Leverage, page 24
“The enemy in this case is unfortunately real.” Of course I meant the president and his cohort of corrupt disgusting men. “And why wouldn’t I fight them? They’re immoral, for starters.” And maybe as corrupt as Berenson.
“You don’t need to fight. That’s not the point here.”
“Then what is the point?”
“To play out the long game. That’s how you’ll win against them.”
“Who is them exactly?”
Jeff picked up his cards. He sorted them for a maddeningly long time before he answered, “The people who sign your paychecks. And sometimes mine.”
I stared at him until he elaborated, “The same people who sent someone to collect you in the middle of the night. The same people who were following you to Tampa. Our government wants what it wants and few things will get in the way of that.”
“Don’t I know it,” I mumbled. “How do I get them to back away from her? Like really leave her alone, forget she even exists?”
“I don’t know. When you did what you did with that intelligence, you stuck a massive target on your back.”
I asked him a question I’d asked Lennon early on. “Do you think they’re going to kill me?”
“No,” he said immediately, “of course not.” He seemed almost appalled by the suggestion. “But you put Ms. Flores and her family on their radar, aligned them with you, and they know how important she is to you. Now they’re going to do everything they can to make sure you never do anything like that again. Including holding something or someone over your head.”
“Merry Christmas,” I grumbled.
Chapter Seventeen
Playing dangerous games
In a move that did nothing to ease my suspicions, the Internet and cell service returned at exactly the same time, early the next morning. What a lovely coincidence… The moment services came back, Signal went nuts with notifications ranging from Are you there? Did you get Christmas drunk and pass out? to I’m really worried about you, call me or something PLEASE.
The slew of messages was a timeline of Sophia’s panic—she’d even contacted Derek to ask if something had happened and been assured there was no indication of anything like that—and with every message, I could feel her desperation, her rationalization, her resignation. It was late for her, but I hit the video call button as I was walking down the hall, and she answered as I closed my bedroom door, her voice and face pure relief. “Oh my god,” she choked out. “Lexie. Are you all right?”
“Hey, I’m so sorry. We lost all comms just after dinner yesterday. Shit timing, huh? And I’m okay.” I drew in a deep breath and exhaled my frustration, trying to focus on the present where I was okay and she was okay and we were talking to each other. “How are you?” I fumbled on the bedside table for my glasses. “There. Good. I can see you’re still beautiful.”
“I’m…Now we’re talking, I’m breathing again. But this has been the worst twelve hours of my entire life. I’ve been so worried about you. Are you sure you’re okay?” Her voice broke on the question.
“Aside from being seriously pissed off that we didn’t get to talk on Christmas Day, I’m fine. Really,” I added when her eyebrows shot up. I worked hard to moderate how upset I really was—now wasn’t the time to dump all my emotions on her—and to instead show her how much talking with her right now was keeping me afloat before my meet-up with Elaheh in a few hours. “I’m so happy to see you, babe. Did you have a good Christmas?”
“It was nice, yeah. Just the usual food and family stuff. Everyone loved their gifts. But…I really wanted to talk to you and so did Mom and papi.” Dejection seeped from her like a heavy, oppressive rain cloud.
“I know. Me too.” I forced cheer into my voice. “No matter, next year it’ll be in person and we’ll celebrate extra hard to make up for this year.”
“For sure.” She smiled sweetly, and I could see the change move through her as she collected herself. “How was your day? How was your Christmas food? Did your partner like his gift?”
“It was pretty chill, actually, aside from the communication issue. The food was great. Can you please tell Camila that her marinade was delicious? And he did like his things, yes.”
She smirked. “And did he give you something?”
“Yes, he did. You were right about the gifts thing.”
“Of course I was right. Did you open mine?”
“God no, of course not. I was waiting for you. But then you never happened, but now you are happening, so…” I leaned over and snagged the gift from my bedside table where I’d spent the night staring at it, hoping she was okay and that somehow she knew that I was too. “Did you open mine?”
