sighed and stopped their progression. “I think my mother is going to go see Nick for a few days.”
“Alex, you left your car at…”
“Well, guess you will be stuck with me a few days longer.”
“Are you sure?”
Alex resumed their trek toward the hallway above them. Dylan was running into their bedroom with his stuffed rabbit in hand. She laughed. “Positive.”
Monday, December 8th
“Mr. President,” Congressman Christopher O’Brien greeted the man before him.
“Take a seat, Chris.”
“What is it that I can do for you?” O’Brien asked.
“I want you to see your son.”
“Excuse me?” O’Brien asked for clarification.
“I thought I stated that clearly,” the president responded.
“I haven’t seen Dylan in several months, Mr. President.”
“Yes, but for now, you still have that right; don’t you?” the president asked. He watched O’Brien shift uncomfortably in his chair. “You have a mediation meeting; I understand. One that Dylan is supposed to be at. Stop postponing that.”
“All due respect, Mr. President; I’m not sure my family situation has any bearing on…”
“It presents an opportunity, Congressman. Two words. Alex Toles.”
O’Brien’s disgust was evident. “What does that have to do with me?”
“Your son gives us unique access, Christopher.”
“What exactly are you suggesting?” the congressman asked. The president nodded to a tall figure that was standing at the far side of the room. The man slowly approached the seated pair and opened a small box in front of the congressman. “What is it?”
“What does it look like?” President Lawrence Strickland quipped.
“It looks like a toy.”
“Yes, it does. A peace offering; shall we say? An apology from a father to his son,” the president smiled.
“I don’t understand.”
Strickland laughed. “An apology with ears.”
“He may not even want it,” O’Brien said stoically. “Not from me.”
“Then I guess you will need to use your powers of persuasion to convince him.”
“How do you know she won’t suspect…”
“It’s benign. She’ll no doubt be curious about your motives. I’m sure your ex-wife will share that sentiment, but I doubt she will suspect the actual purpose.”
“What do you hope to gain from listening in on their personal…”
The president reclined in his chair. “Alex Toles has one weak spot, O’Brien. That is her family; who just happen to be your former family. I intend to leverage that. She’ll be far more open at home than is wise. She’s proven that already.”
“If she finds out….”
“Then make sure she doesn’t,” the president responded. “Oh, and Chris? Make certain you have those accounts well in hand. Dimitri will be in touch soon.” O’Brien retrieved the box that held the toy car and nodded his understanding. He mumbled under his breath as he paced out of the room. He had successfully avoided Cassidy for months. That game had been brought to a conclusion by an unlikely source. He chuckled at the silent admission that spying on Alex brought him a certain degree of satisfaction. “I wonder if Claire has any clue,” he mused, feeling an odd sense of empowerment in his newly assigned task. His lover often mocked his relevance in their initiatives. He had unique access; perhaps he had been hasty in his decision to distance himself from his ex-wife. A moreamicable approach might make him a greater asset. He smiled at the thought. “We’ll see who is the more relevant, Claire,” he smirked.
Brian Fallon sat at a corner booth sipping his coffee and turning a napkin endlessly in his hand. He was only moderately surprised when Alex contacted him. The idea had already sprung into his mind that this might be a good time to assess what FBI Assistant Director Joshua Tate’s motives truly were. Fallon was walking a tightrope. He was positioned within the FBI under Tate, but he was officially immersed in the NSA under Michael Taylor.
“Alex, you left your car at…”
“Well, guess you will be stuck with me a few days longer.”
“Are you sure?”
Alex resumed their trek toward the hallway above them. Dylan was running into their bedroom with his stuffed rabbit in hand. She laughed. “Positive.”
Monday, December 8th
“Mr. President,” Congressman Christopher O’Brien greeted the man before him.
“Take a seat, Chris.”
“What is it that I can do for you?” O’Brien asked.
“I want you to see your son.”
“Excuse me?” O’Brien asked for clarification.
“I thought I stated that clearly,” the president responded.
“I haven’t seen Dylan in several months, Mr. President.”
“Yes, but for now, you still have that right; don’t you?” the president asked. He watched O’Brien shift uncomfortably in his chair. “You have a mediation meeting; I understand. One that Dylan is supposed to be at. Stop postponing that.”
“All due respect, Mr. President; I’m not sure my family situation has any bearing on…”
“It presents an opportunity, Congressman. Two words. Alex Toles.”
O’Brien’s disgust was evident. “What does that have to do with me?”
“Your son gives us unique access, Christopher.”
“What exactly are you suggesting?” the congressman asked. The president nodded to a tall figure that was standing at the far side of the room. The man slowly approached the seated pair and opened a small box in front of the congressman. “What is it?”
“What does it look like?” President Lawrence Strickland quipped.
“It looks like a toy.”
“Yes, it does. A peace offering; shall we say? An apology from a father to his son,” the president smiled.
“I don’t understand.”
Strickland laughed. “An apology with ears.”
“He may not even want it,” O’Brien said stoically. “Not from me.”
“Then I guess you will need to use your powers of persuasion to convince him.”
“How do you know she won’t suspect…”
“It’s benign. She’ll no doubt be curious about your motives. I’m sure your ex-wife will share that sentiment, but I doubt she will suspect the actual purpose.”
“What do you hope to gain from listening in on their personal…”
The president reclined in his chair. “Alex Toles has one weak spot, O’Brien. That is her family; who just happen to be your former family. I intend to leverage that. She’ll be far more open at home than is wise. She’s proven that already.”
“If she finds out….”
“Then make sure she doesn’t,” the president responded. “Oh, and Chris? Make certain you have those accounts well in hand. Dimitri will be in touch soon.” O’Brien retrieved the box that held the toy car and nodded his understanding. He mumbled under his breath as he paced out of the room. He had successfully avoided Cassidy for months. That game had been brought to a conclusion by an unlikely source. He chuckled at the silent admission that spying on Alex brought him a certain degree of satisfaction. “I wonder if Claire has any clue,” he mused, feeling an odd sense of empowerment in his newly assigned task. His lover often mocked his relevance in their initiatives. He had unique access; perhaps he had been hasty in his decision to distance himself from his ex-wife. A moreamicable approach might make him a greater asset. He smiled at the thought. “We’ll see who is the more relevant, Claire,” he smirked.
Brian Fallon sat at a corner booth sipping his coffee and turning a napkin endlessly in his hand. He was only moderately surprised when Alex contacted him. The idea had already sprung into his mind that this might be a good time to assess what FBI Assistant Director Joshua Tate’s motives truly were. Fallon was walking a tightrope. He was positioned within the FBI under Tate, but he was officially immersed in the NSA under Michael Taylor.
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