The next gen, p.10
The Next Gen, page 10
“I will drop anything to come sit with you – and Ryann - and discuss this, so you tell me when you’d like me to be here,” Grace said.
“Today’s Wednesday, how about Friday at one in the afternoon? We can have lunch here in the Residence and discuss Ryann’s future. That also gives you both some time before the FBI takes action so you can work on her piece.”
“Perfect,” Grace said as she lifted the whiskey glass and drained it. “So, more tea and I’m going to try one of those cookies…”
Angie chuckled and handed a chocolate one to Grace. “Somehow, I knew the two of you would click. My favorite sister-in-law and my best friend since high school. My life is complete.”
Eleanora made a wry, snorting sound and Grace laughed.
“So glad we could serve you,” Grace teased Angie, bringing them all to laughter.
Two days later, Ryann sat with Eleanora, Sam, and Grace at the polished mahogany table in the Residence. A rich beef stew with rustic bread and a side salad had just been served and the four were taking a moment to sample the delicious fare.
Basic introductions had been made, but Sam dove in to start the conversation with Grace. “Ms. Holt, what did you think of Ryann’s article?”
Ryann almost dropped her spoon as she glared at Sam and gave a faint shake of her head. Sam just winked at her and turned back to Grace.
“Please, if I have to refer to the President as “Ellie”, then you two can call me Grace while we’re being informal,” Grace said as she dabbed at her mouth with her napkin, then turned to Ryann. “That was one of the best pieces of writing I’ve seen in a long time. Truly. I had spoken with Ellie, but she told me that any further discussions were to be had with you. I want exclusive rights to that story, to publish it in the Post when we finally get clearance to do so. I’ll also want you to write up a continuing series on white supremacist terrorism, from the past to the present. I think it would make a solid feature piece for the Sunday issues.”
Ryann very carefully set her spoon down, then twisted her napkin in her lap. “Ms. Grace, I graduated from Georgetown five years ago. I wanted to work at the Post but got hired by the Boston Sentinel instead. I kept hoping I could come back to DC at some point, but it didn’t look like it was going to happen. Now, I’m here, but the price paid to get me here has been too high. If I can help bring down these assholes and bring some justice to my dead and injured friends, then I want it. I’m not cheap, though.”
“With the quality of that article, no, you’re not cheap. However, you will be working directly with me. I only tend to have a handful of reporters that I directly manage – and you will be one of them. I think you can really go places, Ryann, and I’d like to help you get there,” Grace said. She pulled out a business card and handed it to Ryann. “Read the back. If that is a good annual salary, then let’s shake on it and finish our meal. We can sign the contracts after dessert.”
Ryann took the card, read the back, and held out a shaking hand. “I agree. Thank you for this opportunity.”
“No thanks needed, young woman. You’ve earned it,” Grace replied.
Sam grinned broadly, then lifted her glass of water in a toast. “To history being made, right here in front of us.”
Chuckles ran around the table as the other three toasted with their water glasses, then got back to eating and discussing more casual topics.
After slices of lemon cake and coffee, the table was cleared once more so Grace and Ryann could go over the contract. It was a simple two page standard hiring contract with a few additions that both wrote in before they decided it was good enough and signed it.
“Now I have a job again, I just need a place to live,” Ryann said as she leaned back and took a sip of her coffee.
“I’ve got that handled, I think,” Eleanora replied. “See, I bought this house in DC and had it remodeled. I rented out the downstairs, but the upstairs was to be for my sons to use when they were in town.
Since they’re now in the process of buying their own places, how would you feel about renting from me? I guarantee the rent is cheaper than anything you’ll find anywhere else, and the downstairs neighbors are pretty friendly.”
Sam bounced in her seat. “Yes, say yes! You’d be living upstairs from me.”
“I would like that, thank you,” Ryann said, voice thickening slightly. “I’m sorry, this is…it’s a lot. You’ve all been so kind.”