“I did. Sorry. I got all freaked out when I finally went to bed, thinking you’d died or something, so I opened it. That book looks really interesting! And the necklace is beautiful, thank you. I’m wearing it now.” She pulled the neckline of her sweater aside to reveal the gold necklace and its small world globe pendant—a perfect gift for the avid traveler, the saleswoman had assured me while I’d been dithering.
“Oh, it looks great on you. And you’re welcome, and I’m so sorry it wasn’t something better or more thoughtful, but time was not my friend this year. But next year, expect gift extravagance.” A necklace, and a book on the history of codebreaking weren’t exactly exciting, but I knew how much Sophia loved puzzles and riddles and codes, as well as travel, so at least I’d managed to hit the “personal” note.
“Oh I will,” she assured me. “And no apologies, I love your gifts. Also, don’t get too excited, I had the same issue with the timing crunch.”
I set the phone on the bedside table, propped up against a pile of books, and kept talking as I slid my thumbnail underneath the tape of Sophia’s gift. “I’m sure whatever you got me is amazing, time crunch and all.” I peeled back the paper and pulled out a purple octopus squeeze toy and some small temporary tattoos of cartoon octopuses. “Ahaha, so cute. God, I can’t remember the last time I had a temporary tattoo. Maybe elementary school?” I held one against my shirt sleeve then set it down to squeeze the octopus. Mmm, stress relieving. “I love this, thank you. It’s adorable, and it makes me think of our road trip.”
After she’d found out what was really going on, she’d asked me to tell her some truths, and I’d blurted random things, like how I loved octopus—they were cool and clever and camoflaguey—and Sophia had laughingly compared me to one. I’d left a small plastic octopus in her car to show her that I was free and safe, and it seemed octopuses were now my thing.
“Me too,” Sophia murmured. “What about the other one?”
It felt like a frame under the butcher’s paper wrapping, and once I’d torn it back I was staring at a pencil drawing. Of Sophia. Completely naked. I swallowed hard. “Jesus,” I managed to croak out. “I’m glad I didn’t open this during a video call with your family.”
Sophia cracked up. “Yeah that would have been a little awkward.”
The drawing was erotic and tasteful, and I lightly traced the line of her hip, along her side and up to her breast. Based on the bedframe at the edge of the drawing, she’d positioned a mirror and drawn her reflection as she’d reclined on her bed. Her legs were slightly open, the shading between her legs enough to hint at what was there, but indistinct enough to make me desperate to see more. The full curves of her breasts and hips flowed like a meandering stream, graceful and elegant.
I swallowed hard, trying to suppress the ache of want. “Fuck me, you’re so beautiful.”
Sophia rubbed her palm over the blush creeping up her neck. “Thank you. Drawing yourself naked is…an experience. I was trying very hard to not rose-tint my self-portrait.”
I whistled. “Baby, you did no such thing.” Desire and arousal mixed together low in my belly, and I took a deep breath to settle the quiver of excitement. Reality was an unfortunate intrusion, and further settled my arousal. “And I would love to compare this drawing with the real thing in slow, intimate detail, but, sweetheart, it’s the start of my workday here and I need to go out and meet with someone. Sorry to run off. I just had to call you and let you know what happened. Can we try for a video call tonight?” I did my best not to think about the fact that if I’d misjudged Elaheh, that there might not be any more calls in my future.
“Absolutely. Assuming the Internet and cell service works,” she said, trying to tease, but I caught the flat effect of her annoyance. “Are you actually in some cave somewhere with no reception?”
I held back my choked laugh. “No, we’re in a city full of technology. It’ll work.” I hoped.
“Good. I…I need a real, long conversation with you. I feel like we need to reconnect.”
My breath caught. So it wasn’t just me who felt like we’d drifted. “Me too, and I know. I love you,” I murmured. “And I miss you.”
“Me too. I mean, I don’t love and miss me. But I love and miss you.”
