The Long Game (The Fixer #2)(18)

Vivvie’s eyes sparkled. She whispered something to me about her aunt and the night guard having a surplus of sexual tension before bounding off to deliver the food. Once the front door clicked behind her, Vivvie’s aunt turned her attention to me.

“Ivy has been trying to get in touch with me.”

That wasn’t what I’d been expecting her to say, but the second the words left her mouth, I realized that she’d sent Vivvie out of the room for a reason.

“I cannot give Ivy the information she seeks,” Priya continued. “You may tell her that it would not behoove either of us for certain parties to realize that she’d been making inquiries. I certainly cannot be seen answering them.”

When I’d asked Vivvie what her aunt did for a living, all Vivvie had been able to tell me was that her aunt had worked overseas. Taking in the measured tone in Priya Bharani’s voice and the pleasant smile on her face, I doubted suddenly that she’d been working in an art gallery over there.

Priya put her hand over mine and lowered her voice. “I am grateful,” she said, “for what Ivy has done for my niece. But I cannot tell her that the group she is looking for is known by Interpol as Senza Nome. The Nameless,” Priya translated. “I cannot,” she continued quietly, “tell her that they’ve been on various watch lists since the 1980s, or that they seem to operate primarily through infiltration—of other terrorist organizations, as well as world governments.

“I cannot speak of this—not to your sister, not to her friends at the Pentagon, not to anyone.”

Except for me. I was a teenager. Even a cursory check would show that Vivvie and I were friends. Vivvie’s aunt couldn’t take Ivy’s call. She couldn’t be seen talking to her, or to Adam.

But she could whisper in my ear, and I could whisper in Ivy’s.

The front door slammed, and Priya began clearing away the plates, like nothing had happened.

“So,” Vivvie said, popping back into the kitchen and grinning, “what did I miss?”





CHAPTER 17

I delivered the message. To say that Ivy and Adam weren’t pleased that Priya had made me her messenger would have been an understatement.

Bodie just rolled his eyes. “Intelligence types,” he scoffed. “When things go cloak and dagger, you can’t trust them farther than you can throw them.”

Adam gave Bodie a disgruntled look that reminded me that Adam was in military intelligence.

“So Vivvie’s aunt is—” I started to say.

“Vivvie’s aunt is an appraiser,” Ivy cut me off, “specializing in non-Western antiquities.”

“Retired,” Bodie clarified. “A retired appraiser.”

In other words: whatever Vivvie’s aunt had done overseas and whoever she’d done it for—it was classified. And that meant that there was a good chance that what she’d told me was classified, too.

“Would I be right in assuming you have homework?” Ivy asked me.

“Really?” I said incredulously. After what I’d just told her, she expected me to trot upstairs and do my homework?

“Please, Tess.” Ivy caught my gaze and held it. “I’m sorry Priya put you in the middle of this. It won’t happen again.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her that it would happen again. For as long as she was Ivy Kendrick, there would always be people who saw me as a path to her. No matter how hard Ivy tried to keep me out, there would always be times when I knew things I shouldn’t.

Daniela Nicolae works for a terrorist group that specializes in infiltrating governments and other terrorist groups. My brain didn’t stop there. It’s not a coincidence that her time in Doctors Without Borders overlapped Walker Nolan’s. It can’t be.

I didn’t say any of that out loud. “Were they involved?” I asked instead. “Walker Nolan and that woman they have in custody.”

That was a stab in the dark, but Ivy’s lack of response told me it had been a good one. I turned that over in my head. The fact that Walker had come to Ivy in the first place suggested that he wasn’t part of this group. But for all we knew, Nicolae’s assignment could have been trying to convert him.

“Walker found out what his girlfriend was doing,” I said, putting the pieces together. “He found the plans for the bombing, and he came to you. Why didn’t he go straight to his father?”

There was another silence, but this time Ivy was the one who broke it. “The goal was to keep the president’s hands as clean as possible, given the circumstances.”

The circumstances being that the president’s son was involved—quite possibly intimately involved—with a member of a terrorist organization.

“Your job is to keep this quiet.” I looked from Ivy to Adam to Bodie.

“Once the terrorist was in custody, I briefed the president.” Ivy measured her words. “This is coming out,” she said bluntly. “The ball is rolling. People are talking. It’s only a matter of time before someone obtains proof. My job,” she said emphatically, “is to make sure it doesn’t come out until after the polls close next Tuesday.”

Until after midterm elections.

Presidential approval rating. Transparency. Corruption. I imagined what the redheaded pundit I’d seen on the news would have to say if she knew there was a connection between this terrorist group and Walker Nolan. Any hint of a scandal could sway the results of midterm elections. But something like this? The president would lose his majority in the House and the Senate. He’d lose any chance at a second term himself.