Sam reached out to give Ryann’s knee a light squeeze. “You’ve let us be kind.”
“Oh, and it comes furnished. If you don’t like something and want to replace it, just let Sam know and we can shuffle things around and put stuff in storage,” Eleanora said.
“What if I break something?” Ryann asked.
Eleanora shrugged. “Buy a new one? I’m not worried about it, honestly. I furnished it for my sons to use, and I honestly didn’t expect the furnishings to leave the place except to maybe go to a thrift store or into the trash. You’ll be doing me a favor by using the things instead of me having to get it all boxed up and stored. I heard your things were destroyed, all but a box at a friend’s place? Well, I can send someone to pick up the box - and your cat – and bring them down here once you’re not under protection, when you’re moved in and getting settled. Is that okay?”
Ryann whispered a soft, “thank you” before she choked out “excuse me” and left the room towards the bathroom.
“She’ll be fine. It’s just been a really shitty couple of weeks. I’m glad you two worked something out, because she’s good people and she needed something good to happen,” Sam said.
“So, her apartment got destroyed and two of her friends were attacked – why?” Grace asked.
“Because of that article,” Eleanora said. “Brian Cole and Joseph Andrews were her tech guys when she bugged Nolan’s jacket. Brian was driven off the road and into a pole and has just been moved to a rehab facility. Fractures in his spine and a badly broken leg require rehabilitation so he can walk again. Joseph Andrews was killed when he was mugged a block from his home, the same night Brian was in the accident and Ryann’s apartment was destroyed. Someone wanted them all dead. That is why Ryann is in protective custody.”
“So, it was leaked that she wrote the article and what it was about?” Grace asked.
“That’s what it looks like. It fits, but doesn’t quite track,” Sam said. “Because she was already under protection when her place was trashed and the guys were attacked. So, it was someone who knew she had the article after she went into hiding.”
“I hadn’t realized that,” Eleanora said. “I just assumed it was close in timing because so much was going on at the same time.”
“I told the Secret Service guys watching her. They said that two days before the attacks was when the FBI interviewed her,” Sam said.
“So, someone in the FBI leaked that she’d written the story? Good gods, what a clusterfuck,” Eleanora said.
“When is it all supposed to go down?” Grace asked.
“It’ll be over by next Friday. I can’t tell you exactly when, for security reasons, but Ryann should be able to start her new life next weekend,” Eleanora said.
“That’s good to hear,” Ryann said as she came back into the room, face freshly washed and makeup touched up. “Sorry for needing a minute.”
“Don’t worry about it. You’ve had a rough road lately, and I’m just glad I can be a part of smoothing things out for you. Just meet your deadlines, or it’ll get bumpy again,” Grace teased lightly.
“Funny,” Ryann quipped back. “I tend to get things done well before the deadline. It’s just this story got held up for reasons beyond my control.”
Eleanora chuckled. “Yeah, blame the President. It works for most things, right?”
“I know I blame her for simply everything,” Sam teased and everyone laughed.
Chapter Thirteen
Eleanora had to attend a funeral over the weekend, so Samantha had a couple of days off. She slept in, showered, had a late brunch, then settled at her desk at home to get a little ahead on homework. Bouncing in her seat to the music coming through her earbuds, she didn’t hear the door open and only glanced up when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Sinjin was taking off his coat and boots, so Sam pulled her earbuds out, and said, “Hey.”
Sinjin turned and gave her a shy smile. In one hand was a paper bag, the other held a bouquet of multicolored roses.
“I was hoping to catch you home today. I brought you something, and I need to apologize,” Sinjin said as he padded over to where she sat, still wide-eyed at the roses.
“Are those for me?” Sam asked.
“Yeah,” Sinjin replied and handed her the roses.
Sam buried her nose in the blooms and breathed in the scent, then jumped to her feet and headed into the kitchen.
“I’m not done, Sam,” Sinjin called out.
