Chapter Eight #2
They rolled out of the airport and onto the express lanes toward Washington, DC.
The CIA had offered an upscale apartment near Beth’s, but when given the choice between a swanky place in DC or a more private small house in Virginia, he’d chosen the suburbs.
Small and private trumped swank every day of the week.
But before he could check out the housing arrangements, Camden had to deal with Beth.
He wore dark pants and a shirt that could transition from a twelve-hour flight to a boardroom meeting without much headache.
Almost an hour later, they pulled up to the Hay-Adams Hotel.
Camden had known what to expect of the fancy hotel and the people that would go in and out of its sophisticated space.
He had only guesses about the CIA’s goals in meeting him.
“You can leave your belongings here.” The driver slowed near some construction barriers and pulled into a handsome horseshoe driveway.
“Pretty good-looking place.” Camden eyed the strategic cover of the column-flanked portico that protectively guarded the hotel’s entrance, then he studied his surroundings.
Meticulously tended landscaping painted a beautiful barrier between the hotel and the taxi-lined street. Considering the gilded hotel where he lived and worked, Camden wasn’t sure why he felt so out of place.
“Definitely nothing to sneeze at.”
The driver laughed. “That’s one of the best ways I’ve heard this place described.”
They parked in front of an arching door flanked by gaslit candles. Camden jumped out before the man behind the wheel could try to get his door. “Thanks for the lift.”
The lobby reminded Camden of his hotel home in Abu Dhabi.
The two hotels didn’t look alike—the Abu Dhabi hotel lobby was gilded and gleaming in a way that couldn’t touch the Hay-Adams’s old money sophistication.
Both hotels held an air of expectation. Those who crossed their thresholds were people who did things in the world—some for the better, some for themselves.
But they were both places where access and privilege were both expected and guarded.
Beth waited in the lobby for him. Even without Parker’s briefing and her headshot, Camden would have known her the moment his gaze landed on her.
Though understated, she stood out in a way that demanded notice.
She had a great smile, and her presence probably made anyone whose hand she shook believe every word that slipped out of her mouth. Camden didn’t trust her.
She walked toward him with the confidence of a woman without a worry in the world, hand outstretched, eyes sighting him like a cruise missile locking onto a target. “How was your flight?” Her grip was strong.
The corners of his lips rose. “Uneventful.”
“Those are the best kinds of flights.” She led them through the posh lobby to a restaurant where she bypassed the staff and brought Camden to a private room set with a small table for four. Beth closed the glass-paned French doors behind herself and gestured for him to take a seat.
“Are we expecting others to join us?” Amelia? Anticipation percolated in his chest. Of course she wouldn’t join them. There would be no reason. But that didn’t quell the odd hope that she would appear.
“I just like room to spread out.” Beth tilted her head. “And, if I’m being honest…”
Camden doubted whatever she’d say next would be true.
“This room makes me feel like a princess.”
All right. No Amelia. That was good. Also, maybe Beth had told the truth. Who wouldn’t feel like royalty with the starched white linens and crystal glasses? The window treatments could’ve been hung in Buckingham Palace. The table setting was fit for dinner with a king.
Camden chose a seat that faced the French doors and gave him a good angle on the windows. If someone had to have their back to the world, it would be Beth.
She didn’t seem to notice and easily took the spot across from him, asking, “Have you eaten here before?”
“Nope.”
Beth picked up the menu placard placed artfully on their plates. “I hope you’re hungry. I really love the kitchen here. The—”
“You’ve been in the kitchen?” He hated the pretentious way she was buttering him up and wished she’d cut to the chase.
Her eyebrow crooked, and a smile curved. “I love their menu. If you’re a mushroom guy, their mushroom omelet will make your eyes roll to the back of your head. But if you don’t mind the wait, the oatmeal soufflé is so good.”
“I’m more of a bacon-and-potatoes-breakfast kinda guy.”
“You could do both. Uncle Sam’s treat.”
He tried to gauge her behavior and sense what she wanted, though she wasn’t easy to read. “So, whom am I talking to right now? The CIA or the socialite?”
“Can’t it be both?” Beth followed his gaze and turned as their waitress arrived with a friendly greeting and an offer of still or sparkling water.
He went with still. Beth asked for sparkling—no big surprise there.
They both ordered the oatmeal soufflé. He also asked for side orders of bacon, ham, and potatoes.
