The Powers That Be

Judy’s handsome—no one would ever call her pretty—face appeared on the screen. She was pristine, as always, and stared at Kate like a disapproving nanny would regard a misbehaving child. How does she do that—she’s only five years older than me? Kate thought, trying not to squirm under the other woman’s stare.

“Judy, how are you?”

“Fine, Kate, thank you. I was wondering if you had a moment to discuss this afternoon.”

“Well—” Kate looked at the virtual pile of reports to review, and then there was a conference with Denny to follow up on that meth assignment, as well as a half-dozen other operations in progress that needed attending to.

I don’t have time to hand-hold my liaison right now, she thought, and then was instantly annoyed at her reaction. No, it’s better to deal with this now, rather than letting it fester.

“What’s on your mind?” she said pleasantly. She had the satisfaction of seeing an inkling of surprise cross the other woman’s patrician features, as if she had expected to be brushed off.

“There seems to be some confusion over the duties that people are carrying out in certain departments. I thought we should discuss it and see if we could clear things up a bit.”

“Please, go ahead,” Kate said.

“Simply put, a liaison is a person who facilitates communication between one group or office and another,” Judy stated.

“True, although I don’t have my dictionary handy to confirm the definition.” Kate’s attempt at humor fell faster than the first and last time she had tried to cook a soufflé.

“Quite. Regardless, in this case I think that the person designated as the liaison isn’t being allowed to perform her duties to the best of her ability.”

Kate had a master’s degree in psychology, but also knew when the time came to cut through the double-talk. “If I can summarize, you don’t think you’re being utilized effectively?”

To her credit, Judy’s expression didn’t change an iota, although her voice could have frosted glass. “Correct.”

“I see.” Kate raised her eyebrows. “Well, how would you like to see the situation changed?”

A lesser woman would have been caught off guard by the verbal lob, but Judy didn’t hesitate. “Kate, quite simply, you have a lot on your plate. Directors around the world answering to you, the board calling you at a moment’s notice—like this morning—”

“And I appreciated the heads-up there, too,” Kate said.

“You’re welcome, and that’s the perfect example of what I’m getting at. Over the past several months, I’ve seen a tendency, and I hope you forgive me for implying anything, for you to micromanage things.”

Instead of flying into a rage or cutting the other woman off with a cold retort, Kate grinned. “You’ve noticed, eh?” This time she was rewarded with an answering smile. Finally cracked that frosty reserve, she thought.

“It has come to my attention. A liaison isn’t any good if there is no one to liase between. Although I do admire your aggressive attitude toward this job, which is often exactly what’s needed. But there isn’t a need to take on everything. The board has chosen the best men and women from the top down, or else neither one of us would be here. I can help, if you’ll let me.”

“My God, you must have crushed your opposition at the Oxford debates,” Kate said.

“I was part of the Cambridge team, actually, but we did all right.”

Kate had the advantage in the conversation, since she had had varying versions of it with almost everyone she had ever known for more than a month or two. Some ended well, like the dialogue with her mentor at the CIA, Herbert Foley, who had been instrumental in her getting her current position. Others, like the colossal throw down with her then husband, Conrad, hadn’t ended nearly as well. But through it all, she had let others come to their own conclusions and then moved forward accordingly. Just as she had with Judy.

“While I understand where you’re coming from, my main concern is that I certainly don’t wish to be cut off from the directors or our operatives in the field,” she said.

“Naturally, however, like every other organizational structure, there is a chain of command. Operatives report to their directors, who would then report to HQ, such as it is. There the decision would be made to either handle a situation or bring in more oversight. I can certainly prepare action briefs, or whatever you would like to call them for your review, and of course, if you request a status briefing on a particular mission or region, then we’ll crunch the data and present you with whatever is needed, within reason,” Judy said.

“Don’t worry, Judy, the one thing I’m not is a power-mad office dictator, although sometimes it can be tempting.” Kate laughed.

“Then, of course, your decisions would flow down the chain, as well, to be disseminated as necessary,” Judy said.

Kate tried to minimize her triumphant smile. It wasn’t that she was gloating; everything Judy had said made sense. In a way, she wished they had had this conversation about eight months ago, since all of this could have been dealt with and over a long time ago. “I think we have an excellent way to move forward, and I’m looking forward to it. And I think I’ll also take you up on those summary briefs you mentioned. That sounds like a perfect way to start each morning.”

“Excellent.” Judy’s smile was genuine.

“There is one catch, however.”

“And that is?”

“I can’t promise I’ll adapt to this change right away. I’m more of a take-charge-and-charge-ahead kind of person,” Kate said.

“Of course, and indeed, there are times when the circumstances may warrant that. I would just hope that you would request assistance at the earliest opportunity.”

“I’ll do my best. So, speaking of intel flowing up the chain, how are things proceeding with Jonas’s cover?”

“What is the term the kids are using today? Ah, yes, he’ll be the dopest arms dealer in Florida.” Kate almost choked on her tea when she heard the slang come out of Judy’s flawless mouth. “The allocation-request program has been extremely useful in this regard.”

When Room 59 had been established, one of the tenets that had been struck was that its operatives could use anything from another agency, no questions asked, as long as the resource wasn’t slated for the agency’s own use at the same time.

“The DEA has a lovely luxury yacht that will serve our purposes very nicely,” Judy said.

“I’m sure Jonas will enjoy that, and our other operatives can get a bit of sun as the deck crew. You’ll make sure they’re all familiarized—” Kate trailed off when she saw Judy’s eyebrow rise. “Okay, okay, hey, it’s what I do.”

“I’ve already organized a list of operatives with the necessary experience and background to handle the ship. From the captain to the cabin boy, they will all be our people.”

“And the ordnance?”

“Oh, we’ve got something that is sure to pique the interest of any PMC that’s worth their guns. On loan from Defense, but they didn’t seem particularly thrilled about it, so we do have to get everything back to them intact,” Judy reported.

“Jonas will make sure it all goes out and comes back in one piece,” Kate said. Both women checked their watches. “He should be touching down about now, with Marcus greeting him at the airport. Say, Judy, did you ever get nervous when you were in the field?”

The British woman smiled. “Every time. But you learn to deal with it. I’ve got to run. I have a meeting with Denny on Jonas’s cover, and we’re putting together the regional comm cell to handle traffic. I’ll let you know when that’s set up, as well as let you know if anything else comes up in the meantime.”

“Great. And thanks for coming to see me. I appreciate it,” Kate said.

“You’re welcome.” Judy’s visage winked out, and Kate leaned back in her chair, sighing with relief. Much better than I had expected.

A shadow at the door made her look up. Mindy stood there, her hand over the cordless phone. “Remember that message I gave you? About you-know-who?” Kate’s blank look spurred the college student on. “Conrad—the paperwork—you were supposed to call him back.”

Kate let her head thump back against the top of the chair. She pointed at the phone. “Of course. Let me have that so he can let me have it in general.” If it isn’t one thing, it’s another, she thought as she raised the phone to her ear. “Conrad?…I wish I could say the same….”

8

Jonas leaned back in his business-class seat and drained the last swallow of complimentary champagne, which he had specifically requested be brought to him before they came in on their final approach. A trim, neatly dressed flight attendant approached, and he handed the empty glass to her.

“Will there be anything else, Mr. Heinemann?” she inquired, using his cover name for this part of the mission.

“Nein, danke.” He settled back in his seat and looked out the window, watching the endless, blue expanse of the Atlantic Ocean give way to the bustling metropolis of Miami. Ninety miles south, not visible, but its presence felt all the same, was Cuba. An impossible distance for some, Jonas thought, and a lifetime away for others.