CHAPTER TWENTY
She had no idea who Gunnar was talking about. There weren’t many people who had more clearance than Dalton Knight. At least, she didn’t think there was.
There is one person who has more clearance than everyone.
Don’t be ridiculous, he’d never call…
“Good afternoon, Mr. President.” Gunnar leaned back in his chair and placed one foot on his opposite knee. “I have a situation, and I’d like your input, preferably before I piss off a lot of people.”
“Is that really…?” she whispered to Draven.
“Yeah, they are old buddies.” He kept his eyes on Gunnar. “Their fathers served together, way back in the day.”
“I—no wonder he didn’t care about tossing the CIA agents out on their ears.”
“Even if he didn’t know him, Gunnar wouldn’t give a shit either way. He has his lines in the sand. Coming to his house without an invite is one.”
“We had one… an invite… right?”
“Yeah. Nemesis and Gunnar are tight.”
Their whispered conversation clearly annoyed Gunnar as he tapped his knuckles on the desk, then slashed his hand across his neck in a silent but clear ‘shut up’ order. “The president wants to know if you picked up the information packet your father sent you for.”
She blinked at him. “I don’t—”
“Cut the crap, Miss Fox,” Gunnar growled. “The president is who gave the order for those papers to collected.”
Indecision gnawed at her insides. She’d never, ever compromised any job she’d worked. Ever. Even when her father had asked her for something, when he wasn’t on the need-to-know list, she’d refused to tell him anything. “How do I know you are even talking to the president?”
“Because I’m not a liar.” Gunnar stared at her for a heartbeat, then pressed a button on the phone and dropped the handle into the cradle. “Mr. President, you are on speaker, Sir.”
“Thank you, son.”
Her mouth dropped open as she recognized the voice from the TV, but she wasn’t quite ready to trust it.
Crap.
“How do I know that’s not recorded or a trick of some kind?” She shook off the hand Draven placed on her arm and glared at Gunnar. “Prove that is the president and give me a reason why I should trust you.”
“You trust him.” Gunnar jerked his chin in Draven’s direction. “That—”
She snorted, interrupting him. “You aren’t him.”
Chuckling filtering over the phone stopped their argument. “I’ll call you on video in about ten minutes, just as soon as I have a secure channel set up.”
“Yes, Sir. I’ll be waiting on your call.” He glared at her across the table. “That was rude.”
“Maybe it was,” she acknowledged. “But I’m also not going to break promises I made on your say so.” She could feel Draven’s gaze as he studied her like a bug under a microscope, but refused to be distracted and held eye contact with Gunnar. “I’m sorry if that annoys you, but tough luck, because my word means something to me.”
Gunnar leaned back in his chair and blew out an audible breath as if he was striving for patience. He turned to Draven. “You picked well. Look after her.”
“I intend to.”
“Smart.” Gunnar steepled his fingertips together. “What’s the plan, Kilkenny?”
Draven snorted and leaned forward to grab his glass from the desk. “Keep Indy safe, and burn the world to the ground if that’s what it takes to do it.”
Gunnar shook his head. “You’re gonna lose your clearance and burn your career to the ground.”
She hated that Gunnar was probably correct. By calling Draven to rescue her in Congo, she’d set wheels on a bus which couldn’t be stopped in motion. She turned to him. “Walk away now. Mayb—”
Draven glared at her, drained his brandy, and placed the glass back on the desk with a thud. “Not a chance in hell.”
Her hands balled into fists. “But—”
He plucked her glass out of her hands. “If one sip of brandy makes you think I’m leaving you to deal with this alone, you’ve had more than enough of it.” He tossed her drink back too and placed her glass next to his. “Fill those up again, Gunnar, because I have a feeling I’m going to need the fortification for what’s coming.”
He’s an idiot.
He should walk away from me right now.
She opened her mouth, but couldn’t find the words she needed and snapped it shut again. With Draven, it was sometimes better to say nothing until you had your ducks in a row. Her ducks weren’t in a row. They weren’t in the same room, and at this point she was pretty sure one of them was a pigeon or a chicken.
The chicken is you. You should just tell them thank you for the help and leave.
“I think your lady is trying to protect you,” Gunnar said mildly as he refilled the glasses. “If you want to keep working for Nemesis, maybe you should listen to her.”
“Don’t—” Draven was cut off by chiming from the computer and a simultaneous knock on the door.
Talon stuck his head in the room and pointed at Gunnar’s computer. “Remi says that’s the POTUS for you. Answer it.”
“Thanks.” Gunnar tapped the space bar on his computer and moved it until the screen was where they all could see it and tapped answer. The screen flipped a couple of times before it finally steadied.
“Sandra, this thing isn’t working,” the voice from before grumbled. “I can’t see anything.”
“Dan, we do this every single time,” a woman chided softly. “With the amount of calls our grandkids make, you would think you’d have the hang of it by now. Move the phone back and prop it on the stand and don’t touch anything.”
“I’m doing it,” Dan grumbled. “You’d think these things would be easier to manage.”