“Then come in here. They’ll be shocked from the cold, I have to get them in warm water quickly or they’ll wilt,” Sam replied.
Sinjin shook his head and followed her into the kitchen. “So, I’ve been a dick lately and I wanted you to understand why.”
“I figured it was a PTSD thing or something,” Sam said. “I’m not the kind of girl who automatically assumes I did something wrong because the man in my life isn’t happy. Your happiness isn’t focused on me any more than mine is on you. We’re healthy that way.”
“I didn’t know what was happening until I had a chat with Kane and he made me pull my head out of my ass,” Sinjin said.
“I see,” Sam said as she cut the stems and arranged the roses in the vase.
“I’m sorry, Samantha,” Sinjin said as he put a hand on her shoulder.
“It wasn’t you, it was me. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop and to get kicked out. It was feeling too much like family, and every time before, when I finally felt like I belonged, something happened to end it. Even with the Air Force, I finally felt like I knew what I was doing, then I got blown up and ended up in the Facility. So, I started acting like it was already a done deal – giving you all a reason to boot me out.”
Sam turned to Sinjin and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. “Welcome back to me,” she whispered. “I’ve missed you, my friend.”
Sinjin kissed her cheek, his arms wrapped around her to hold her close. They stood like that for a few minutes until he whispered in her ear, “I also brought those giant cinnamon buns from the bakery. They’re in the bag.”
Sam squealed with happiness and kissed his lips, then handed him the vase. “Put that on the shelf next to our desks so I can see them but they won’t threaten the computers. I’ll make a fresh pot of coffee and turn the oven on. I want to warm them up first.”
“Of course,” Sinjin said. “Warm is the only way to eat those.”
Mugs of coffee, warm cinnamon buns on little plates, and a stack of napkins sat on the coffee table. Sam and Sinjin curled on the floor cushions by the gas fireplace. The warmth felt good and the cheerful flames brightened the space.
Sam licked frosting off of her fingers and sighed. “Oh, so good. I needed a good surprise this weekend. Next week is going to be crazy busy. I’ve got two papers due and some big stuff going down at work. And I’ve missed hanging out with you and talking about my day or school or whatever is going on. What’s been up with you?”
“I got an A on my developer project for class, and the teacher liked it so much, he’s got me in a side class starting next month on how to move a product from dev to sales. How to patent it and all of that,” Sinjin said.
“And I’ve been helping keep an eye on Dr. Delacroix after he got a death threat.”
“Wait, what?” Sam asked as she sat up and turned to look at him. “Dr. Delacroix got a death threat? Is the FBI on it?”
“Why would the FBI be on it? It’s probably just some disgruntled student.”
“No, the FBI has to be brought in. Does he have protection at home?”
“Not that I know of? The police are driving by more often, but we’re only watching him on campus.”
“Shit, shit, shit…” Sam said as she got to her feet and grabbed her phone off the desk. “Kane, yeah, it’s Sam. No, we’re fine here. I need you to send someone to watch Dr. Delacroix at his home. Yeah, I’ll get the FBI involved in a minute, but I know you can get someone over there now. Thanks.” She disconnected the call and dialed again. “Director Jenkins, this is Samantha Eagleson, the President’s assistant. In regards to that case with Randall, I need you to get someone over to Dr. Pierre Delacroix’s home near Georgetown. I just learned he’s had a credible threat against his life.”
“Thank you, Samantha. I’ll get someone over there right away,” Jenkins said.
“I had my uncle Kane send a Hero over to watch until I could contact you and get people over there.”
“I appreciate that. Kane Phillips has a great team. I’ll update you shortly.”
“Thank you, Director. Good evening,” Sam said and disconnected the call.
“Were you just talking to the Director of the FBI?” Sinjin asked her, eyes wide.
