“Agent Hauser, this is Wyatt Magnusson. You’re on speaker with me, Alistair, Gabrielle, Karleen, Lyssa Westridge from the Shifter Council, and Sloane Martinez.”
“That… is an impressive audience. Why do I feel like I should be afraid?”
I chuckled. I couldn’t help myself. “I don’t know. Does your deputy director have a history of shooting the messenger?”
There was a slight pause, then, “Well, that doesn’t fill me with happiness and joy. Why am I going to be risking my deputy director’s wrath? Especially considering how many steps there are between me and him in the chain of command?”
“Because I need to speak with the United States government on behalf of the Shifter Nation of North America, and our treaty specifies the Secretary of State as our contact point. However, I don’t have any contacts in the State Department.”
More silence.
“How bad is this going to bite me, Wyatt? I have quite a few years until retirement and career goals I’d rather not jeopardize.”
I sighed. “It shouldn’t come back to bite you at all, Winnifred; I’m just looking for help to make contact with the State Department. The issue will probably come back to your desk eventually, but not in a ‘bite you’ situation. If it does come back to your desk, I’d imagine it would be a new case for you, but the conversation needs to start with the Secretary of State.”
Silence dominated the call for several moments until we heard a heavy sigh.
“Okay,” Hauser said. “Part of me quails at the idea of passing you up the chain without knowing what I’m passing up the chain, but at the same time, I’m intimately familiar with the concept of need-to-know. Give me a moment, and I’ll give you his office number.”
Another pause, though much shorter, and Hauser rattled off a phone number that several around the table were quick to write down.
“Thanks, Winnifred,” I said after confirming the number. “I appreciate this.”
“You’re welcome, Wyatt… just try not to get me fired.”
13
Washington, D.C., was one of the many places around the country that I had always wanted to visit. As I looked out across the skyline from the balcony of my hotel room, I wondered if I’d have enough time—or be in the mood—to see a few sights around the city after the conversation with the Secretary of State.
The Shifter Nation of North America did not exactly have ‘normalized’ relations with the United States government. Whether it was in spite of—or because of—the fact that most shifters within the USA considered themselves American citizens was anyone’s guess. The last time the Shifter Nation had formal relations or communications with the United States government, the country’s executive branch still had a War Department.
I couldn’t help but feel the issue of correcting Sloane’s situation was going to be a tough row to hoe. I didn’t even know if the current Secretary of State knew she was the point of contact for the Shifter Nation, let alone knew that shifters existed. Back when I first became a shifter, either Gabrielle or Alistair told me that every branch of the US military except the Air Force had shifter-only units, which implied the government was aware of us.
But to be honest, that only raised more questions in my mind. I mean… if the government knew about shifters to the point that most of the major military branches all had shifter-only units, why was the idea of Sloane being an avian shifter so important to that black ops group? Were they somehow cut off from the government as a whole for however long the government had organized shifter-only units? Or were those units compartmentalized within the military to the point that very few people knew about them?
The situation was thoroughly frustrating. I felt like I was supposed to draw a map of a landmass from orbit… with the entire planet shrouded in fog.
Slender arms wrapped around me as Gabrielle said, “Hey… are you okay? You’ve kinda turned into the strong, silent type lately. Is it the ‘Consul’ thing?”
Heh… if only. “Not exclusively. I don’t like not knowing what kind of situation I’m walking into, but I don’t know of any way to get the information I need without walking into the situation. Plus, I have no training in diplomacy or statesmanship or anything like that, and I’ll be face-to-face with people who make a career of it. I would say the Council threw me to the wolves, but I’m not afraid of any wolf except Karleen.”
“Damn right,” the woman in question opined, mere heartbeats before she wrapped her arms around me.
“I guess my main concern is making some huge mistake or embarrassing the shifters. I don’t want to be the guy who caused a war between the shifters and the United States.”
Gabrielle tiptoed to kiss my cheek. Karleen apparently didn’t want to be left out and kissed my other cheek.
“Wyatt, you’re letting your fears run away with you,” Gabrielle remarked as she and Karleen rubbed my back and chest. “Yes, it will be apparent to the Secretary of State right now that you’re new to all this, but forty years from now when we’re back here again over something, the Secretary of State then won’t have any idea you were nervous now. That is one of the major advantages shifters have over humans or even Magi. We don’t die from old age… or even disease. It gives us the potential to establish a level of continuity in government unheard of in the human world. Just look how the pendulum of American politics swings from one extreme to the other; the two parties care far more about achieving their goals or denying the other party their goals than serving the American people. I know Alphas who have led their territories for longer than the United States has existed as a country. I’m not saying shifters are perfect or better than humans, just that we have the opportunity to create greater stability. Keep that in mind when you’re meeting with the deputy director tomorrow, and again whenever he can get you in with the Secretary of State.”
Karleen poked me in the ribs and added her two cents, “What she said.”
I pulled my arms free of them so I could gather them close and tried kissing both of them at the same time. I’m not sure how successful I was, but they seemed to appreciate the thought.
“I have no idea what I did to deserve you two.” I then gave each a kiss of their own.
“We feel the same way,” Karleen replied.
