recommended
that the U.S. Attorney drop the espionage charges and release him from jail
immediately, you would support this decision?”

She paused in a lengthy pregnant silence. With a shaky voice,
she answered, “
Legally
, there is no
reason to hold him. Personally? That’s another story.”

The corners of his mouth rolled up into a smile. He almost
appeared to take some warped enjoyment in J.J.’s reluctant honor. “Is there
anything else I should be aware of?”

“I think there’s one more thing we should tell you.” Tony
glanced at J.J. “We can’t discount the possibility of a larger network illegals
operating throughout the community.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Unfortunately, I share the same concern. It’s
one of the issues I’m scheduled to discuss with the DNI at the briefing in the
morning.”

“We can’t link all the compromises to Lana, particularly some
of the CIA and NSA
 
information,” Tony
continued.

“I agree.” he said. “I’ll be sure to convey your opinions.”

He stood up from his seat and stacked his notes in a pile.

“I think I have everything I need. I’ve listened to Chris
Johnson’s interview with the polygraphers, and let’s just say it’s entirely too
gripping for my comfort. I should survive the first round of meetings.” He
stood and gestured for them to do the same, then led them to the door. “I’ll
expect full reports on my desk by noon. Sharp.”

“Sir, what about our polygraphs in the morning?” Tony asked.

“They’ve been canceled. Obviously you have more important
work to do. Your vault access has already been fully restored as well. Keep up
the good work.”

Tony and J.J. smiled as they left the office. Once safely out
of sight, they bumped fists to celebrate.

“Well, looks like my work is done. You’re going to be on your
own after we turn in our reports tomorrow.”

“Quit talkin’ crazy. No way in hell am I gonna let you quit.”
Tony turned to J.J. and smiled. “Besides, Ms. McCall, you and I have some very
important unfinished business to discuss, remember?”

     
“How could I forget?” Her eyes
were tired and her body ached. “But it’s been a long day. Let’s table this
discussion until tomorrow evening, okay? Scouts honor.”

Chapter 48

Late
Thursday Night…

A
ll night long, J.J. tossed
and turned between her new 800-count sheets thinking about Tony and his
proposition. Thinking about the problems she’d tried to deny, about her future
with the FBI. She snatched back the duvet and made her way into the family
room, straight to the shelf which housed “his” picture, the first thing she
needed to get rid of.

She lifted Six’s photo and traced his profile with her index
finger. Oh the passion she’d shared with this man. He had the eyes of the
angel, the soul of Satan himself. It’d long been time for her to move on and
she knew it. She could choose to dwell on what was, what could’ve been. Or
focus her heart and mind on the future, a future with the man who never made
her itch, as her mother had done more than 40 years before. She’d never find
another like Tony, and a rejection would send his frail ego in the arms of
another, the thought of which made her sick to her stomach. No, she refused to
lose him. Besides, Six had never been one to take refuge on the sidelines, not
for long. By now, he was probably preparing to depart for Zimbabwe, where he’d
shop for goats to woo some chief’s daughter, no more thinking about J.J. than
the man on the moon.

When she arrived in the kitchen, picture frame in hand, J.J.
reached into to the cabinet, removed three bottles of Belvedere and poured the
contents of each into the sink. She’d wanted to begin her new life without a
crutch, face life on her own two feet. She stepped on the pedal at the base of
the trashcan which flipped the top open and, when the lid popped up, she
slammed the frame and bottles inside with a loud crash, left nothing but the
sound of broken glass and the memories of shattered outdated dreams. She had
new dreams now. It took a year, but she’d done it, cleaned house. Mr. Six...and
the booze were gone for good.

After shaking off the final remnants of her emotional
crutches, she sat down at the dining room table and drafted her resignation
memo. With each word written, she felt the weight of the world lift from her
shoulders. It was brief but would serve its purpose.

     
Dear Mr. Nixon,

     
I quit.
Effectively immediately.

     
Sincerely,

     
Former Special
Agent J.J. McCall

She returned to her bed moments later and sat on the edge. At
once, her emotions flooded into tears; she heaved sobs for everything and
everyone she’d lost that day. It was a much needed cleansing that would allow
her to welcome with open heart everything and everyone she was about to
gain.
 

