Cloud Dust: RD-1 (R-D #1)(9)

"Yeah."

"Maye and Becker are with the President, tonight," August said.

"Of course they are. I understand things are a bit strained with the Russian Ambassador. Is the Prez trying to soothe ruffled ushankas?"

"Cori, most people don't even know what those things are called."

"Yeah."

"Corinne, I wish, well, f*ck." He dropped his fork and pinched the bridge of his nose.

I blinked at August—he seldom used profanity around me. I didn't mind when he did—I knew what all those words meant. I'd used them, too, in my seventy-plus years.

"Auggie, I have a long list of I wishes, and none of them are on anybody's list to be granted. I'm stuck here. You're stuck with me. We're both miserable. Admit it."

"I guess that's what makes you such a good writer," he finally looked me in the eye. "You read situations better than anybody I ever met, and you were never trained to do it. I don't know how you knew about the Russians, but there it is. Again."

"Something's going on, isn't it?" I lifted an eyebrow. "Somebody's gotten the drug, haven't they? That's why Russian panties are in a knot."

"That's why Russian panties are in a knot," he agreed with a grim smile. "We have an old spy with a ton of information he wants to hand over. They suspect we have him. What they think is that he's dying and we won't get much. If he survives, we could get everything."

"A double-edged sword," I said, allowing my shoulders to droop. "You don't know if he can be trusted. You don't know what he might be able to do when he wakes. You don't even know what he'll look like when he does," I ticked things off on fingers.

"You don't know that he'll live," August began.

"Count on it," I grumbled.

"How do you know this shit?" he frowned.

"August, stop asking questions if you don't really want answers."

"What do you see when you look at me?"

That question surprised me and definitely took an unusual turn. I blinked at him for a moment before answering. "I see a confused man," I said.

"Fuck," he said again. "Eat your dinner, Corinne." He rose and stalked out of the cafeteria.

*

"Two hours after having dinner with the President, the Russian Ambassador was murdered outside a bar in Arlington," the reporter announced.

I'd been rousted out of bed at two-thirty in the morning and herded toward the cafeteria by a decidedly grumpy Colonel Hunter. The Five were already there, with handlers in tow. I had no idea why I was included in this meet and greet, but I didn't want to have an argument with August about it; I just wanted to go back to bed.

Nevertheless, I sat at a table with August, watching the large television in a corner of the dimly-lit dining section as the news was announced.

"They think the President had something to do with this?" Maye turned to her handler, Jeff Chambers.

"You'd know better than I would," Jeff muttered.

"I didn't pick anything up from her," Maye huffed before turning back to the news program.

"What about the Ambassador's guards? Where were they?" Kevin asked.

"They were asleep at the Russian Embassy. Where the Ambassador was supposed to be," Preston Childers said. Preston was Nick's handler, who decided to answer Kevin's question before Carol, Kevin's handler, had a chance to do so.

Carol White was the only female handler in the bunch, and I could see she didn't like Preston's interruption. The corner of her mouth tightened and she turned her back on him.

"Do we have proof they were there and asleep?" Vance Johnson asked.

"None yet—all we have is their word," Brigadier General George Safer said as he strode into the cafeteria. "There's no evidence at the crime scene that says otherwise, though." He held up a flash drive and nodded to Ken Harvey, Kevin's brother.

Ken rose, took the drive from Safer and plugged it into the computer system connected to the television.

The crime scene was bloody and the images had been recorded before the body was covered. I closed my eyes against the violence of the scene and fought down nausea. Once the initial ill feeling passed, I opened my eyes and watched the scene while Safer described it in detail.

"No prints at the scene. Killed with a nine millimeter," Safer said. "No records of any meetings set up on his calendar, and nobody knew he was outside the Embassy."

"Somebody had to know. You just don't sneak out of there—all the doors are guarded," Nick huffed.

Becker was my least favorite of the Five. Nick was my second least favorite. Nick was smarter than Becker, though. By a lot.

"The Russian President is demanding answers, of course, and we have nothing to give him. Nick, we'd like you to come with us while the crime scene is still fresh, to see if there's anything you might tell us."

"I'll get dressed." Nick rose from his seat. All of us were in robes and pajamas—we hadn't had time to get dressed before we'd been pulled into the cafeteria.

"Maye, you should come, too; we're questioning anybody who was in the area around midnight."

"I'll be ready in fifteen," she rose and followed Nick from the room. Both handlers nodded to Safer and followed their charges.