Commitment

by Healy, Nancy Ann

  Alex looked to the ceiling and tightened the grip she had on her nose, gradually moving her fingers to her temples. “After the admiral spoke to her?” she asked. Krause nodded. “Shit. Any idea who she was seeing?” Krause shook his head. “Fabulous,” Alex said sarcastically.

  “Alex, if someone in that facility is Claire’s contact…”

  “Fallon is compromised,” she finished his thought. “We need to pull him.”

  “I’m not sure that’s the answer,” he said cautiously.

  “You want to try and leverage this?” she asked.

  “Think about it. They don’t know that we know.”

  “You can’t be sure of that,” Alex said.

  “No, but you can’t be certain that they do know. And, Alex, if we pull him now, we might make it worse for…”

  Alex hated to agree, but Krause was right. Pulling Brian Fallon now might not only tip their hand and compromise their efforts, in might put her former partner at greater risk. “Any ideas?” she asked.

  “None that I could call concrete.”

  “Whoever it is; they have to be at a high level,” she observed.

  “I agree,” Krause said. “I needed you to know before I head to France. In case…”

  Alex nodded her understanding. “Krause?”

  “What?”

  “Let’s have Brian bring this information to Tate.”

  Jonathan Krause’s expression immediately gave away his surprise. Alex had always shown great restraint where Agent Brain Fallon was concerned. She was protective. He agreed wholeheartedly with her assessment of the situation, but he wondered why she would suddenly shift so drastically. “Alex, you and I both know Tate is agency. He may be at the FBI, but we don’t know what his allegiance is.”

  “So, you don’t agree?” Alex asked with the raise of her brow.

  “I didn’t say that. Assistant Director Tate is still an unidenti-fied entity. It’s a risk. A risk to Fallon. Why now?”

  Alex looked toward the kitchen and closed her eyes. She exhaled forcefully and returned her attention to the man seated next to her. “We both feel it,” she said. “This volcano is going to erupt at any moment. If Joshua Tate is the friend he has suggested in the past, well….maybe, just maybe he will prove to be a valuable resource; at least for Fallon.”

  “If he’s not?”

  Alex nodded. “Then, if we play our cards right; he leads us down the path we have been searching for.”

  “You want to spy on the spy,” Krause chuckled. “Fallon will be at greater risk either way.”

  “I know,” Alex said. “We don’t have a choice. Maybe Callier can…”

  “I will press Edmond this time,” Krause said. “We can’t go to OP TECH with this one. Not as usual. Don’t put Tate in play until I speak with Edmond. Perhaps that will give us a clearer direction.”

  “You trust him?” Alex asked.

  “I trust you,” Krause deadpanned. “Getting Fallon killed is not on my to-do list.”

  Alex nodded again. “Is he still tailing Brackett?” Krause confirmed the question with a smirk. “Good. Any more news on that Cesium?”

  “No, but the admiral’s plan worked, Brackett led us at least part way down the path we needed to find,” Krause said. He noted the pensive expression on Alex’s face and the way her thumb pressed into her temple. “What?” he asked.

  “We can’t wait to put Tate in play,” she sighed. “If whoever Brackett went to….Krause, if they suspect we know….anything...Brackett could be their decoy.”

  That thought had crossed Jonathan Krause’s mind as well. Hearing Alex verbalize made it real. “Are you thinking of involving Taylor?” he asked. “Fallon will need help if he hopes to plant anything at all on Tate,” he said.

  Alex closed her eyes. Michael Taylor was one of her closest friends. In this new life, she was reluctant to involve him, for a host of reasons. While she was certain that Michael Taylor suspected her continued involvement; officially she had left intelligence circles. She was hesitant to give any definitive indication otherwise. “What about Jane?” she suggested. Jane Merrow seemed the safest option. She had the contacts, including her brother General Waters. “Maybe Matt can…”

  Krause agreed. “I’ll make the call before I leave.”

  “PANCAKES!” an excited seven-year-old called.