“You’re just spoiled with all the aides and secretaries running after you to fix everything for you,” Sandra replied. “What are you going to do when we are done here? You have got to learn how to use the technology the kids have.”
“Maybe the aliens will have invaded by then, and I won’t have to worry about it.”
The screen finally came into focus and the President of the United States filled it.
Oh, no. I screwed up.
That classifies as a crapola for sure.
Aliens are real?
“Hello, Miss Fox,” the president said. “Do you recognize me now?”
“Yes—um—yes, Sir.” She was so freaking proud that her nervousness didn’t bleed through in her tone. Mortification marched up her spine and she knew she was blushing, as the heat in her cheeks begged for her to press her palms against them. She resisted the urge—barely. “I apologize for my rudeness earlier.”
He snorted. “India, if I had a problem with everyone verifying who I am, I’d never get anything signed, never mind done.” He leaned forward, almost blocking their view, then sat back down.
Is he buttering toast?
Shit, we interrupted his breakfast .
“Now, India.” The president placed the butter knife across his plate. “I understand you are the person who picked up a package in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Is that correct?”
“Yes, Sir, Mr. President.”
“Good, good.” The corners of the president’s mouth curved upward in a smile which didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You are to give that package to Gunnar McKinley. He will make sure it gets to where it’s meant to be going.”
“My orders were to bring it to my father.”
“That won’t be possible,” the president said, his tone matter of fact. “Your father is not currently available to the CIA.”
What is he talking about?
“I’m afraid I don’t understand, Sir?”
“Your father is currently under investigation and will not be returning to the office for the foreseeable future.”
Oh, god, do they think I’m involved?
Guilt slammed into her. Her first thought should have been for her father and not for herself. Guilt was swiftly followed by confusion.
“What is he supposed to have done?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that,” the president said. “We have managed to keep it out of the press, and I would like to keep it that way until the investigations are complete.”
“Of course, Sir.”
Oh, Daddy, what did you do?
But she knew she wasn’t going to get any answers. If it was anyone else telling her to hand over the papers, she’d have told them to shove it. But that wasn’t exactly something one could tell the president. She reached for her rucksack and pulled it up onto her lap. “I have them here.” She glanced at Draven. “You will sign as witness that I am handing them to him?” She nodded toward Gunnar.
“Of course.”
“Smart.” The president nodded his approval. “Sign and stamp a receipt, Gunnar.”
Gunnar grabbed a sheet of paper from the printer. “Yes, Sir.”
Indy reached across the table. “Nope, not a handwritten receipt,” she said. “Type it up on the computer, and I want it emailed to my account, and to…” she glanced at Draven with an eyebrow raised in silent query and gave him a small smile in thanks when he nodded, “to Draven.”
Draven cleared his throat. “Send a copy of it to the main TOC email at Nemesis, too.” He reached for his phone. “I’ll let Trev know to expect it.”
“Anyone would think you guys don’t trust me,” Gunnar grumbled, but he minimized the screen after the president waved at him to do as she asked.
“I’m not feeling very trusting right now,” Indy said. “If my father is in trouble, I’m no good to him behind bars, am I?”
“Agreed.” Gunnar typed with his index fingers, scanned the screen, then jabbed his finger on a button and the printer behind him fired into life. He leaned back and grabbed the page, read it, then handed it to her. “Does this work?”
She read it and handed it to Draven. “What do you think.?”
He too read the page and nodded. “Sounds good to me, too.” He handed the page to Gunnar. “Send the email to Trev, and once he has it then you can sign this one and we hand over the papers.”
I freaking love you!
He was backing her all the way. She had been almost sure he would, but seeing it play out was such a relief. “What he said.”
She and Draven exchanged glances when Gunnar scrawled a signature on the end of the page and turned away to place it on the scanner.
She leaned in and whispered in his ear, “I’m doing the right thing—right?”
He nodded silently.
Thank God!
She’d figured she was, but having Draven confirm it was a relief. She’d heard so many stories about agents being burned by the CIA. If they survived, their lives were never the same again. Maybe it was time to go home and run the store with Lizz as she’d been promising her for years. “How do we clear my name?” She wasn’t sure who she was asking the question to, but with the president on video call, she wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to ask it. If anyone could override the CIA, it had to be POTUS… right?
“I’m sending through a notification that you were acting on my behalf,” the president said. “As soon as that works its way through the channels, you will be free and clear.”
“The second that happens…” She knew what needed to happen. She wasn’t entirely thrilled about it, but she knew it was the right decision. “…My resignation will be on the relevant desks the following morning.”
“Whoa.” Draven breathed. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” She knew this was the only way she’d ever be free. “My father is compromised, and there’s a whole host of agents who think I am in on it. Or who at the very least are following orders which say I am.” She stared at Draven, willing him to understand. “I won’t live my life looking over my shoulder waiting for someone to decide if I’m guilty of something else.”
And I won’t compromise your security clearance.
