17. 17
I’d never seen security like I had as I entered Air Force One.
Men in suits, hands clasped low in front of them, lined the entrance to the steps, the halls, every room of the aircraft.
I was terrified that Elias was going to have to carry me up the giant flight of steps into the plane, but there was a service hatch at the back. He just wheeled me right in.
Hopefully there was limited fanfare when we landed in D.C.
A single photo with me in the background of the President greeting the press hitting a C-SPAN article would be the death of me.
The last thing I needed was a phone full of texts from people I hadn’t talked to in years, asking how I knew the President, and what I did to get myself into a wheelchair.
My phone was turned off and in Elias’s bag, and I wasn’t excited about turning it back on.
We were led to an interior meeting room with a wooden rectangular table.
Not as large as I was used to seeing in the CIA building, it could only seat eight, like it could have been a dinner table at home.
It was less sterile than I imagined, but I couldn’t call it homey either.
It was comfortable enough. The carpet was a dark blue, the walls a similar color.
A television was mounted on the wall, but it was turned off.
The President was alone in the room aside from an agent that stood near the door.
Sitting at the side rather than the head of the table, he tapped away at his phone screen, probably sending his thousandth email of the day.
He stood to greet us as we entered the room, and I was pleased that he acknowledged us at all.
Walking around the table, he greeted Elias first with a handshake and a pat on the shoulder. “Glad to see you, Elias.”
“Likewise, Mr. President.”
The President extended a hand to me and I took it, shaking it gingerly. “Lovely to meet you, Dr. Hayes.”
“I’m sorry that I can’t stand to greet you.” I felt my face flush as I blurted the words, but I had to ease the tension I felt somehow.
He smiled politely at my nervousness. “Don’t worry about it.”
Elias pushed a chair out of the way for me and wheeled me into place before sitting next to me. It had only been a few hours since I’d woken up, but I already had trouble tolerating my lack of independence. Elias didn’t mind being my keeper, but I did.
President Williams’s eyes raked over Elias and I, but they settled on Elias. “You look like hell, Elias.”
“Don’t I always?” Elias joked. One of his hands stretched out on the table as he leaned back.
“I’m not enthusiastic about you sending the Russian back to the United States.” Right into it, then.
“He was very helpful toward the end,” said Elias, looking at me. “He was a protege of Novikov, I figured he could be of use. He seems decent, and if I left him behind I figured the Russians would kill him.”
“Yeah.” Williams rubbed at his jaw. “They might have. Misha is in a safe house until I figure out what I want to do with him.”
“He can work with me.” My voice came out weaker than I intended. “He was bright enough to be handpicked for his research, just like I was.”
“Handpicked?” Williams asked. He feigned innocence, like I didn’t know that I was chosen by Fassi, and chosen by Novikov.
My foot started to bounce under the table. “Novikov knew the U.S. would send me. He asked for help because he wanted to manipulate the virus further, not really make a cure for it. That was never the plan. If I succeeded, he'd just make even more money selling the vaccine.”
“Start at the beginning, Cassia.”
I did. The reports, the photos, I detailed all the information I encountered.
Elias peppered in his own account when necessary, but he let me lead the conversation, only correcting me when absolutely crucial.
The President learned from me what he suspected about Taylor, that he was a global threat, and my claim that scientists all over the world were helping him with his “medical” research.
In too much detail, I described what NT02 did to whoever was infected by it.
The metal, the slow transformation before the subject lost themselves.
How when combined with other compounds they concocted, namely NT01, or Variant-13 as he knew it, the subject could keep their mind, or lose control of it, depending on timing, the order in which they were infected, and the special cocktail that was chosen to accompany the NT viruses.
“Sir,” I said. “I would prefer to not have to visit the Arctic circle again. The sun doesn’t set and the food is horrible.”
“She’s funny.” He nodded his head to me. “I see why you like her.”
Elias laid his hand loosely my shoulder. “Sometimes.”
“I’m sorry that you had to go through that, Cassia.
My intentions for you are to keep the lab coat on.
I’m not interested in sending you on clean up assignments.
” Elias had called the President a dick, but I wasn’t sure if I believed him.
There was history between them, that much was certain, but he seemed to be reasonable.