  “Alex?” Krause grabbed hold of his partner’s hand. Alex turned. “It’s someone at that…”

  “I know,” Alex said. Whoever Brackett had visited, it was someone they knew intimately. Neither Krause nor Alex had ever seen Claire Brackett anywhere near the Baltimore facility. Whoever Brackett’s contact was, he or she likely knew the whereabouts of both Agent Toles and Agent Krause. It increased the likelihood that it was someone in their loop. Alex had experienced her father’s betrayal; little could surprise her now. “We’ll find out,” she said. “Let’s go. Double agents will be the least of your worries if my mother’s pancakes get cold.” Krause chuckled. The absurdity in life could be unnerving. It was absurd. One minute his life consisted of issues that could lead to massive loss of life, the beginnings of a war, the oppression or enslavement of thousands of people, and the next he was discussing breakfast food. Alex caught the glint in his eye. “Madness always looks better after pancakes,” she winked.

  Sunday, December 7th

  Cassidy sat on the couch sipping her tea, watching as Alex strung lights around the Christmas tree that Dylan had chosen. He was prattling on about Santa Claus visiting in a few weeks, and Cassidy found herself pondering how many more Christmases she would get to enjoy that innocence. She was feeling the most relaxed that she had in weeks, and she was content just to sit back and take in the scene before her. “Penny for your thoughts,” Helen whispered, taking a set next to her daughter-in-law.

  Cassidy smiled at the older woman. “I was just wondering how many more Christmases we will get to bake cookies for Santa and leave carrots for Rudolph,” she answered.

  “It does pass quickly,” Helen mused. “Alexis was only Dylan’s age when she put the pieces together.” Helen laughed at the memory. “She was always unbelievably curious. Needed to understand how Santa could fly a sleigh with reindeer.” Cassidy chuckled, not surprised that Alex would see even the magical myth of Santa as a puzzle to solve. Helen continued as she watched Alex coach Dylan on the correct way to position lights on the large tree. “But, she never said anything. Nicky, he believed until he was nine. Alexis convinced him Santa was real every year. One year, she was about ten, I think…so Nicky was six….I heard her get out of bed very late. I saw her leaning out her window. I couldn’t imagine what she was doing with the window open in December. The next morning she woke Nicky up all excited to show him the glitter the reindeers had left on the awning below her window.” Cassidy listened to the sweet story and glanced over to catch her wife whispering in Dylan’s ear. “I would imagine Dylan will be the same with whoever might come along,” Helen suggested.

  “I hope so,” Cassidy said quietly.

  Helen patted the younger woman’s knee. “I would count on it. And, if Alexis has anything to say about it; I’m sure Dylan has a few years left in him,” she winked.

  The rest of the afternoon was enjoyable. Cassidy had to admit that she was tired of hearing Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer, but the song seemed to bring endless laughter from both her son and her wife. It was a small price to pay for the sound that she had missed over the last few weeks and months. By eight o’clock, Dylan had become punchy. He was overtired and continued to fight his need for sleep. When she gently suggested it was time for bed, Dylan uncharacteristically began to argue. “Dylan,” Cassidy cautioned.

  “I’m not tired,” he complained.

  “Speed,” Alex urged. “It’s late. We’re all tired. Even me.” Dylan looked at her skeptically. “Come on, I’ll go up with you.” Dylan stared at Alex but made no move to accept her hand.

  “Dylan,” Cassidy’s voice became firm.
r />   “I want to stay with you,” he said plainly.

  Alex looked to Cassidy and immediately understood. The day had been filled with playfulness. It was the first day that Alex had set all work aside in several weeks. The first day that they had simply been together, without any interruptions, in longer than Alex cared to admit. She scratched her head and sat back down next to the boy. She had been looking forward to some alone time with Cassidy, but it seemed to her that something else was more important right now. “How about this?” she began. Dylan looked at her carefully. “Pajama party in our room.” Alex looked at Cassidy, who winked her approval. “But, that means no more arguments, Speed. You go brush your teeth and get your pajamas on. Mom and I will be up in a few minutes.”

  Helen beckoned her grandson to follow. “Come on, Dylan. This old lady needs her rest too. I’ll go up with you while your mom and Alexis finish down here.”