I laughed. The sentiment brought a warmth that quickly cooled and my laugh turned to a sigh. “You know what?”
“What?”
“Whoever said absence makes the heart grow fonder was a liar. All it’s doing is making me really fucking sad.”
Jeff was in the living room when I exited my room after my all-too-brief call with Sophia. “Everything okay?” he asked.
“Mhmm. She was scared shitless that something had happened but I think she’s calmed down now we’ve talked. How’s Dominique?”
“Same. And now that we’ve assured our respective better halves that we’re okay, I need to show you something.”
“I’m not squeezing a back zit for you.”
“I thought women loved doing that shit, but it’s not that.” Jeff picked up something from his desk, then turned around, keeping his hands behind himself and the item hidden. “So, it made me suspicious that both the Internet and cell service went out at exactly the same time, and on Christmas Day which is a day we both would want to connect with family and partners. Then I remembered you asking if I thought they were messing with our personal comms on purpose. Which I didn’t. But, curiosity is my job, so I went digging around the apartment to see what I could see.” He brought his hands out in front, holding up a small electronic device with wires extruding from the end. “And look what I’ve seen.”
I leaned closer, my gut sinking as I realized with dread what the device might be. “Is that—”
“A signal blocker with remote access? Yes. Which means the services didn’t just go down.” He paused for effect. “Someone blocked them. Someone who is probably back in the States. Or…maybe headquartered just out of town and doing nefarious things because someone back in the States told them to.” Jeff dropped the plastic box into the sink, plugged the hole, and turned on the water. He spun back to face me, arms crossed casually over his chest. “Who exactly did you piss off, Alexandra?”
“I’m sure you know.”
He raised his chin to stare me down, but the edges of his eyes crinkled with amusement. “You did a damned good job of it.”
“Trust me, I know. If I was as good at everything else as I seem to be at infuriating the president, then I’d be happy.”
Jeff laughed. “Keep trying.” He seemed unfazed by my revelation. “Are you ready for your meeting? Anything you need to talk through before you go?”
“Yes, and no.”
“Good. We’ll leave to do our recon walk in an hour.”
“Mhmm.”
It was almost game time. Yay.
Elaheh lived in one of the newer apartment buildings similar to ours, a twenty-minute stroll away. The recon walk Jeff and I took around the surrounding blocks confirmed what the satellite imagery had shown—nothing was obviously amiss, and I felt very little anxiety about something untoward happening from outside during my visit. My anxiety was tied to my feelings about seeing her again after the way I’d ended things, and the whole “your brother and uncle were terrorists, and I killed your brother and was responsible for your uncle’s death soon after that.” Plus, there was the normal underlying awkwardness of talking to someone you’d broken up with abruptly, having planned to leave the country so they couldn’t contact you.
I still couldn’t shake the lingering, unfounded, unease that she knew what I’d done, and who I really was. But in the next thought stream, I realized how ridiculous that was. I was as certain as I could be that they’d taken no photographs of me while I’d been held hostage, my cover had been secure—or as secure as it could be with a novice asset who’d blown it to the people who’d captured me—and in the years since, the name Ellen Jackson had never come up in any intelligence briefs. And to be certain my cover wasn’t blown, a cleanup crew had come in after my rescue and scoured the premises, making sure no trace of Ellen had made it into the network.
Jeff had positioned himself in a café kitty-corner from Elaheh’s building to wait for me and keep an eye on things, and having him there eased some of my nervousness. Less than two seconds after I’d knocked, as if she’d been lingering on the other side, waiting for me, Elaheh answered her door. She wore hijab in a beautiful emerald-green pattern, her smile was warm, friendly, and she held out her right hand to me, squeezing mine as she murmured, “Ellen.” She pulled me toward her and kissed me lightly on the cheek. “Please come in. Welcome.”
“Thank you so much for the invitation,” I said as I passed her the flowers I’d purchased on my way over. I removed my shoes and lined them up neatly in the entryway as Elaheh examined the bouquet.
