“He seemed like a nice guy.” Betsy was nearly squealing with excitement. “I’m glad you two met up again.”
“We’re very well acquainted now,” Elle agreed.
When she was chatting with Tina and Marni on a three-way internet call that evening, Tina said, “This guy sounds like a serious prospect.”
“Go girl!” Marni cried out, waving around a bottle of something that Elle guessed had a generous portion of alcohol.
“I guess he is,” Elle agreed. “We’re having fun.” She would not talk about Preston.
“So is he more or less fun than Preston?” Marni asked.
Tina rolled her eyes while shaking her head and laughing. “It’s obvious,” she told Marni, “you’re feeling no pain.” She focused on Elle. “Don’t pay her any attention.”
“It’s a valid question!” Marni insisted. She looked like she was trying to sit up but just ended up laying down on her other side, still in view of the webcam. “You must…” she tried to look directly into the webcam, but her drooping eyelids limited her success, “always advance, Elle. Adam was a nice guy. Preston was a hot fling. Now this Lyle…?”
If there was anything Elle hoped she had learned, it was not to move too fast. Although she kept telling herself Preston was a fling, her heart hadn’t gotten the message. This time, she was going to keep her eyes open. “Lyle is fun, and maybe something more will develop. We’ll see.”
Tina nodded. “Perfect.”
After getting off the internet call with Marni and Tina, sitting with the TV on for background noise, Elle found her mind wandering to her parents. She had looked up stage one breast cancer on the internet, and it was like her mother had said: the long-term prognosis was excellent. What the whole thing made clear to her, however, was how little she knew about what was going on in their lives: not unlike how little they knew about hers. She had envisioned herself as going off to live her life as an adult, just like they did theirs, with minimal contact, but her mother had had cancer, and she didn’t even know. Before she could think about it any further, Elle found herself calling her father. She should try to keep up with him at least a little.
“Hey, Ellie, how are you doing?” Her father sounded relaxed and upbeat.
“Good. Everything okay?” Like that was going to get her the answers she wanted. Her habit of making plans before doing things had flown out the window in the last few months.
“Why do you always ask that?” He laughed.
Elle’s parents weren’t on the best of terms, either: she didn’t even know if her mother would want her father to know about her breast cancer diagnosis, so it was better for her to just keep her mouth shut. No need to cause more drama between them. With effort, she kept her voice casual. “Just checking: it’s been a while since we talked. What’s going on now that your summer vacation is over?”
“I’m going to be in DC later this week on business, in your neck of the woods.”
“What kind of business brings you to DC?”
“Oh, a few different things. There’s something unusual going on with a few of the subsidiaries and their transactions and such. I have a few meetings scheduled.”
Problems with transactions? Mason had said her father wasn’t involved, yet he kept asking if she had spoken to him. Was her father more involved in all this than he was letting on? Mason would tell her that, right?
“What’s going on with the transactions?” Elle tried to keep her voice casual.
“Some kind of disruptions for reasons that don’t make any sense. I’m being sent to get more information about it, hopefully take care of whatever the problem is.”
If they didn’t make sense to her father, then that would mean he didn’t have anything to do with this, right? The CIA placed a big emphasis on loyalty. Anyone would question the loyalty of someone when a parent was involved. If her father was involved with terrorists… would she tell? Why the hell would they hire her, even on a probationary basis, if they thought she had any types of ties with terrorists? This job was making her too damn paranoid.
“Think you can make it to dinner?” her father asked.
Elle had been meaning to get up to the Library of Congress anyway: the supervisor she had up there had been out of the office for June and July but wanted to meet now that she was back at work. Raleigh didn’t really need her in Norfolk so there was nothing to stop her from going up there later this week. “Name the time and the place,” she said, her voice light.
After getting off the phone, Elle realized this was yet another new experience. She and her father were having dinner like two adults. This was something: he hadn’t come to visit her at college even once in four years.
***
The next morning as Elle got ready for work she started thinking again about Mason asking about her father. He had said the agency had no interest in him, but she couldn’t help wondering: had his questions been about more than just checking up on what she did? She saw a chance to try to find out.
“Mason Charleston.”
“Mason, it’s Elle- Elle Paquet.”
After a pause, Elle continued. “How’s it going tracking the targets?”
“In progress,” Mason replied. The evenness of his voice seemed to indicate he was hiding something, although Elle wasn’t even sure why she thought that. Was his voice ever anything besides even?
“I got a call from my father last night. He’s coming to DC for some meetings.”
Once it became clear he wasn’t going to respond, she spoke again. “Is that something that would be of interest?”
Another pause. “Are you asking as his daughter or as an associate of the agency?”
A simple question that didn’t have a simple answer. “Does it matter? I thought the agency had no interest in my father.”
“Ms. Paquet, you only need to concern yourself about your assigned tasks.”
Elle swallowed. Talk about a non-answer. Her father was many things but a terrorist? “You had me secretly upload a program to his company laptop.”
“And you successfully completed your op.”