  Dylan began following his YaYa and stopped. “Can you tell me more about the reindeer?” he asked Alex hopefully.

  “Sure,” she responded. “Go on, we’ll be there before you know it.” He scampered up the stairs, and Alex pulled Cassidy to her. “I know we were hoping…”

  Before Alex could continue her thought, Cassidy silenced her with a kiss. “Are you going to sprinkle glitter on the roof?” she asked.

  “She told you that, huh?”

  “I love you, Alex.”

  “I’m sorry, Cass.”

  “For what?”

  “For not being here. For being distracted so much. You don’t deserve that. Neither does Dylan.”

  “Alex, you haven’t done anything wrong. We just miss you. Both of us.”

  “Yeah, well….I didn’t intend to tell you this now,” Alex sighed.

  “Tell me what?” Cassidy asked, feeling a lump of worry form in her throat.

  Alex chuckled. “No, it’s not what you are thinking.”

  “I’m not sure what I am thinking,” Cassidy’s voice broke slightly.

  “It was supposed to be a Christmas present.”

  “What?”

  Alex sighed. “I’m moving my office in January. Actually, I am moving the executive offices completely.” Cassidy searched Alex for her meaning. “I can’t be this far from you anymore, not daily.”

  “Alex, what about Marta and…”

  “We’ll keep purchasing and marketing in Natick. The executive offices are moving to New Haven. We already have a small office there…” Before Alex could continue, Cassidy was kissing her passionately. “I guess that means you approve?” Alex asked. Tears had begun to escape Cassidy’s eyes. “It’s okay, Cass.”

  “Alex, are you sure? This is your father’s…it’s…”

  “I told you before. You and Dylan are the most important things in my life. I wish I could have done it sooner. It’s taken some time to figure out the logistics. I promise; this year will start differently.”

  “Thank you,” Cassidy whispered hoarsely.

  “Thank you for putting up with me,” Alex said as she rose to her feet. “Do you want to go tell Dylan?”

  Cassidy shook her head. “Tomorrow,” she suggested. “Tonight reindeer and glitter stories, tomorrow we’ll tell him when he gets home from school.” Alex nodded her understanding. Dylan needed rest, and the news would no doubt excite him. “You are going back with your mom Tuesday?” Cassidy asked gently as they climbed the stairs.

  Alex sighed and stopped their progression. “I think my mother is going to go see Nick for a few days.”

  “Alex, you left your car at…”

  “Well, guess you will be stuck with me a few days longer.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Alex resumed their trek toward the hallway above them. Dylan was running into their bedroom with his stuffed rabbit in hand. She laughed. “Positive.”

  Monday, December 8th

  “Mr. President,” Congressman Christopher O’Brien greeted the man before him.

  “Take a seat, Chris.”

  “What is it that I can do for you?” O’Brien asked.

  “I want you to see your son.”

  “Excuse me?” O’Brien asked for clarification.

  “I thought I stated that clearly,” the president responded.

  “I haven’t seen Dylan in several months, Mr. President.”

  “Yes, but for now, you still have that right; don’t you?” the president asked. He watched O’Brien shift uncomfortably in his chair. “You have a mediation meeting; I understand. One that Dylan is supposed to be at. Stop postponing that.”

  “All due respect, Mr. President; I’m not sure my family situation has any bearing on…”

  “It presents an opportunity, Congressman. Two words. Alex Toles.”

  O’Brien’s disgust was evident. “What does that have to do with me?”

  “Your son gives us unique access, Christopher.”

  “What exactly are you suggesting?” the congressman asked. The president nodded to a tall figure that was standing at the far side of the room. The man slowly approached the seated pair and opened a small box in front of the congressman. “What is it?”

  “What does it look like?” President Lawrence Strickland quipped.

  “It looks like a toy.”

  “Yes, it does. A peace offering; shall we say? An apology from a father to his son,” the president smiled.

  “I don’t understand.”

  Strickland laughed. “An apology with ears.”

  “He may not even want it,” O’Brien said stoically. “Not from me.”

  “Then I guess you will need to use your powers of persuasion to convince him.”