He squeezed her knee lightly and nodded. Thankfully, he didn’t try to change her mind. She might have been out of the country when whatever it was her father did happened. At least she thought she might have been. But she was done. Over it. Finished. If the president was clearing her name and letting her walk away without involving her, then her father could think she was letting him down or betraying him all he wanted. She never had, and would not, break the vows she’d made to her country. Walking away was the only way to ensure she didn’t have to choose between her father and her country. She figured they all knew it. The men were just too polite to say it outright.
Draven’s phone pinged, and she watched him open it and check the message. “Trev got the email, and it checks out.”
“Okay.” The contents of her stomach rose into the back of her throat, and she swallowed hard against the bile, but she did as she’d promised and handed over the package of papers she’d collected in Africa. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.”
She opened her mouth to protest when Gunnar immediately stood after taking them and left the room. It took everything she had to keep her mouth shut.
“He’ll be back.” Draven must be reading her mind. “He’s probably going to put them in a safe.”
“Okay.” She inhaled deeply through her nose and breathed out slowly through her mouth. Maybe if she did it often enough, she wouldn’t panic or freak out.
“India?”
“Yes, Sir, Mr. President?”
“I’ve just sent the notification to Langley that you were following my orders on a matter of national security and that you are to be removed from the most wanted lists, effective immediately.”
“I—ah—thank you, Mr. President.”
“You are welcome,” he replied. “Thank you, India, for your service to your country.”
“It was my honor.” What else was she supposed to say? Railing and crying about her service ending would make her look like an idiot. But damn it, it hurt. She’d given the CIA everything since she turned eighteen, and this was how they repaid her. “Will you grab me some paper, please?” she asked Draven. “I’ll write up my resignation letter right now.”
“Are you sure? You have a couple of hours.”
She shook her head. “No, I gave my word, and it’s better to just get it over with.”
He got to his feet and got some paper from the printer. “Ripping off the Band-Aid, huh?” He plucked a pen from the holder on Gunnar’s desk and handed both to her.
“Something like that.” Her pen hovered over the page and her mind went blank. “I don’t know what to write.”
“India.” The president called her attention back to the screen. “If I may offer a suggestion?”
“Of course.” She could hardly tell him ‘absolutely not,’ now could she?
“State your name, date of birth, agent number, and then ‘I hear by state that I have tendered my resignation to the President of the United States,’ on today’s date. Then something like the president has accepted or similar. Make it flowery, if you wish,” he said. “Have Gunnar and your man Draven witness it.”
“Thank you.” She placed the papers on the desk and carefully wrote out what he had suggested, filling in her date of birth and agent number before dropping a line and carefully writing out, “I, India Fox, have tendered my resignation to the President of the United States, which he has graciously accepted on today’s date. Does that work?”
“Yes, Ma’am, that’s perfect.”
She read over it twice, checking for any stray commas or misspellings, then scribbled her signature underneath it. Indy handed the page to Draven, who in turn scanned it and scribbled his signature under hers and dated it just as Gunnar returned to the room.
“What’s going on?”
“Sign and date Indy’s resignation, will you, please?” Draven tapped his finger on the blank space under his signature.
“Sure.” Gunnar did as he was asked, then rounded his desk and picked up a stamp. He inked it and placed it just next to his signature.
From where she sat, she could make out the barbed wire encircling four X’s with an eagle over the letters. The Four X’s seal was almost as solid as one from POTUS. It would have to do.
“I’ll scan this and send it to you, Mr. President. I’ll also send it to Trev.” He glanced at her. “Do you have an email you want me to send it to for your records?”
“No, not right now that you can have.." She nodded to the paper in his hand. “I’ll take a hard copy and Draven will make sure I get an electronic copy.”
“Okay.” Gunnar sat back at his desk. “I’m emailing those now.”
“I’ll confirm with Trev.” Draven tapped a message into his phone and almost immediately got a response back.
Draven: There’s an email coming for India from Gunnar McKinley. Can you forward it to her?
Trev: Got it. Same email as before?
“Same email as before?” Draven showed her the phone.
She nodded. “Yes.”
Draven: Yes, same as before. Copy me in too, please.
Trev: Done.
Draven scrolled through his screens, bringing up his inbox and opening the message from Trev. He scrolled down before showing it to her. “Got it.”
“Thank you.” She really hoped he didn’t think she was being short with him. It was hard enough to keep herself together while this meeting, if you could call it a meeting, went on.
“You’re welcome.”
Are we done?
They better be done, she needed to find a corner and sulk for about ten years, then she might be okay. Her whole career path had changed in an instant. Somehow, she made it through the small talk. Mostly by making noncommittal noises, but she did it. By the time the president had ended the call, she folded her fingers together, mostly to stop them from shaking. Indy squeezed her eyes shut, blinking back tears of frustration because she knew Draven and Gunnar would assume she was upset.
Breathe through it like a boss.
You still have a business to go back to.
And you aren’t running from the CIA.
Bright sides and silver linings.
Bright sides.
Silver. Linings.