Moments after coming up with this plan to retrieve the tablet, Hayley catches sight of the device nestled under the arm of the visiting CIA deputy director, the telltale Rolling Stones sticker clear identification enough. Odom was his name, right? Hayley masks her shocked reaction, aware the man is actually studying her at this very second, as if reading her mind and taunting her with his possession of the incriminating device. Hayley pretends to look past the powerful CIA official, her wildly spinning thoughts seeking traction. What is James Odom doing with the tablet? Why is he staring at her? Is the CIA involved in the conspiracy? Do they know she is aware of the plot, however dimly? Hayley wishes Asher were there and able to talk over all of these startling developments.
* * *
ODOM IS AMONG the last to join the herd of West Wing staffers in the Cabinet Room, finding a place to stand under John Singer Sargent’s monumental portrait of Theodore Roosevelt at the north end of the room. The atmosphere is not unlike the disaster drills he remembers from his grade-school years. It’s all such a ridiculous waste of time. The fact that he is responsible for orchestrating gunplay that prompted the shelter in place is no comfort. Between his everyday duties as deputy director overseeing the Office of Intelligence Integration, the emerging crisis in Estonia, and managing a clandestine Operation Damocles, Odom finds even his herculean time-management skills being put to an extreme test. He is due back at Langley in twenty minutes and highly regrets being thwarted in his plan to lock horns with Monroe in the debate over US policy regarding relations with Moscow. Recovering the agent’s tablet, however, goes a long way toward mitigating that disappointment.
Gripping the SCS-100 briefcase communication system in one hand and cradling the retrieved tablet in the other, Odom considers the next sixty minutes of his day. Once the shelter in place ends, he will proceed directly to his vehicle parked less than five hundred feet from where he presently stands and text Sinatra from there. They will have to be careful in the transfer of the tablet, but Odom understands the operative has preselected drop sites throughout the city and can communicate to him a location for the closest one. Then it’s off to Langley and the daily briefing at the National Counterterrorism Center. He plans to order a response in kind to the Russians’ cyberattack, with or without Monroe’s permission. The NSA has the appropriate tactical units necessary for untraceable offensive cyber actions. He will contact his liaisons at Fort Meade from the car. There is no time to waste. Moscow will up-phase their actions against Estonia within hours minus robust response. If this isn’t war, James Odom doesn’t know what is. For only a brief moment, he feels the fatigue of an old man who has run too many races. Odom wonders if willpower is a kind of psychology muscle that can atrophy with age.
As he’s musing like this, Odom’s gaze falls on the young female intern from the Oval Office. Without a doubt, the president favors the girl. Knowing as much as Odom does about Monroe, there is no question the president’s attention is anything but platonic. Nor is it unwarranted. The young woman is unmistakably intelligent, possessing rare poise for a person her age. Again Odom feels the long-forgotten urge to recruit, a skill he hasn’t employed since his days long ago in the field. Assuming he has a few more wasted minutes cooped up in the Cabinet Room, the CIA deputy director decides to act on his impulses. Leaving his position under the Roosevelt portrait and threading his way through the restless throng inside the room, Odom makes his way toward the intern standing with others at the opposite end of the room.
* * *
HAYLEY SEES THE CIA deputy director making his way across the room, clearly with the intention to interact with her. Odom had been staring at her for the last two minutes. Hayley cannot imagine what he wants to say to her and braces for anything, including outright accusation. With some relief, Hayley sees Odom smile slightly as he draws nearer to where she stands.
“Never a dull moment, right?” He gestures at the windows and French doors looking out on the Rose Garden. “Like sheltering in a veritable fishbowl.”
“Yes, sir. Hope everyone is okay out there.” Hayley keeps her breathing as normal and steady as possible, aware of her own heartbeat racing.
“The president seems to have a real affection for you. I can see why.” He extends a hand. “James Odom.”
Hayley takes his hand in hers and shakes. “Thank you, sir. Hayley Chill. Sorry about walking in on you downstairs. I was confused by the doors looking all the same.” She pulls off a fairly admirable job of appearing helpless.
“Perfectly understandable. Place is a rat’s maze, in more ways than one, right?” He says this with a conspiratorial grin, seeking connection necessary for recruitment.
“Yes, sir, I suppose some might think so.” Hayley stops there, denying Odom her collaboration. Her eyes briefly glance toward the tablet under his arm but not long enough to arouse suspicion. Clearly Odom expects more from her. “I’m an intern in Operations,” she adds helpfully.
“You look too old for college, Ms. Chill.”
“Discharged about a year ago, sir.”
Odom nods. Of course! She’s ex-military. Why hadn’t he assumed as much in the first place.
“Happy here?” he asks, zeroing in.
“Very grateful to be serving my country, sir, in any capacity,” she answers, deflecting his inquiry with a canned line.
Odom nods again. Without even trying, this young woman is a stone-cold pro.
“After you complete your internship here, come see me at Langley.” He produces his business card and hands it to Hayley. “Our country suffers from a dire shortage of adults.”
A Secret Service agent pokes his head in the doorway that leads out into the corridor. “All clear, folks. You’re free to move about the complex.”
Odom winks at Hayley. “We live to fight another day.”
Before she can respond, the CIA deputy director exits the door leading out into the Rose Garden and takes Scott Billings’s tablet with him.
Hayley looks down at the card Odom had given her, which is stunningly spare.
JAMES ODOM
202-589-1212
She places the business card in her jacket pocket with conflicting emotions. Scott’s computer and all of its resident data are lost to her. Contained in its storage mediums is indisputable proof of a conspiracy to attack the administration, if not POTUS himself. Nevertheless, Hayley has gained two irrefutable facts with its loss. First, the CIA deputy director has revealed himself to be party to the conspiracy, if not its leader. Secondly, Odom’s friendliness toward her suggests the conspirators have no idea Hayley suspects anything. She is an important factor in the game, and none of the other players know it.
The intern follows the others through the door, into the first-floor corridor. Looking over her shoulder, she sees two Secret Service agents walk past on the West Colonnade outside the Cabinet Room doors, carrying P90 submachine guns but chatting casually. It strikes Hayley the agents carry themselves with a swagger, like they own the place.
* * *
THE METROPOLITAN POLICE Department boat, one of two and more typically used as a sobriety checkpoint for inebriated recreational boaters, remains anchored just south of the Key Bridge. Police divers occasionally emerge from the depths with debris they’ve gathered from the river bottom. Uniformed officers in the boat collect the mud-covered items from the men in the water and lay them on tarps spread out on the deck. Tires, baby carriages, fishing rods, dozens of beer bottles, and an artificial leg, among other items, have been collected. Their relation to Scott Billings and the accident remain unsubstantiated. Nevertheless, the divers make repeated trips to the river’s bottom with their collection sacks.