  “How do you know she won’t suspect…”

  “It’s benign. She’ll no doubt be curious about your motives. I’m sure your ex-wife will share that sentiment, but I doubt she will suspect the actual purpose.”

  “What do you hope to gain from listening in on their personal…”

  The president reclined in his chair. “Alex Toles has one weak spot, O’Brien. That is her family; who just happen to be your former family. I intend to leverage that. She’ll be far more open at home than is wise. She’s proven that already.”

  “If she finds out….”

  “Then make sure she doesn’t,” the president responded. “Oh, and Chris? Make certain you have those accounts well in hand. Dimitri will be in touch soon.” O’Brien retrieved the box that held the toy car and nodded his understanding. He mumbled under his breath as he paced out of the room. He had successfully avoided Cassidy for months. That game had been brought to a conclusion by an unlikely source. He chuckled at the silent admission that spying on Alex brought him a certain degree of satisfaction. “I wonder if Claire has any clue,” he mused, feeling an odd sense of empowerment in his newly assigned task. His lover often mocked his relevance in their initiatives. He had unique access; perhaps he had been hasty in his decision to distance himself from his ex-wife. A more amicable approach might make him a greater asset. He smiled at the thought. “We’ll see who is the more relevant, Claire,” he smirked.

  Brian Fallon sat at a corner booth sipping his coffee and turning a napkin endlessly in his hand. He was only moderately surprised when Alex contacted him. The idea had already sprung into his mind that this might be a good time to assess what FBI Assistant Director Joshua Tate’s motives truly were. Fallon was walking a tightrope. He was positioned within the FBI under Tate, but he was officially immersed in the NSA under Michael Taylor. Unofficially, Fallon reported all that he was able to uncover to Jonathan Krause and Alex. He was acutely aware that in this game of international economics and politics, there were truly no agencies. Names were merely facades. Individuals had agendas. There were groups within groups, and discerning the true motives of any person meant painstaking research, intrusive observation, and the acceptance of constant risk. Tate had been his mentor early on at the bureau, and Fallon had always respected the man. He hoped that his trust would be proven a wise decision. If it
was not; he would not hesitate to use, expose, or even silence Joshua Tate. It was a shift in his life that sometimes sickened him. There were ugly truths he had seen now. He could not close his eyes to them.

  “Agent Fallon,” a deep voice broke through the agent’s musings.

  “Assistant Director,” he returned his superior’s greeting.

  The appearance of a familiar waitress momentarily froze any further discussion. “Usual?” she asked.

  “Indeed,” Tate responded.

  She winked. “Coffee, cream, no sugar and a cinnamon bun.”

  He returned her wink and awaited for her departure to continue. “We both know I love the coffee here, Fallon,” he said dryly. “What gives? Taylor is not giving you enough work these days?”

  Fallon nodded. “NSA, FBI, all the same thing; isn’t it?” he responded.

  “Not always,” Tate answered. He smiled at the waitress as she placed his order on the table. He sipped his coffee until she was out of sight. “So, then, agent….what is it you need from your former boss?”

  “Last I checked you were still my boss,” Fallon responded.

  “On paper,” Tate replied.

  “I guess the question is whether or not I can still trust you,” Fallon said plainly. Tate silently sipped his coffee. “Claire Brackett,” Fallon began. Tate shrugged. “Seems Agent Brackett has some friends that no one was aware of.”

  “The notion that Claire Brackett has any friends at all is a revelation,” Tate said.

  “She gained entry to a facility in Baltimore,” Fallon explained evenly.

  Tate’s expression remained the same. “How is Alex?” he asked, noting the question in Brian Fallon’s eyes at his response. “She’s wondering where I will fall,” Tate laughed. “I don’t know why Claire would be at that facility. Why were you?” he asked. “And don’t insult me, Fallon. I’m not talking about you trailing Agent Brackett.” Fallon nodded but was unsure how to respond. Tate sighed. “You think I know? Who she met? I know who you met. Tell Krause and Toles to be cautious. I will see what I can find out. Brackett’s been traveling in the company of NSA for months. Be careful, Fallon. I can’t cover all the tracks. There are too many now.”