“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Sam said as she paced the living room. “I should probably call Aunt Ellie, but there’s nothing to do yet. It’s being handled. I’ll just put it in my morning report. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.” Then she dropped back down next to Sinjin and reached for her coffee. “Dr. Delacroix helped me with something and it is connected to a big thing going on next week and if they’re threatening him, it’s probably because of that and it’s a very real danger. One guy is in rehab and another is dead, and a third person is in protective custody. This isn’t something to dick around with.”
“Wow, I’m glad I said something then,” Sinjin said and reached out to rub her back gently.
“I am, too. I wish I could tell you more, but I can’t. I just hope we’re in time to keep him safe.”
They finished the buns, refilled their coffee, and Sam went back to doing homework while Sinjin cleaned up their dishes before he settled in to work on some of his own school work.
Close to four hours had passed before Kane came in the door. He hung up his coat, took off his boots, then walked wearily over to Sam and pulled her into a hug.
Kane held her for a couple of moments, then whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
Sam hiccupped a breath and hugged him tight, then pulled back and searched his face. “Have you eaten?”
“Yeah, but coffee would be great if there is any,” Kane said.
“Sit and I’ll get you some, then you can tell us what happened,” Sam said as she went into the kitchen. She came back with his favorite mug full of coffee, handed it to him, then sat down at her desk. Kane settled in the wing chair nearby.
“I got there probably about twenty minutes after you called. The front door was busted open but had been pulled closed enough that someone walking by wouldn’t notice in the dark. I drew my gun because I could already smell blood even with the wind blowing outside. I entered and left the lights as they were – which was mostly off. I can see fine without them anyway, as you know. I found him in his study, face down on his desk, blood everywhere. They didn’t just kill him, they tortured him. I couldn’t hear a heartbeat, so I didn’t touch anything, just finished clearing the house so anyone else showing up wouldn’t get hurt. I went back outside and waited for the FBI to get there. An Agent Lappe showed up on scene, and said he’d take it from there. I waited until the CSI team showed up and gave them my report, then came home,” Kane said.
“I’m surprised Jenkins didn’t call me back,” Sam said. “Let me send him a text and see if he needs anything more from you.”
Text: “Director Jenkins, do you need any more info from Kane in regards to Dr. Delacroix’s murder?”
Text: “Wait, murder? I haven’t heard anything. I sent Lappe over hours ago.” ’
Text: “Call me when you can talk voice, please. Thanks.”
Sam looked up at Kane. “He’s not heard about any murder yet. I asked him to call, so you can tell him everything you saw, okay?”
“Yeah, sure, no problem. I’m sorry about your professor, Sam.”
“And I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner,” Sinjin said. “I should’ve asked him if he needed protection at home – I just didn’t think about it. We got to talking about a database project he was working on and I spaced on it. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not on you, Sinjin. I should’ve made a list of other at risk people and he should have been on it, and I didn’t. He was so peripheral to the whole thing, it doesn’t make sense,” Sam said.
Her phone rang and she answered. “Yes, Director. Kane went to the house first, and I’ve got him here so he can tell you everything.” She handed the phone to Kane and went into the kitchen to make more coffee. It was going to be a long night.
Chapter Fourteen
“My fellow Americans. Early this morning, the FBI served warrants on over two hundred people in connection with the terrorist attacks in Atlanta, Seattle, and Boston. The multi-state raid was a success in everything, except the capture of the alleged ringleader, Rayland Patrick Nolan. Nolan is wanted for terrorist attacks, financial fraud, suspicion of treason against the United States, and multiple counts of murder. If you see this man, do not approach. Call 911 and let law enforcement officials handle him. He is to be considered armed and dangerous,”
Eleanora spoke as a couple of photos of Nolan with short hair, long hair, facial hair, clean shaven, were shown with an eight-hundred number for the feds and the generic assistance number of 911.
“If you have any information on the whereabouts of Rayland Nolan, please contact your local law enforcement officials or call the eight-hundred number at the bottom of your screen. Thank you and stay safe out there.”
