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Thirty-five years ago, when my father, the senior Senator from the State of Louisiana, with a record of being the second-most conservative member of congress, arrived in the district, the population was half what it was now.
I was still waiting on my salad when I saw her come back out of the building a few minutes later, this time, dressed in a pair of jeans and a blouse. She walked in the opposite direction, toward the pub down the way. The food wasn’t as good as what they served at the café, and they certainly didn’t have a gyro salad.
“Here you go,” said Lindsey, looking in the same direction I was. “You should be ashamed of yourself. She was here before you.”
I ate here at least once every day and didn’t want to piss off the woman who almost always took my order. “Tell you what, the next time she comes in, I’ll pay for her order.”
My phone chimed with a message from my mother, and I groaned. What was wrong with me? How in the hell had I forgotten that today was Sunday and I was having dinner with my parents? I walked out, leaving the to-go container sitting on the counter.
“You’re late, Sumner,” my mother said when I walked into the kitchen and kissed her cheek.
“Is he here?”
“They’re in your father’s study.”
“Ah, there he is,” said my father, motioning me closer. “Ed, this is my son, Sumner. Son, you know Director Fisk.”
“Sumner, it’s a pleasure. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“From my father, no doubt.” I shook the hand of the man who was three rungs above my boss, and hoped that asking my father to arrange a meeting between me and the new director of the CIA wouldn’t blow up in my face.
“Actually, no. I understand you were the person who took down Irish Warrick.”
“There was a team, sir.”
My father clapped me on the back. “What did I tell you, Ed?”
“Dad…”
“Look,” said Fisk. “They call you Cope, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The trial gets underway tomorrow. I’m assuming that’s why you asked for this meeting.”
My father cleared his throat. “If you gentlemen will excuse me, I’ll see how dinner is coming along.” He left the room, closing the door behind him.
I took a deep breath, knowing that what I was about to do could end my career, but worse, if it didn’t work, it could cost the lives of CIA agents around the world.
After dinner, I walked the director to his car. When I came back, my father was waiting on the porch. “Dad, I?—”
“Come with me,” he said, leading me back into his study. “Have a seat, and tell me what the hell that was all about.”
My father was the sitting chair of the United States Senate Select Committee on Intelligence, the whole reason he’d been able to get me an audience with Fisk.
“I can’t talk to you about this, Dad.”
He sat down in the chair behind his desk, turned, and looked out the window.
3
ALI
Itossed the container that held the rest of my half-eaten burger into the trash, not even sure why I’d brought it back to the apartment.
I pulled my cell phone out of my bag when I heard it ringing.
“Hey, Jessica. I was just getting ready to call you.”