“Orange tulips. My favorite. You remembered.” She lifted her eyes to meet mine. “Thank you.”
“You’re most welcome.” The formality of the conversation felt so strange after everything that had transpired between us. “This is a beautiful apartment. So light and airy. You must have a beautiful view of the park from here.” The spiced scent of brewing tea wafted to me, and I inhaled deeply.
She smiled knowingly for a moment before the smile turned mischievous. “It is a world away from my old apartment, isn’t it?”
I recalled the cramped space, the worn furniture, the homey feeling of the apartment where I’d spent so much time. But I felt nothing as I recalled that time together. “It is,” I agreed.
“Please, make yourself comfortable. I have chai brewing. Are you hungry?”
“No, but thank you. I had a late breakfast.” I glanced around furtively as I followed her through her apartment, though I didn’t know what I was expecting to see. Plans for an upcoming terrorist attack would be nice. Okay, not nice, but…you know, good for the Intelligence Community. Elaheh guided me to the living room just off the kitchen, and gestured to the large, ornately decorated cushions on the beautifully patterned rug covering almost the entire room. “Please, sit. Make yourself comfortable.”
I took a seat on a soft cushion, where I could see into the kitchen. Ever the gracious hostess, she came back almost right away to set a plate of freshly baked khetayee cookies on the low table in front of me, each one perfectly shaped with a generous pinch of ground pistachios in the dimple on top. After a warm smile, she went back to making tea. I watched Elaheh stirring chai in a battered old saucepan that I imagined had absorbed decades worth of spices into the metal. Probably why the chai I made for myself at home never tasted as good as it did here.
“You still wear the same perfume,” she said casually. “I missed it when you left.”
I had no idea how to answer, so I said, “You do too.” As well as the spice from her tea, I’d been surrounded by the scent of English rose the moment I’d entered her apartment, and had pushed down the wave of sad nostalgia. I gestured at the drawings on her refrigerator and asked a question to which I already knew the answer. “You have a child?”
One corner of her mouth turned upward. “Yes. A son. He is almost three years old.”
“He’s not here?”
Her gaze was steady. “With my husband’s family. I thought it best while you visited.”
Interesting. Best because she didn’t want me to meet her child, or vice versa? Best because she wanted to discuss something with me away from a child’s ears? Best because she knew I struggled with children, especially young loud ones? Or…best because she thought something might happen between us, that we’d shift back to the place where we’d been before? Elaheh turned back to the stove, standing with her back to me as she slowly stirred the chai.
The silence expanded to fill the space, moving between us like mist. “What are your husband’s and son’s names?” I asked casually, just a friend making polite conversation.
“Basir. And Basir, Junior,” she added with a smile that didn’t touch her eyes. Elaheh strained the brew, and brought the teapot and two yellow glass cups into the living room, bending at the waist to set them down. After carefully pouring chai into both glasses, she passed one to me. I took it carefully so she didn’t accidentally trap my fingers underneath hers.
I waited until she’d sat opposite me, gracefully folding her legs beside her, before I raised the glass, inhaling deeply before sipping the aromatic milky tea. The warm cinnamon, clove, and nutmeg melted over my tongue. “Oh my goodness. Thank you. That’s wonderful. I’ve tried making tea the way you do, but I can never get it just right, even with a recipe.”
Elaheh curled both hands around the mug, cupping it tightly as she raised it to blow across the surface of her tea. A faint smile raised the edges of her mouth. “So it was worth coming all this way just for my tea?”
“Yes.” I decided to just push through into the heart of the conversation and see where it would get me. “How long have you been married?”
“Almost five years. Not long after you left, my family found Basir for me to marry. We moved here soon after the wedding.” She said it completely without inflection, completely without facial expression, which gave me no idea how she felt about her second marriage. Though, I’d have thought if she was enthused about her new husband, she would have shown it.