Beth requested espresso. Camden asked for coffee without bells and whistles.
Their predictability was nearly comical.
“All right.” He crossed his arms. “Consider me adequately wined and dined.”
Beth scowled. “Our order hasn’t even been called into the kitchen yet.”
“Why did I fly halfway around the world to meet with you?”
“You’re not even going to pretend to have a good time first?”
He forced a smile so large and fake he could’ve been on a toothpaste commercial. “Loving every moment.” His face returned to normal.
The waitress returned with coffee service with as many bells and whistles as were possible. Fresh fruit plates arrived.
“We didn’t order that,” Camden pointed out.
Beth rolled her eyes but speared her melon with her fork. “Back to the business at hand.” She nibbled. “I’m mostly here to answer your questions and let the powers that be know if you’re too nosy.”
His eyebrows arched. He found her honesty disarming, which only made him more suspicious. “Is that right?”
“More or less.” She shrugged dismissively. “We’ve had quite the clusterfuck on our hands, and I don’t know when it will wrap up. The fallout’s been scattershot and bad.”
“Do you know if Hailey Dumont is still alive?”
Beth chewed thoughtfully. “I don’t.” Her next shrug was far less unencumbered.
A heaviness pulled her shoulders down even as she tried to hide her reaction.
“I hope she is. I wasn’t their handler, but I spent a lot of time playing intermediary between them and…
” She gestured blankly with her fork as if the Dumonts’ social network was hard to explain.
“They were your friends?”
Her eyebrows arched as her eyes went down and searched for the best piece of fruit.
She used her fork to scoot each piece around.
“Yes.” She swallowed hard and stabbed a grape, which she ate quickly.
Beth sipped her sparkling water. “We circulated in many of the same social circles. Though they worked on assignments that I didn’t go anywhere near other than to meet the movers and shakers.
Hailey and Jonathan were hands-on in a way that didn’t work for my cover. ”
What kind of work could art people get into that a socialite wouldn’t want to associate with? “You going to leave me hanging like that, or what?”
Her lips curled as if she had a secret that amused her to no end. “I’m going to introduce you to someone who worked with them. It’ll be easier than reading you in from a redacted report. She can explain things in a way that I quite honestly don’t know how to.”
“Why isn’t she here too?”
Beth grinned. “Lots of reasons. But the biggest one is that seeing her office makes her job… easier to appreciate and less scary.”
He laughed. “I don’t scare easily, Beth Tourne.”
“Ohhh, big surprise, Camden Brooks. But you’ll have to trust me.”
Agitation fueled his foot, which tapped under the table.
He wasn’t the person who needed to meet anyone.
He wasn’t the one searching for answers.
“Why aren’t you talking to Amelia Stone about this?
” He didn’t want to ask why she wasn’t there, since she had no reason to be at their breakfast meeting—except she was the one with all the questions for the CIA.
“You have two agents breathing down her neck. They’re unhelpful and making her problems worse. ”
Beth took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She set her fork down, pursed her lips, and looked out the window. “I really wish Amelia hadn’t been there.”
“Well, she was.” Camden took a bite of melon. “I bet she wished nothing happened to her family to start with.”
Beth nodded.
“You guys need to rein in your bulldogs. The ones who have been knocking on her door, asking her asinine questions. She’s a civilian.”
Beth demurred, fanning his aggravation.
He tried to recalibrate his attitude. Camden lifted his coffee cup, which was delicate enough that he might crack it if he didn’t pay attention when setting it down. “What’s going on? What actually happened?”
Beth laser focused her attention on the lone strawberry left on her plate. She moved it around with her fork and eventually ate it, at which point she chewed methodically and bought time to formulate her answer. “You’re aware that we are dealing with an ongoing breach in our network?”
“Yeah. That’s how I was pulled into this whole mess.”
“Many covers were blown. Everyone was on a heightened alert. One of the Dumonts’ targets likely realized they were under surveillance and…” Beth frowned. “They turned the situation around and eliminated the Dumonts.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Why take Hailey if they killed Jonathan?”
“How do you know it’s a they and not a singular person?” Beth volleyed.
God. He disliked the way the CIA did business. Everything was fun and games.
Camden smirked. “Other than what Amelia saw, I meant the royal, all-encompassing they. Because I don’t know jack shit.”
Beth studied him. “If Amelia’s story is to be believed—”