I fought a yawn as we followed our escort to meet with the Deputy Director of the Paranormal Branch. We must’ve made for quite a sight, because almost everyone stopped to watch us pass. Or maybe it was just the gorgeous women walking with me.
Vicki walked on my left while Gabrielle enjoyed pride of place on my right. Karleen and Lyssa followed us. I wasn’t sure why Vicki had asked to come with us and present the Magi’s issue after we discussed the situation with Sloane, but I saw no problem with that. If nothing else, it would present a united front to the Secretary of State. I hoped we didn’t need that, but between the five of us, I couldn’t imagine anything we couldn’t handle.
Our escort delivered us to a door with no placard and led us inside. He introduced us to the receptionist and wasted no time in vacating the area. The receptionist was a young man who greeted us with an open smile and quickly notified the deputy director we had arrived. There wasn’t even time to sit before the receptionist ushered us into his office.
A man on the upper end of middle age stood as we entered and walked around what looked to be a handmade oak desk. Pictures of the man and various public figures I recognized lined one wall, while family photos decorated another.
“Alpha Wyatt,” he said as he extended his hand, “it’s a pleasure to meet you at last. I’m Lowell Nathanson, Deputy Director of the Paranormal Branch of my agency.”
“Sir, this is my sister Vicki, who has accompanied us on Magi business, since the Secretary of State is the point of contact for their treaty as well. These ladies are Gabrielle Hassan, Karleen Vesper, and Lyssa Westridge. Lyssa is one of the feline representatives to the Shifter Council.”
Nathanson shook hands with each in turn as I introduced them. When he
reached Lyssa, she was quick to say, “Please, do not consider my presence as anything other than an advisor. The Council has invested Alpha Wyatt as the first Consul of the Shifter Nation, and as such, he has our complete trust to handle any and all matters pertaining to our treaty.”
“Consul of the Shifter Nation, you say? Is that in the diplomatic or Roman tradition?”
Lyssa’s smile went so far beyond predatory that I feared she might be picturing the deputy director with a side of ketchup and mustard, or perhaps steak sauce. “Why, both, of course.”
That rattled the deputy director. He did an admirable job of hiding it, but four of his five guests could hear his heartbeat. No matter what a person says or shows through an expression, the heartbeat never lies.
“I see. He must be something special indeed to go from a new shifter to Alpha of Godwin County to Consul of the Shifter Nation in the span of three months. Please, let’s be seated.”
“You have no idea how special he is,” Lyssa replied, sounding entirely too much like a purr to me.
We all assumed our seats. Vicki and I sat in the two guest chairs I suspected were his regular guest chairs as the ladies picked their seats from the three chairs around mine.
As soon as we all had seats, Nathanson began, “I have already contacted the Secretary of State and arranged a meeting. Since no one likes surprised predators close at hand, I feel I should inform you that she asked me to attend the meeting as well, as I have more immediate experience with you and shifters in general. I gave serious consideration to calling either Agent Hauser or Agent Burke to D.C. as they have even more direct and recent experience with shifters, but the Secretary felt a teleconference would suffice.” Nathanson paused for a moment, then grimaced. “I should also warn you that, government politics being what they are, the Attorney General—being my cabinet-level supervisor—will also attend the meeting.”
“You are not enthused about that,” I remarked, stating the obvious. “Why?”
Nathanson looked toward his wall of family photos for several moments in silence before turning back to us. “Because he has stated at multiple points in the past that anything paranormal is a bunch of ‘cockamamie folderol’ and having a Paranormal Branch of this agency—especially at our funding level—is beyond absurd.”
“So he doesn’t even believe Magi exist?” Vicki asked.
Nathanson snorted a chuckle. “No. Shortly after he took office, someone came to give him a briefing on the true state of the world… to include all the different groups of magic-users, shifters, and everyone else… and he promptly ran the poor soul out of his office. He said something to the effect of having no time for a such a fraud and pack of lies perpetrated on the federal government. To be quite honest, I’m just as glad he doesn’t believe in Magi, because I’m not confident that he wouldn’t come down on the ‘suffer not a witch to live’ side of the matter.”
Vicki sighed. “Oh, dear… one of those.”
“Yes,” Nathanson agreed. “I’m afraid so.”
“And there’s no way to keep him out of the meeting?” I asked.
Nathanson shook his head. “Not really. I could pass a request to the Secretary of State that he be excluded based on his statements and conduct in the past, but I’d rather not do that, since he’s a ‘shoot the messenger’ type. Especially since he’d have no way of venting his spleen on any of you. Matter of fact, I probably shouldn’t have said anything at all, but like I said, I know who we’re dealing with. I wanted no part of being in the same room with surprised predators who might possibly feel threatened. That just doesn’t seem like a wise idea to me.”
I fought the urge to laugh. “I may be new at this, but even I’m aware it wouldn’t be diplomatic to eat the Attorney General, no matter the level of provocation. Out of everyone who will be in that room, you have no reason to fear us.”
“I appreciate that. In regards to the meeting, the Secretary has cleared her afternoon schedule tomorrow and has offered the use of a car and escort. If you accept the offer, don’t worry that you’ll be forced to ride with the Attorney General. The Director and I will have that… privilege.”
