McFarland replied, “Spoken like a true DDO — just get the job done; dispense with the legalities.” McFarland meant it as a compliment. She smiled and added, “I think you’re going to fit in just fine as DDO.”
“Let’s not get too carried away,” Christine said. “I realize the rules get bent around here on occasion, but I need to be the one who authorizes it.” She directed her gaze at Deputy Director Bryant. “I know there are matters you hide from me, making the decision at your level, leaving me out of the loop. That needs to stop. I get a vote on anything that might violate the law.”
Bryant and McFarland exchanged glances.
Turning to Christine, Bryant said, “I do that for a reason — to insulate and protect the director from any fallout regarding those matters.”
“No,” Christine replied. “You do it because you believe that you, with four decades of agency experience, are more qualified than a newbie wet-behind-the-ears director who could barely spell CIA when she got appointed to the job.”
“Well, there’s that,” Bryant agreed.
“Going forward,” Christine replied, “you’ll bring all of these sensitive matters to me, and I’ll decide which ones get managed at your level.”
“As you wish,” he said, with no hint of resentment.
“Regarding sensitive matters,” Christine said as she shifted back to McKinnon, “what’s the plan for Khalila and Mixell?”
“I plan to reinstate Khalila next week. As far as rehabilitation goes, there’s been none and there won’t be. Her outlook on matters is firm, and I’m confident that if Khalila were to find herself in a similar situation in the future, she’d respond the same way. Frankly, I don’t blame her. If I had been in her shoes, I would have done the same thing.”
“So, Khalila will lead the effort to track down Mixell?” Christine asked.
“I’d prefer to have Harrison as well,” McKinnon replied. “I realize he’s trying to lay low, but if you approve, we’ll try to locate him and invite him back.”
Christine hesitated, considering what hiring Harrison the first time had cost him. But Mixell would eventually track down and attempt to kill Harrison, and the outcome would likely be better if Harrison was part of the team, hunting down Mixell instead.
Plus, if they located Harrison, it would give Christine an opportunity to at least talk with him. Give her a chance to clear the air and hopefully begin the effort to repair their relationship.
She nodded. “Find him.”
4
MEDINA FALLS, ARKANSAS
“Thanks, Nicholai.”
Twenty-year-old Sarah Greenwood smiled as she picked up the tip, then wiped the diner counter as Nicholai Gherkin pushed himself to his feet, then hobbled toward the door. Sarah watched through the diner’s large front windows in sympathy as the elderly man worked his way down the sidewalk, aided by his cane. It wouldn’t be much longer, she thought, before he would need one of those fancy motorized scooters. But the folks in Medina Falls didn’t have a lot of money, and Nicholai would probably have to make do with a used wheelchair.
Medina Falls was a town with only a few hundred residents situated in the vast expanse of southern Arkansas, or as most of the town’s residents preferred to say, in the middle of nowhere. The diner’s clientele were almost exclusively locals — they didn’t get many visitors in Medina Falls — but the patronage was steady and the income enough to keep the diner afloat. Sarah not being a paid employee helped make ends meet; her dad owned and managed the diner.
Sarah occasionally wondered what her life would have been like if she had gone to college, or at least moved to a big city, but she felt obligated to help her dad out. After all, he had fed and clothed her, and put a roof over her head her entire life. Helping him make a living running the diner was the least she could do.
As Sarah took additional orders and delivered the food, she lost track of time, realizing it was 1 p.m. when a Greyhound bus coasted to a halt across the street. Medina Falls was a small town with only a few stores along the main street, and not even one traffic light. But it was significant enough to warrant a bus stop once a week, something the townsfolk took pride in. The bus pulled away, leaving behind a lone passenger who had disembarked — a tall, well-built man standing with a backpack on the sidewalk beside him.
As he gazed across the street toward the diner, surveying the town buildings, something about the man caught Sarah’s attention. There was a darkness in his eyes, the look of someone who had suffered a terrible loss. He had also lost a good deal of weight, it seemed. His clothes hung on his frame, a size too large. Despite his lean appearance, however, he still had a strong, athletic build. She noticed the muscles in his arm as he heaved his backpack over his shoulder, then moved across the street toward her.
The man entered the diner, quickly surveying the establishment — Sarah and four customers — before stopping by the counter.
“Welcome to Medina Falls,” Sarah said as she approached. “What can I get to drink for ya?” She placed a menu on the counter before him.
“Just information,” the man replied in a northern accent. He was definitely going to stick out in Medina Falls, whose inhabitants spoke with a southern drawl.
“Surely, you must be hungry after your long ride. Perhaps a burger. I recommend the bacon cheese, a town favorite.”
“I’m looking for a place to stay,” the man replied. “I understand there’s a room for rent by Gloria Potter.”
“Miss Potter? Yep, she has a guesthouse that she rents out on occasion. There’s no hotel in town; Miss Potter’s is pretty much all we got. Her house is a few blocks that way,” Sarah said, pointing to her left, “on the other side of the street. A big white house with blue shutters. Is she expecting you? She was in here the other night and didn’t mention anything about a new guest.”
“Thanks,” the man said. His eyes surveyed the diner’s occupants again, and Sarah got the impression he was about to leave. And he hadn’t ordered anything to eat yet.
“Is there anything you’d like to eat or drink? I’m Sarah, by the way. What’s your name?”
The man nodded politely. “It’s nice to meet you, Sarah.”
Then he turned and headed toward the door.
Sarah watched as the man exited the diner, then stopped on the sidewalk, looking both ways pensively before heading toward Miss Potter’s. When the man disappeared from view, she realized that he hadn’t answered a single question, and she hadn’t even learned his first name.
What a strange man, Sarah thought.
5
MOSCOW, RUSSIA
Russian President Dmitry Egorov entered the Kremlin conference room, joining his advisors seated around the table. To the president’s right were newly appointed Defense Minister Andrei Grigorenko and Foreign Minister Marat Trutnev. On the other side of the table sat Egorov’s Chief of Staff Anton Kravtsov and Chief of the General Staff Nikolai Volkov, the senior officer in the Russian military.
Egorov had assembled his senior civilian and military advisors to hear their proposals. Upon his election, he had issued an edict to develop plans to fulfill the primary campaign promise he had made to the Russian people: to return Russian prestige and influence on the world stage to the levels of the Soviet Union. Egorov turned first to his new minister of defense.
“Proceed.”
Grigorenko began. “The plan we have developed will fulfill not one, but two of your campaign promises. Not only will the West learn to respect and fear Russia again, but we will solve the issue of an isolated Crimea by establishing Russian control of a land corridor connecting Crimea with mainland Russia.”