Although, he was a politician, so it might have been best to take his words with a grain of salt.
“Outside of the mission, everything is going well?” Williams asked.
“Work’s fine so far.”
“Between the two of you,” he added. “We don’t need to update your agreements, do we?”
I leaned forward to rest on the table, but the movement sent a jolt of pain through my leg, and I jerked back, opting to lean to the side instead, resting my face on my hand.
“No, uh, I'm good.”
“Really David?”
My eyes went wide as Elias spoke. President Williams was young for a President, as he was in his forties, but I didn't take that to mean he was more casual. In fact, it might have made him more stern, more eager to prove himself.
“This is an official meeting. I don’t think addressing me by my first name is entirely appropriate in this setting.” Williams didn’t look offended, but his words held authority.
Elias scoffed. “You just asked Cassie, in not so many words, if we are still participating in our ethically gray, probably against the rules, sexual relationship. That's far more inappropriate.”
Why did Elias have to say it like that, and to the President of all people?
“You've always had a penchant for insubordination,” he said offhand. “Is that a yes, or a no?”
“We're still together,” Elias clarified, removing his hand from my shoulder. “Is that a problem now?”
The President shook his head. “No, it's not a problem. You know I'd go to bat for you if it was.”
Elias leaned back, crossing his arms. “I actually do have a problem I need some help with.”
Williams was intrigued by this, his eyebrow raised. He liked Elias more than Elias was willing to let on. If one could get past his subversion to authority, he was rather endearing. “What can I help you with, Special Agent Correa?”
“I met Montgomery's kid at the shooting range.”
“Good kid. Lots of promise. As long as he doesn't turn into his father.”
Neither of them were our favorite people. The General was hard-pressed to keep us separated, and his son seemed to enjoy messing with our heads. A duo for the ages, really.
“He was giving Cassie a hard time about how she holds a gun, and we might have gotten into a disagreement.”
“Cassia excelled in her marksman training,” said Williams. My eyes lingered on him after he’d spoken. I was surprised that he knew anything about me.
“That's what I'm saying. The kid is an asshole.”
Williams laughed. “I can't really do anything about that.”
“He called Cassie ‘Miss Hayes,’ despite having already been corrected and then,” Elias turned to me, his brows furrowed in question. “What exactly did he say?”
“I'm not swearing in front of the President.” Absolutely not. I didn't care how close they were, how casual it felt, I couldn't do that.
“I will,” he said. “I'm paraphrasing, but after I clarified again that it was disrespectful to not call her Doctor, how she was a major asset to the United States, he said that it was rich coming from the guy who fucked the mission objective.”
“Excuse me?” President Williams's mouth flopped open. He leaned forward, his elbows hitting the table. “Cassia,” he said quietly, turning his head to me. “You weren’t the objective, if that hasn’t been made clear.”
“Trust me,” Elias grumbled. “We’ve gone over it a million times.”
“Montgomery’s son said this to you?”
“Yes.” Elias was fuming. He didn’t move, not a muscle, his mouth pinched into a hard line.
“The implications here,” Williams trailed off, racking his brain for the correct words. “Are horrific.”
“How does he know anything about Baker and Pryor? I've never seen a case as locked tight as that one. I can't even access my own reports that I wrote, but he knows enough to say something like that?”
The President understood in far fewer words than I had.
An explanation was not needed for him. General Montgomery must have told his son about top-secret information.
Higher than top-secret, likely, sealed, inaccessible.
For him to imply that I was the mission objective, he had to know who we were, where we had been, and what we were doing in October of last year.
Williams said it elegantly enough. The implications were not good.
“I’ll look into it.”
“Is that it, you’ll look into it?” Elias asked.
“I’m the President of the United States, and you just stole a Russian scientist implicated in some worldwide terrorist conspiracy.
I think I’m going to have my hands full.
” He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes.
“Even saying that aloud is giving me a headache. Listen, I’m rather fond of you, and that affinity extends to Dr. Hayes by proxy.
So, I will look into it, but you’re going to have to be patient with me.
I need to be sure that Russia isn’t going to retaliate because of you. ”
“If anyone needs to be punished, it should be her,” Elias said, pointing to me. “It was her idea.”