•
 
•
 
•

Early
Friday Morning…

Director Freeman’s secretary, Mrs. Whitehouse,
called at the crack of dawn. He had good news to convey to J.J. that couldn’t
wait for regular business hours. And J.J. was mighty glad he didn’t. She rolled
over and palmed the alarm clock on the nightstand. It read five a.m.

Ugh!
she grunted as
she ascended from the bed and felt her way to the bathroom. In the mirror, the
dark circles and red cracked eyeballs divulged openly what her body concealed.
She was damn exhausted. Professionally fulfilled but exhausted. Romantically on
the verge of a new adventure with the man of her dreams but exhausted.
Vindicated. But exhausted. She slogged through the house, pulled herself
together.

She’d waited patiently for the day to arrive, and in a twist
that could only be part of a larger Karmic plan, J.J. would deliver the news
alongside her new man. After their early morning appointment and their
mid-morning meeting with the Director later on, they could grab some lunch,
maybe an early dinner at their favorite watering hole. There she’d break the
news to him—he was stuck with her forever. If he behaved as a good boy should.

She checked herself in the mirror just before she grabbed her
keys to head out the door.

Her lips curled upward when her caller ID lit up.

“Donato! What’s shakin’ bacon?”

“You on the way? We’ve gotta hurry up. He’s gonna be released
in less than an hour and traffic’s a beast.”

“Yeah, I just opened the door.”

“So, uhhh....I know our morning’s full, but do you think
we’ll get a chance to have that talk later today?”

“Absolutely, and let me just say, I think you’re going to be
very pleased with the conversation.”

“Very pleased? Or just sorta pleased.”

“Very.”

She listened closely to hear his smile.
There it is
.

“You don’t know how happy I am to hear that. I’ll see you in
a few.”

She slipped the letter in her pocket and took another look
around her apartment. Indeed, her world would change forever—and for the
better. When she returned home, she’d be a self-employed girlfriend of an
Italian FBI agent, a surprising turn of events indeed.

The exit gate at the Alexandria jail opened, and Jack,
stepped beyond the barbed-wire fence. He looked to the heavens, as if speaking
to God, the same god he’d probably ignored for the sum total of his miserable
life. He was wearing his typical tired polyester slacks and cotton button-down
he’d worn to work on his last free day. When he spotted Tony and J.J. leaning
against the passenger door of her car, he stutter-stepped and then moved toward
them. The corners of his mouth lifted with each step until roughly 30 of his 32
teeth became visible. He bowed his head forward to greet Tony and then turned
to J.J.

“You did it! You cleared my name.” He extended his hand to
her. In the almost seven years that she’d worked for him, she’d never felt his greasy
skin next to hers, and there was little cause to break that stellar record
then.

But she did.

 
“I did my job.”

Although she’d never sought vengeance, she’d relish it.

He tugged the unbelted waist of his pants, and pulled them
over his beer gut. Then he smirked as if the fresh life lesson had already
begun to fade from his memory. “You’re a good agent McCall, a lot like your
mother.”

Her body stiffened as she stood erect. “My mother?” J.J. said
almost breathless. “You mean,
you
knew her?”

Tony snapped his head toward J.J., baffled and confused.

“Yeah...I knew her,” he said. “I’ve been an agent for 33
years, of course I knew her.”

“Then you know what happened.”

He nodded. “Maybe we’ll talk…when I get back to the office.”

“I’m afraid there might be a problem with that.” J.J. glanced
up at Tony and then back at him.

Jack’s eyebrows scrunched. He looked at them both repeatedly.

“Well,” J.J. said. “Director Freeman has authorized me to
inform you that your clearances have been revoked due to excessive security
violations. You can no longer work at headquarters. Security will, however,
escort you to your desk long enough for you to pack up your belongings.”

His mouth fell open. “This is ridiculous! I’m innocent!”

“Yeah, well . . .the Director doesn’t seem to think so,” Tony
chimed in.

Jack jerked his head back, shaking his head in denial.

“He’s giving you the option to accept an early retirement or
face termination,” J.J. said. “It’s your choice.”

Jack tipped his head to the side, turned on his heel, and his
chin dropped to his chest as he started to walk away.

“Jack, what about my mother. What happened to her?”

He started to speak then stopped himself. “You should ask
your father,” he said and never looked back again.

“My father?”

