CHAPTER 73
CSTC Headquarters
I’d rehearsed the entire conversation in my mind a hundred times. I thought I had it down pat, but as soon as Rowan Anderson answered her phone, my mind went totally blank.
Mercifully, Rowan picked up the slack. “Hey, Nat—thank you so, so much for calling. I’m so sorry for not speaking with you earlier. I just couldn’t bring myself to answer. You’re such a sweetheart for leaving those messages. I loved hearing every one of them. You’re the best.”
It was nice hearing Rowan Anderson say those words. She had the best phone voice. Things were looking up indeed.
I stammered through a You’re welcome and made some inane comments about the weather—and, of course, asked her how things were going. Realizing I sounded like a jackass, I apologized like a madman.
“It’s okay, Nat, seriously. Don’t worry about me. It’s all going to be alright. I promise. I want to see you again—soon.”
Rowan was so positive and enthusiastic, it was almost like nothing bad had happened.
Which confused me. As much as I liked her, I’d expected her to need some heavy-duty cheerleading—hell, probably some serious therapy.
After all, her principal—the former senator and presidential candidate—had been killed, and killed painfully, on her watch.
“Good deal,” I finally managed to say. “It sounds like you’re in a good place, and I’m so glad to hear it. I saw your picture in every one of this morning’s French newspapers. I can’t lie, totally caught me off guard. Wow.”
“You read French newspapers?” she asked with a hint of bemusement.
Shit, how to explain this one?
“Je parle un peu,” I laughed. “I like to practice my reading comprehension when I get the chance. Today was a slow day.”
“Well, that’s good to know, because in the extraordinarily fantastic news department, I am now officially reassigned to the French embassy as Chief Security Liaison Officer for the Secret Service.
I think it’s a made-up position, but hey—I’m not about to complain.
After all that shit that went down, at least they aren’t going to fire me.
Not yet, anyway. So feel free to drop by for a visit and show off your mad language skills. ” She laughed.
Unbeknownst to her, Rowan explained, Elise Courville’s dad had pulled some behind-the-scenes strings.
Ambassador Charles Courville, a well-connected power broker, had gently persuaded the administration not to punish Rowan, but instead to promote his prominent daughter’s protector.
Apparently he had made a very compelling argument.
The message to the secretary of state was crystal clear: The French government was calling in a marker from its dear friend and ally. Denial of this favor would have long-lasting repercussions within the diplomatic community. Gentle like a sledgehammer, I supposed.
“That’s pretty fucking amazing, Rowan. You should buy a lottery ticket.”
So that was how Rowan Anderson went from zero to hero overnight.
I knew shit like this happened all the time in DC, but not usually at this warp speed.
It was a clever move to drop the news articles before the announcement, too.
Bodies hit the floor and heads exploded at Homeland Security headquarters when that bomb dropped.
A little leverage with a side of humble pie for dessert.
She was on her way to the office to reclaim her credentials and her gun, Rowan told me, but she promised to stay in touch. She and Elise Courville were heading out of town on some embassy business, but we would get together soon to celebrate.
“No worries, Ro,” I said. “I’m heading south for a few days. Are you free later this week?”
“When you say south, do you mean like Argentina, or like Atlanta? Or is this another official Nathan Phillips classified adventure?”
“How about somewhere in between, and we leave it at that?” I didn’t want to be rude, but she should know better.
I would set her straight at dinner; it was time to have “the talk” about what I really did.
If we were to give this a chance, she had to be read in on the real deal at CSTC.
Shit, she had a clearance that was higher than mine anyway.
“Okay, okay. Go do your thing, and call me later. I can’t wait, Nat—I’m looking forward to picking up where we left off in Nantucket.”
* * *
A former soldier who does private military contracting isn’t quite who I need by my side just now, Rowan Anderson thought, but it’s worth considering how he could eventually be of use.
Perhaps she could play both sides again. Maybe.