When the realization struck her that the CIA had exposed her to unnecessary danger leading to her rape, her loyalties had turned murky. Instead of taking Jake and Renard into custody, she had chosen to side with them in their mission of taking an Agosta submarine in pursuit of a renegade Pakistani vessel. She had then used her analytical skill as a psychologist to predict the Pakistani traitor’s motivation to help her new friends stop him from nuking Hawaii.
Years later, as her career trajectory in the CIA targeted the moon, she had led a team in assessing the dossiers of a rogue Israeli submarine’s crew. Frustrated, she had found no sign of treason, leading her to discover a broader and deeper terrorist group working within and against the United States. She had enabled Jake and Renard, who had access to a Scorpène submarine through the Frenchman’s shipbuilding connections, to join forces with the United States Navy and save countless lives.
Finally, less than a year ago, she had lent her growing sphere of influence to Renard’s plan of arming Argentina to retake the Falkland Islands. When treachery revealed that she had joined him in choosing the wrong side, their coolness working together under pressure, combined with Jake’s heroism commanding the Frenchman’s Specter submarine, had allowed Renard to declare victory in his mission.
In his wake, she had extended her influence across South America, including a publicized romance with Argentina’s new playboy president.
She had suffered, and she also had met Renard’s high standards of intelligence and efficacy. He had thought she had recovered from her victimhood, but success appeared to destabilize her and subject her to something more debilitating than chemical abuse — power and a hunger for more. He wondered if only a psychologist as brilliant as herself could rescue her.
“Much as I would prefer to prove you wrong,” he said, “I cannot dispute it. You have been through a lot, my dear. And I cannot argue with your results.”
“Good. I didn’t come here to argue.”
She floated her arm into the air and offered a slow flick of her thin fingers as a command for him to sit opposite her. He walked around the short table, adjusted his blazer, and sank into the couch.
Brightness flowed into the cabin as her underling adjusted a remote to energize overhead bulbs. He noticed that her pitch-black gown swallowed light and made her red hair appear like flame in contrast.
“Why did you come here?” he asked. “You could have simply called me.”
“Where’s the fun in that, Pierre?”
“I’m not one for excesses in leisure. Not for decades, at least. I’ve been through that phase in my life.”
“I have a generous travel budget. Why not use it?”
“You do seem to enjoy traveling in style.”
“Don’t be judgmental. Would you like to compare dossiers, or can we agree that amassing your personal fortune included arming the wrong side more than once?”
“I have my regrets, but at least I regret them. As a friend, I counsel you to beware of your rapid rise within the CIA. Rapidly begotten power is stressful in its own right. I can’t imagine what it does to someone so young.”
She shifted in her seat and curled her legs underneath her, signaling that his warning had failed to take root.
“You make it sound like I might fall as fast as I’ve risen. I’m two levels below the director of the CIA, I’m literally in bed with the president of a South American nation, and my mentor is going to be elected President of the United States in four years.”
“I meant no offense. Perhaps I overreached the bounds of good discretion.”
“No offense taken. The reason I came here was simple. I wanted to see you in person at least once before you take on this little assignment for me.”
“Fair enough. This is a large undertaking, even for me.”
She spread her arms across the cabin, her raised nose implying that the gesture extended to the entire South China Sea.
“I made all this possible,” she said. “I made state of the art military hardware accessible to Navarro, I made Australian and American intelligence available to you, and I helped Navarro finance this entire operation. But you’ve never asked me why?”
“I saw no wisdom in challenging my good fortune.”
“Bullshit. You analyze everything.”
“Yes. Of course, I thought of it. But I saw no wisdom in expressing my thoughts to you when you were obviously enthusiastic to support my mission.”
“Indulge me.”
“Very well,” Renard said. “You saw excellent returns on investment. Navarro will enjoy the oil revenues and improved defenses. You, I assume, will enjoy a negotiated share of his oil for American import. And I, of course, will enjoy my fees and my new submarine.”
“Typical Pierre,” she said. “Always thinking about military advantages and making money.”
“You make it sound like a crime.”
“You’re missing the big picture.”
He feared he would lose his cool if she lectured him on global affairs and politics.
“Forgive me if I don’t indulge you by guessing at your meaning.”
“I mean control,” she said. “Controlling the Philippines. Controlling China’s expansion in the South China Sea. Controlling the oil.”
“Ah. I see. You may as well complete your thought and include controlling me.”
She shifted her knees and leaned forward. He craved a cigarette as his blood pressure rose, but he decided it would show weakness.
“Do you really want to have that conversation?” she asked.
“Perhaps we should. The last person in your organization to threaten me outright was your old boss and mentor, the expected future president, and that was years ago. I had considered our relationship one of ongoing mutual benefit, if not candid friendship, at least for my part.”
She leaned back, her discomfort in holding any position betraying her edginess, or perhaps her aloofness. He couldn’t tell which.
“I never said anything about controlling you,” she said. “You brought it up. You accused me of it.”
“I’m usually quite effective at identifying motivations. You are more of an enigma than most, but I believe I finally see you for who you are.”
“Do tell.”
“You’re obsessed with control.”
“So? Isn’t everybody? I’m just honest enough to admit it. You should be grateful that I don’t bullshit you.”
“Then you do wish to control me.”
“No shit, Pierre. What woman trying to make her mark in the male-dominated intelligence community wouldn’t want to have her own private mini-navy?”
“Need I remind you that I am a mercenary for hire? You may always purchase my services provided you meet my price and provided I can live with the consequences of my endeavors.”
Again she fidgeted, this time causing her lackey to slide to the edge of the couch.
“Don’t pretend that you operate in a free market. That’s exactly the point I came here to make. You don’t have that freedom anymore.”
“You need not even ask about having the right of first refusal with me,” he said. “If I ever have a conflict in my schedule, I shall always prioritize your needs at the top. This I will do freely out of loyalty.”
“Not good enough.”
He forced himself silent to buy time to think. Reaching into his blazer, he awaited a command to restrict him from smoking, but it never materialized. So he withdrew a Marlboro, lit it with a gold — plated Zippo, and then rested it on a tray. Challenged, he considered the cigarette a show of defiance.
As the aircraft’s ventilation inhaled the smoke, he broke the silence.
“What more do you demand?”
“I demand veto power.”
“Meaning that you want me on a leash? You want the right to tell me to reject business?”