“With the understanding that you just needed the access to his company’s network.” It felt as if a stone was growing in her stomach, getting heavier with each word she spoke.
“I keep forgetting, Ms. Paquet, you don’t know how this works.”
Elle felt as if her heart started skipping but not in a good way.
“I give you an assignment. You complete said assignment. That’s it. That’s how it works.”
How it works? “Members of the CIA aren’t supposed to be asked to spy on their family.” She tried to keep her voice from shaking. “That was supposed to be how it works.”
Mason sighed. “Do we have to discuss this again?”
He wasn’t telling her the CIA had no interest in her father anymore. “I secretly uploaded a program to my own father’s computer!” She couldn’t stop her voice from rising.
“Whom you didn’t even feel comfortable visiting.”
Elle winced at the sting of his observation. At least he couldn’t see her. “But I did it. After you told me the agency had no interest in him.”
When he didn’t speak, she continued. “I’m a member of the intelligence community, so I’m asking: does the agency now have an interest in him?”
“You don’t have the clearance to know the targets of interest.”
“I had the clearance to go on a field op, despite being an analyst.” She wanted to kick something- kick him- but she needed to stay calm. Her father couldn’t be a terrorist. Could he?
“This is how it works, Ms. Paquet. We can discuss it further at your ninety day review. Meanwhile, you can consider if you really understand what it means to be associated with the agency.” With that, Mason hung up.
Elle resisted the urge to throw her cell up against the wall. It wouldn’t hurt Mason any. She needed to find out what the hell was going on, and it looked like she was going to have to go to the source:
her father.
Chapter Twenty-Two
As Elle drove on the interstate (first west on 64 and then north on 95), she thought through what she was doing. If anyone wanted to know why she was in DC, she had the excuse of her Library of Congress supervisor. She hadn’t been able to get in touch with him to set up a meeting, but she could say she was trying to, since he had reached out to her. At least that was covered if Mason had questions.
But what would she ask her father to find out what he was up to? Obviously just asking him if he was involved in terrorist activities wouldn’t get her far.
She knew her father was ambitious. He had to earn a good living for the succubus he married. And he was no stranger to “playing the game,” as he liked to put it. She couldn’t remember him ever talking about being a patriot or what it felt like to be an American. That just wasn’t him. But it didn’t mean he was a terrorist, either.
Elle got a room at a local hotel. She had a red cocktail dress Marni had insisted she buy on one of their shopping trips in Norfolk. It would have to do for this, since her father was undoubtedly staying in some upscale hotel. Knowing him, they would have dinner at a restaurant either in the hotel or nearby. She wondered if he was being watched. The CIA couldn’t watch him, not on domestic soil, but she knew all too well the FBI and CIA worked together.
Was the FBI watching her father? And if they were, what would Mason say once they identified her? Well, she had told him about her father calling her. It wasn’t like he had told her she shouldn’t go or anything. And he had pretty much refused to say whether or not he had become a target, so it wasn’t like she was knowingly having dinner with a terrorist. Which she wasn’t. She was having dinner with her father, who was not a terrorist.
Thinking it all through was enough to make her head pound.
When she called her father, sure enough, they arranged to meet at his hotel. She found him sitting in the cocktail lounge section of the restaurant with Kagan, of all people, who gave her one of his gleaming smiles as his eyes took in her sleek hair piled atop her head and traveled down to her heels.
“Finally giving contacts a try?” her father asked.
“What?” Elle blinked before realizing he was referring to the absence of glasses. Losing those things had hardly taken any thought. “I gave the lasers a try.” Of course he wouldn’t remember that she had given contact lenses several tries: her eyes just never got used to them. It had been one of the major disappointments of her adolescence.
Kagan rose and took her hand in his much bigger one. “You look lovely,” he said, raising her hand to brush his lips across the top. His lips set off tingles that were almost like electric shocks.
Elle forced a smile. “Um- thank you.”
“An adult Little Red Riding Hood,” Kagan continued, still not letting go of her hand. Elle didn’t want to be rude and pull her hand back- this was one of her father’s business associates- but the flutter of anticipation she felt around him was a bit overwhelming. She felt as if she was in danger of short-circuiting.
Her father rescued her, pulling her into a hug. “Good to see you,” he said, giving her a squeeze before letting her go. Her father wasn’t the most affectionate man. Elle had a sneaking suspicion he hugged her as much as to get her away from Kagan as to greet her. Whatever the reason, she had no problems hugging him back.
“I’m glad we could get together.” She found she truly meant it.
Her father turned to Kagan. “I’ll check into what we discussed and get back to you. Whatever’s going on, we’ll figure it out.”
Figure it out? Was Kagan the CIA’s target? Maybe just him?
Kagan nodded his head, seeming to understand the dismissal. “I’ll continue investigating on my end as well. My associates are very eager to fix this issue.” He gave Elle a nod with another searing once-over. “Wonderful seeing you again.”
