It took two hours to get from the district court to the agency headquarters in Langley, and neither of us said another word. Once again, I felt like a dick for snapping at her, but she had to understand that even though she was in the car with me, it would’ve been better if we didn’t even know each other’s names.
I pulled into the underground parking. “I’ll try to be quick.”
“You really don’t have to do this.”
“I’m doing it, okay?” I got half a smile, and that was good enough for me.
“There are some public galleries you can roam around in,” I told her when the elevator stopped at the main lobby. “Just give me a few minutes, and then we’ll take care of your car.”
I left her in the lobby and took the elevator six floors up. The instant I got off, I knew shit had hit the fan. I didn’t even make it to my office before my boss, Kellen “Money” McTiernan, motioned me into his and slammed the door behind me. “What the fuck, Cope?”
There was nothing he or I could say that would change the present optics. “I’m as angry as you are, sir.”
I inwardly groaned when the team on the Warrick sting filed in one by one, followed by two people from the Office of Public Affairs. The last thing I needed was ten more people sticking their noses into this.
The bullshit response to the leak that would’ve taken me thirty minutes to craft if I were left alone—and that would’ve been with revisions—took the people in the room over two hours to do, and they still weren’t finished arguing about it.
I leaned back in my chair and looked at my watch, knowing I was forgetting something.
Ali.
“Shit!”
Every head in the room turned and looked at me when I stood and collected the crap I had spread out on the table. “There’s something I need to take care of.”
“Cope?” said McTiernan.
I motioned with my head for him to follow me out to the hall. Thankfully, he did.
“I mean no disrespect, sir.”
“Money.”
“Okay. Money. But the last two hours have been…” I scrubbed my face with my hand, wishing I had thought through what I was going to say.
“A Charlie Foxtrot.” He finished my sentence for me. “I see that now. It’s the ‘cooks in the kitchen’ thing.”
“I have something I have to do, but I can come back.”
“Don’t bother. You’ve got a long few days ahead of you. Go home. Figure out who the hell was there today that could’ve seen something, heard something, guessed something, and then tomorrow, if they’re back, toss ’em out on their ass.”
“Copy that, sir…I mean, Money.”
“Sorry for the overreaction, Cope.” He clapped me on the back, and I shook my head.
“This thing with Irish has had us all spun up for months.”
After he told me to check in with him the next day, I raced to my office, grabbed everything I thought I might need, shoved it into my messenger bag, and rushed out. When I saw another handler, an incessant talker, waiting for the elevator. I spun around and took the stairs all the way down to the lobby.
I burst through the door and stopped in my tracks. I didn’t see her. Was she still wandering around?
“Hey, Cope.” Bernie, the security guard I’d seen at the desk earlier when I left Ali in the lobby, motioned me over. “She asked me to give you this.” It was a folded piece of paper.
“How long ago did she leave?”
“Not too long.”
I looked up at the ceiling and groaned. I couldn’t do anything right where this woman was concerned. I walked back in the direction of the elevator, hit the button, and opened the note.
Thanks for the lift back. I owe you one.
One what? A giant fuck you?
Five
Ali
As far as days went, this one was expensive. I forgot to call the roadside service company to tell them I was leaving, so they charged me a hundred bucks for what they said was a “no show.”
When I finally got back to my car—via the car service, which also cost over a hundred dollars—and called roadside assistance a second time, they agreed my battery was dead, but not that I needed a new one. Instead, they predicted there was an issue with my electrical system.
I talked to the security people in the parking garage and asked if I could leave my car there overnight until I figured out what to do with it. They said I could, but there was a hundred-dollar fee for that too.
Roadside service towed my car to a service station within the free five-mile radius, which meant I had to take the car service back to my apartment. If I added in what it would cost me to get back for the hearing the next day, plus getting my car fixed, I figured I was looking at a thousand dollars easy.
None of this was Sumner Copeland’s fault, except I’d wasted so much time sitting in the stupid CIA building, waiting for him. I should’ve left as soon as we got there. Then I should’ve left when an hour passed and he still hadn’t come down. When it hit the two-hour mark, I was furious. Not to mention that every time the elevator door opened, I worried someone who knew me would get off.
My guess was Cope had forgotten all about me. I mean, would it have been so hard to send some intern down to tell me it was going to take a lot longer than he’d expected?
The driver pulled up to my building, and I crawled out of the back seat, dead tired and laden with my messenger bag, my gym bag, and some other stuff from my car that I’d thrown into a paper bag. I was about to walk into my building when I heard someone shouting.
“Miss, miss, wait!” I turned around and saw Lindsey from the café running toward me, carrying yet another bag.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“This is from…damn, I’m out of shape.” She tried to catch her breath. “Anyway, this is from Cope. You just missed him.” She took another deep breath. “He was waiting to give it to you himself, but then he got a call.”
“Look, Lindsey, right?”
She nodded, still trying to catch her breath.
“This is really sweet, but I’ve had a really long, really hard day, and I don’t have much of an appetite.”
“He told me. At least his part in it. I’ll tell you, he really feels awful about it. Just take this. It’s dinner, plus stuff for breakfast and lunch tomorrow. By the looks of you, it’ll probably last you all week.”
“By the looks of me?” I asked, not bothering to hide my scowl.
“You’re tiny. You probably don’t eat more than a bite or two at every meal, am I right?”
I was dead tired, my feet were killing me, I was starving even though I’d lied and said I wasn’t, and I was irritable. Nothing I was going through was the fault of the woman who’d run across the street to give me food.
I smiled and shook my head. “You’d be surprised how much I can pack away. My grandma always said I had the appetite of an offensive lineman. Thank you for this. I really do appreciate it.”
“There’s silverware in there and napkins, plus instructions for heating it all up. Oh, and there’s dessert too. I’m sorry you had such a shitty day.” She tried to hand me the bag, but with everything I was carrying, I had no way to take it.