Chapter 73
WASHINGTON, D.C.
FRIDAY
By the time Erin Delaney stepped out of the White House, the day had settled into one of those crisp fall afternoons that she loved Washington for. The sky hung low over Lafayette Square, the leaves of its trees a symphony of oranges, reds, and bright golds.
Shawna Vaughn had come out with her and momentarily turned her face to the sun. “That was some briefing,” the Secret Service agent said.
Erin let out a breath that might have been a laugh if there had been anything funny about it. “You’re telling me.”
Vaughn looked back toward the White House. “Can’t say I ever expected to get read in on something like that.”
“Pretty intense.”
They walked a few more steps in silence before Vaughn slowed. Across the square, near the iron fence, Connor Jameson stood waiting with his collar turned up against the chill.
Vaughn looked at Erin. “You want me to stay?”
Erin shook her head. “I’m okay.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Vaughn studied her for a moment, then nodded. “Fields really cracked it.”
“She did,” Erin replied. “And you kept Connor and me alive long enough for her to do it. Thank you, Shawna.”
“You’re welcome. Thank you for trusting me,” said the Secret Service agent, who gave her a quick squeeze on the arm before heading back across Pennsylvania Avenue.
As she did, she gave Connor a friendly wave and he waved back. They had all been through a lot together.
Connor walked up to Erin and they hugged. It didn’t feel weird or uncomfortable, as it might have just a week ago. It felt good. And good was a nice place to be.
“How’d it go?” he asked.
Erin glanced toward the White House, then back at him. “Let’s take a walk.”
They headed north, toward H Street, and Connor waited for her to speak. He had always been bad with hiding his impatience, but today he managed it.
“The FBI has effectively taken everything over from Metro Police,” she said. “As far as anyone is concerned, you acted in self-defense. Given what Fields uncovered, nobody sees you as the problem.”
He absorbed what she had said and the tension visibly lifted from his shoulders. “No gun charge either?”
“No gun charge.”
They walked another several yards before Erin continued. “Fields was right to keep pulling at Olson. Turns out he was working for the Chinese.”
Connor’s expression changed, but only slightly. Not in surprise. More like disgust. “What about Wei?”
“They’re all but certain he’s tied to Chinese intelligence. He’s back in Beijing and out of reach for now.”
“And that stooge from my old think tank?” he asked.
“In custody. Quietly cooperating.”
Connor shook his head. “That figures.”
They got to the edge of the park, waited for the light to change, and then headed up 16th Street.
“You were right about China,” she said, as they passed the Hay-Adams. “Not about every detail, but about the shape of it. Taiwan was being used as a distraction.”
“From what?”
“Thailand.”
He stopped walking and stared at her.
“All the recent bombings over there,” Erin stated, “were meant to create enough panic and instability to help foment a military coup.”
His brow furrowed. “Why?”
“Because the civilian government in Bangkok had already said no to Beijing’s offer to construct a canal across Thailand’s southern Kra Isthmus.”
“Jesus,” Connor said, more to himself than to her, as they started walking again. “This is all about the Strait of Malacca.”
Erin nodded.
“A huge portion of China’s imported oil and shipping has to pass through it. That’s the choke point. Beijing hates depending on a narrow passage it can’t control, especially one the U.S. Navy can shut down at will.”
“Yes,” Erin replied. “And their fears only increased after the Iran war started and they saw the impact of the Strait of Hormuz.”
“And a canal across Thailand would change all that. It would give them a massive strategic advantage. The Chinese would be able to transit from the Pacific all the way to the Indian Ocean.”
Erin nodded again. “Beijing didn’t need to stage the coup. It just needed to help create the conditions where a coup started to look like the inevitable Thai solution.”
“And a junta,” Connor said, “would be easier to work with. It’s centralized. No parliament. No public debate.”
“Exactly. China would be first in line to recognize the junta—giving it instant international legitimacy. There’d also be economic and intelligence assistance, allowing Thailand’s generals to stabilize the country and shield it from sanctions.”
As evil as it was, Connor marveled at the plan. “So the bombings break the country politically and the military takes over. Beijing recognizes the new government, offers help, and then resurfaces the canal project. Talk about audacious.”
“You saw the Chinese better than the rest of us,” she admitted.
He looked away and gave a small nod, as though accepting something he had needed for a long time.
They passed a couple walking their dog and then moved to a stretch of sidewalk with no one close enough to overhear.
“How much of this is going to become public?” he asked.
“Almost none of it.”
He gave a quiet laugh. “Of course.”
They walked on in silence for several moments. Finally, Connor asked, “What happens now?”
Erin knew that meant more than one thing. “For the country?” she said.
“The country, for now, will be fine. I meant for us.”
That was the one question she had known was coming. Folding her arms against the cold, she took her time.
So much had been broken between them before any of this had started.
Some of it because of Connor’s PTSD. Some of it because he had pushed too hard, too often, and too unfairly.
Some of it because she had stopped believing there was any version of him that could find its way back to himself. Now here they were.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t think we can decide all of that today.”
He accepted that with a small nod.
“But,” she continued, “I also don’t think today ends with us where we were.”
Connor slid his hands deeper into his coat pockets. “So what are you saying?”
“I guess I’m saying the door’s not shut. That’s all I know for certain right now.”
“I can live with that,” he replied, a smile forming on his face.
They kept walking, side by side, with neither of them who they had been, and neither in a hurry to turn back.