Elle nodded back. “Same here.” She let her father lead her over to the maître d, who led them to a table. They perused their menus in silence. She sneaked a couple of glances at her father; he looked the same as always. He didn’t seem too worried about whatever he and Kagan had been talking about. Were they discussing the transactions the CIA had intercepted? Whitman-Williams Holdings consisted of hundreds of subsidiaries. It was entirely possible, Elle realized, that whatever they had been discussing had nothing to do with the CIA. She needed to keep some perspective here.
Could she interpret Mason’s refusal to answer as tacit confirmation? That was the question.
Once they placed their orders, her father focused on her. His eyes looked a little tired. “So how’s work?”
Elle took a sip of her water. She had ended up ordering a soft drink. She may be an adult, but it felt a little too weird to drink alcohol in front of her father, although she had had a glass of wine at some of his garden parties once she became of age. Sitting one-on-one, though, it just felt odd.
“Good.” It seemed almost comical compared to the truth, but she had a clear opening. “How about you? Did you take care of the problem you came here for?”
Her father seemed to consider this, but she couldn’t help but notice again he didn’t seem too bothered. “It’s more of an issue for Kagan than for me. The loss to us as a whole is pretty minor, but he and his partners are taking some serious hits so…” He shrugged. “I’ll see what I can do.” He leaned back, relaxing. “How did everything work out with the France trip?”
Did his gaze sharpen a little? Jesus, now she was getting paranoid. It was a reasonable question for him to ask. “I did what they wanted.”
“So you played the game.”
Playing the game. She was an adult now: what was up with all the references to playing? Between her father and Lyle… okay, she didn’t want to think of her father and Lyle in the same way, even if it was just in reference to a metaphor. She needed to focus. “Yep.” It was a relief when the server brought their drinks.
“And you lived to tell the tale,” he said after taking a sip of his Scotch.
Elle laughed. “I did.” She had to figure out a way to find out what her father was up to. She was a direct communicator, but she couldn’t just ask him if he was a terrorist. Or if he was involved in illegal activities. Then a way to broach it struck her. “How do you know how far to go?”
Her father gave her an inquisitive look. “How far to go?”
“When you have to play the game,” Elle took a deep swallow of her drink and let the fizz of the carbonated beverage flare up and then fade before continuing, “and you’re asked to do things you may not agree with, how do you know how far to go?” She raised her eyes to meet his directly.
If he felt uncomfortable with her question, he didn’t show it. “Well,” her father seemed to be genuinely considering his response, but in a thoughtful way, not a sneaky way, “you have to determine what the potential payoff is, weigh it against the risk.”
That sounded exactly like something she would expect him to say. Nothing unusual. And nothing to indicate he was involved in terrorist activities. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to her next question, but she had to ask." How do you know if the risk is worth the payoff?”
Her father took another sip of his drink as he pondered her question. “It comes down to whether or not the payoff is greater than the risk.” He eyed her directly. “I could probably answer this better with some specifics.”
If only she could give him some. She forced a smile. “I- there’s no specific situation. I’m just- just trying to figure some things out, that’s all.” She let out a deep breath, forcing her shoulders down, before meeting his steady gaze again. “Is it possible for the risk to be too great for the payoff?”
Her father shrugged. “Of course.”
“Like when?” She couldn’t hide the hint of eagerness in her voice. See, her father had morals. He wouldn’t do just anything for money.
Her father chuckled. “What in the world is going on at the Library of Congress?” Wh
en she just kept looking at him, he shrugged again, taking another sip of his drink. “Well, in my line of work, the risk is something like losing a profitable business or severing a lucrative business relationship: something like that.”
How did she ask if committing treason against the United States would qualify? “Anything else?” Elle wanted to roll her eyes at her own ineptitude. Yeah, that query would just get him to spill the beans. She needed training for this.
Her father raised a brow. “Nothing that comes to mind.” He chuckled but the suspicion in his eyes was clear. “What is going on at your job?”
She forced a laugh. This wasn’t going anywhere, and dammit, she didn’t have a plan. If she didn’t shut this down, she would end up committing treason herself by violating her confidentiality agreement. “Nothing, Dad.” She took a deep swallow of her drink. “It’s the Library of Congress.”
Their food arrived. After eating for a few minutes, he said, “There’s something important you need to remember, Eleanor.”
She looked up at him. Whatever pronouncement he was about to deliver was something he meant deeply: she could hear it in his voice.
“You’re an adult now. Whether you choose to play the game or not, you’re responsible for your decisions.” He gave her a grin. “But ultimately, you do call the shots.”
***
Once they stopped talking about work, they enjoyed a pleasant dinner. She hugged him good-night at the elevators, assuring him she would catch a cab to her hotel rather than walk, and then headed through the massive lobby. Kagan was just walking out of what looked like a lounge just inside the front door of the lobby. She had to pass him to go through the revolving glass door, so she gave him a smile as she approached. He was intimidating, but he was also alluring.
“The surprise daughter,” he said, his eyes again giving her the once-over. “Looking like an adult version of Little Red Riding Hood.” His eyes took in the red dress. If it was possible, she thought his eyes might have peeled off her dress.
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