Never one to make unilateral decisions, I looked to Vicki, who nodded. Then turned to my ladies, who nodded as well. I returned my focus to the deputy director. “Please, express our acceptance of—and appreciation for—the car and escort.”
“I will be happy to do so. Where should I have them sent?”
Gabrielle was quick to offer up the name of our hotel, and Nathanson nodded his recognition. From there, the meeting became more of a general conversation for a short time until it was politic for us to depart. I personally didn’t understand all the nuances of it, but the ladies seemed aware and comfortable with it. Maybe I’d pick up on it with time and experience, or maybe not.
We spent the next morning in preparation for the meeting. Vicki spun us up suits and dresses… well, suit and dresses… and we went through everything multiple times. None of us wanted to get anything wrong.
At the appointed time, we trooped downstairs to meet the car that would take us to the State Department. Two people in suits greeted us as we stepped off the elevator, introducing themselves and leading us outside. Two blacked-out SUVs framed our conveyance as it sat in front of our hotel’s entrance. The car was not quite a limousine, at least it wasn’t a stretch, and I tried not to gape at the thickness of the doors when the gentleman stepped forward and opened it for us. I gestured for the ladies to precede me, then joined them. The gentleman closed the door and walked back to the chase SUV as the lady who met us opened the front passenger door of our car and slid inside.
Our shifter hearing was such that—even through the privacy partition—we heard the woman inform everyone that we were ready to go. Like a well-oiled machine, the drivers put us in motion, and I watched the streets roll by as we left the hotel.
* * *
“What are the chances that we’ll be able to leave the hotel now and not attract all kinds of attention?” I asked a few minutes into the drive.
My traveling companions offered a round of chuckles in reply.
“It would be one thing to be picked up in an official State Department vehicle, but to be dropped off by one as well?” Lyssa remarked. “If you were hoping to be just another face in the hotel after this, I’m afraid your hopes will be dashed.”
“Any luck getting one of those service-animal vests for my feline form? Maybe we could tour the sights that way.”
All of the ladies—even my sister—erupted in full-throated laughter, which was my intention. The idea of a Smilodon walking around the National Mall on a leash and wearing one of those vests was just too absurd. Vicki’s expression as she regained her composure told me I gave her an idea for a future gift, but that was okay. She hadn’t pranked me in a while and was probably experiencing withdrawal symptoms to some extent.
“What are the odds they wired the passenger area for sound?” Vicki asked, and Karleen, Gabrielle, and Lyssa promptly shook their heads ‘no.’
Karleen said, “The only electronics I can hear are beyond the privacy partition, and even an unpowered microphone creates a tiny electrical hum that we can hear as it generates the electrical pulses. Now, there’s nothing saying they don’t have a laser mic pointed at the privacy partition, assuming the partition isn’t so thick it completely deadens sound vibrations.”
Conversation moved on to other topics, including the places everyone wanted to visit in the city. It wasn’t until a lull developed that I glanced outside and felt like the bottom dropped out of my stomach.
Our little three-vehicle motorcade had turned into the White House.
“Uhm… I thought we were meeting with the Secretary of State,” I said, interrupting the ladies’ discussion.
Lyssa nodded. “That’s the plan. Why?”
Her back was to our direction of travel, so she couldn’t see where we were headed. Karleen and Gabrielle did, though, and both muttered variations on
the theme of “Oh, shit.”
Just as Lyssa and Vicki spun to look out the partition, it came down, and the agent in the passenger seat leaned into view, saying, “Apologies for the surprise. Your visit has been reclassified as an official working visit, and the President requested that we include her in the meeting.”
The ladies all looked to me, silently waiting for my response to guide theirs. In the end, I simply shrugged. “Oh, well… at least you didn’t tell us up front so we sweated meeting the President for the ride over. I suppose that’s something of a kindness. Deputy Director Nathanson and his party are already aware?”
“Yes, sir,” the woman replied. “In fact, they arrived just a few minutes ago with the Secretary of State.”
I felt a swell of gratitude that no one considered this a full state visit. I had no wish for all that pomp and pageantry.
“Say… are you allowed to tell us why the visit was reclassified?”
The agent pursed her lips and looked out the windshield for a couple seconds before turning back to us. “I probably shouldn’t, but since it’s been almost eighty years since the Magi Assembly and the Shifter Nation communicated with the government, the Secretary of State brought the matter to the President’s attention. The President promptly expressed interest in meeting you, which led to the reclassification.”
I smelled a rat. “I would think such a dramatic shuffling of the President’s schedule would take place as far in advance as possible. Had the meeting already been reclassified when we spoke with Deputy Director Nathanson?”
The agent adopted an expression of such pure, uncontrived innocence that I felt Vicki should take notes. “I’m sure I couldn’t say, sir.”
The more I thought about it, though, I had a really difficult time feeling offended. I mean, sure… it was unlikely they would’ve sandbagged a representative of a foreign human country like this, but at the same time, we weren’t human. I wasn’t sure even President Roosevelt met Magi or shifters during the war era, so this was probably something of a singular experience for President Williams.
Roc Page 11