“What’s ‘at all about?” Tony asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out at
Sunday brunch.”

J.J. walked around to the driver’s side to slip into the car.
Just as she poked the key in the ignition and they prepared to pull out, Tony’s
phone rang.

“Donato,” Tony answered.

“Hi. This is Mrs. Whitehouse. The Director would like to see
you immediately.”

“Us?” he asked.

“Yes sir,” she said. “Immediately. As in five minutes ago.”

“All right. We’re on the way.”

He turned to J.J. “We gotta get back to Headquarters. The
director needs to meet with us now.”

“What’s going on? We were supposed to meet with him in a
couple of hours anyway.”

He sighed. “I don’t know but I guess we’ll find out soon
enough.”

•
 
•
 
•

“Sir, you wanted to see us?” Tony asked as he
and J.J. blocked the doorway to the office.

“Good! You’re just in time,” he said. “Follow me.”

Tony and J.J. parted like the Red Sea and Freeman led them
out of the office. Their heels clacked against the tile as he guided them down
nearly empty corridor, not a word spoken as to their destination.

“Again, I want to commend you both on a job well done,”
 
Freeman said. “This compromise issue has been
plaguing the Bureau for far too long. Somehow, you managed to solve the problem
in less than a week.”

“Thank you, sir,” J.J. and Tony now flanked him on either
side.

“You’ve been in the Bureau long enough to know that no good
deed goes unpunished.”

J.J. and Tony chuckled as they continued on.

“First, we’ve had a few developments that I need to make you
both aware of,” he said, his expression one of concern. “We got a call from the
coroner’s office. Based on the angle of the entry and exit wounds, they don’t
believe Cartwright committed suicide. He was murdered.”

“What!” both yelled. J.J. and Tony literally froze in their
tracks.

“Lana?” J.J. asked.

Freeman nodded.

Tony inhaled a deep frustrated breath. “Glad she’s locked
up.”

“Afraid not. Lana escaped from sheriff’s custody this
morning. She claimed she was suffering from severe abdominal pains, apparently
put on quite a performance. Let’s just say there was a failure to do a thorough
body search. She picked the lock on her restraints at the hospital and
escaped.”

“No freakin’ way!” Tony yelled.

J.J. stood in stunned silence.

“According to the sheriff, she made nice with one of the
guards watching her room, had a little help.”

“Get the fu…heck outta here!” Tony said before he caught
himself.
 
“Sorry, sir, but I bet that
idiot’s feeling like a piece of shit right now.”

“Don’t worry,” Freeman said. “I believe I used those exact
words when I found out. We’ve got every law enforcement agency in D.C.,
Northern Virginia, and Prince George’s County looking for her. We’ve got her
house, the airports, and the embassy under surveillance. If a Russian
intelligence officer so much as passes gas, a G will be there to smell it. She
won’t get far.”

“I’m stunned. Absolutely stunned,” J.J. said. She shook her
head incessantly. Lana was shifty and a threat to J.J. as long as she remained
free. She’d get caught all right...if J.J. had to hunt her down on her own.

They all took deep breaths, as Freeman continued to lead them
down the hall.

“In the meantime, I need to personally enlist your
assistance,” Freeman said. “CIA, NSA, and Defense Intelligence have each
provided the DNI with information that corroborates our theory that Lana was
part of a tight network of Russian illegals. They’ve infiltrated the entire
Intelligence Community.”

J.J. and Tony glanced at each other then turned forward,
still trying to figure out where he was taking them. “We suspected as much,”
Tony said.

“So, I want you both to head up an inter-agency task force to
flush them out of the cracks and crevices in which they hide.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” J.J. said. “Did you say ‘
head up’
?”

She placed her hand on her pant pocket, containing her
resignation letter. Finally, a chance to prove she could lead, to prove
Sabinski, Cartwright...perhaps even Tony they’d been wrong about her. She not
only had heart—she also had balls. But with her fingers on the precipice her
new life, her freedom, did she have anything left to prove?

They rounded corner at the end of the corridor, which led to
an executive conference room. J.J. could see human shadows behind the frosted
glass. This was her last chance to back out. Once she stepped in, she’d be
committed until they caught the moles.

She stopped walking before they reached the door, her silence
awkward and unexpected.

“Everything okay Agent McCall?” Director Freeman asked.