twenty-one

When the morning status meeting for the Region One administrators of the Department of Homeland Security concluded, Tanya Gibbs called out softly, “Gordon, if I may, could I see you afterwards?”

Gordon Simpson, the Region One administrator, nodded from the head of the polished conference room table. “That’d be fine, Tanya. In fact, I need to talk to you about a couple of matters.”

“That would be nice, thank you,” she said, although she spared a glance at Walter Dresden, trying to see by his looks whether that character had confessed all to Gordie. But Walter looked cool and calm as he picked up his BlackBerry and legal pad, and strolled out with the other administrators and officers of Region One. The door was closed and she was alone with her boss.

Gordon Simpson was a tired old man who had some sort of illness that no one knew anything about, but which caused him to spend many an afternoon at Mass General. His dark pin-striped suits were baggy about him, and his face sagged, like a frog whose muscles and tendons were failing at their work. He stared at her from across the table, his wrinkled and freckled hands on the table.

“Tanya,” he said.

“Gordon,” she said.

He raised up a hand, looked at his yellow fingernails. “You’ve been quite active these past few weeks. Conducting after-hours meetings, traveling to New Hampshire, Maine, Vermont. It’s quite an impressive output, Tanya, save for one thing. You haven’t filed any progress reports, any after-meeting memos … it puts me in a very awkward position.”

She gave him her best smile. “My intent is not to put you in an awkward position, Gordon. Or any other position. My apologies.”

Gordon sighed and looked at his fingernails again. Tanya looked over his shoulder, through the sixth floor window, out towards the Boston skyline. Near as Tanya could figure, Gordon had been drifting along from one government job to another, from the US Navy Reserves to Department of Defense to a single term as a Congressman in New Hampshire—where he had lost re-election, in a state where incumbents were practically guaranteed a job for life, now that was an accomplishment!—and after some lobbyist work, here he was, head of Region One, after some favors were called in and strings were pulled, no doubt. No counterterrorism background, no immigration experience, just a gray bureaucrat who had bobbed along the currents of political decisions and events.

Just like the type of gray bureaucrats prior to a certain September day who thought they were doing a good job protecting the country, protecting Tanya’s best friend Emily and thousands of others.

He said, “You need to keep me in the loop for what you’re doing, Tanya. It would make my job that much easier. Especially since we’re having a GAO audit coming due here next week. How would it look if they discovered I was letting you operate without proper supervision?”

Tanya moved her legal pad over three inches. “I see. Gordon, those are all valid observations. I appreciate you bringing them to me. In fact, to show you my level of cooperation, I’m planning to have an unannounced drill with members of the New Hampshire State Police in a few days, along with other local law enforcement agencies.”

“Unannounced? Why? And what kind of drill?”

“Unannounced so they don’t get ready for whatever I’m throwing at them,” she said. “The drill will be a rapid-response to a border incident occurring at their northernmost county up there, Washington County. A cross-border incursion from Canada.”

“What kind of cross-border incursion?”

Wouldn’t you love to know, she thought. She said, “Not sure as of yet. Might be something as simple as a group of Middle Eastern illegals coming over via a stolen van.”

Gordon pursed his thin lips. “You’ll show me the drill protocol? Give me a heads-up on participants? And a thorough debriefing afterwards?”

No, no, and no, she thought, thinking of her dead Emily. What was deceit to protect the other Emilys out there? “Of course, Gordon. Of course.”

He winced for a second, like something inside of him was burning and hacking its way through his digestive system. He belched, didn’t apologize, and said calmly, “I know what you think of me, Tanya. You don’t think I’m up for the job. You think all I care about are budgets, forms, protocols.”

She took a breath. “I think we have a vital role here in this Region, as a gateway from northeastern Canada, to protect the people here and elsewhere.”

“You don’t think I’m doing my job?”

“With all due respect, Gordon, I think there’s a lot more we can be doing. Including you.”

“You may use the words with all due respect, but I’m not hearing it in your voice.”

Tanya said, “Then I’m afraid I can’t help you, Gordon.”

He stared at her and said, “I see. Because I’m slow, I’m old, because I don’t know my way around computers, Blackbirds—”

“BlackBerrys,” she corrected, instantly regretting having done that. Damn it, she thought, no need to irritate him further.

But she was wrong. He didn’t seem irritated at all. He just blinked at her, like that damn frog again, like she was nothing more than an insect to be observed. Or eaten.

“Thank you,” he said. “BlackBerrys. So I don’t know much about current technology, all the satellites and zoom-bang stuff, but I know people, Tanya. I know what makes them tick, I know what makes them want to work twelve hours a day, or be sent away overseas for six months away from home, or work in obscure and dangerous parts of the world that will never get them a headline or a medal, but only a cold grave.”

Tanya said, “I appreciate that Gordon. But it seems we spend most of our time here coordinating with New England state bureaucrats, seeing if we can get them surplus radiation monitors, and doing play drills in Boston Harbor or at the nuclear plants, instead of doing real work. No offense, I don’t see many people here working twelve hours a day, or worrying about being shipped overseas. We both know the most dangerous place to be in this building is in front of the elevator banks at 5:01 p.m.”

“We do the work assigned to us.”

“True, but I also think we need to focus on the second word in our department. Security.”

Gordon said carefully, “Tanya, we’re part of a larger organization, and we have to follow the proper directives from the Secretary. Procedures and protocols must be followed, even if you personally disagree on the direction she has given us. Or if some of your coworkers take offense. Or if your uncle, Senator Warren Gibbs, has other ideas of how we should operate.”

“My uncle has nothing to do with me, or Region One, or how I operate. And I haven’t spoken to him in many, many months.”

Another slow blink of the frog eyes. “Perhaps, Tanya, but it’s no secret that your uncle, if elected, proposes some drastic changes in the way Homeland Security operates. Changes that many of us oppose, including those in Congress. To make the agency more of an offensive organization, more of a paramilitary force, to—”

“To make it do what it was designed to do,” she said, feeling the heat rise in her face and hands. “To protect the innocents.”

“Like your college roommate? Lord knows, you do seem fixated on her. Tell me, were you … particularly close in college? Is that it?”

She took another deep breath. “That’s a cheap shot.”

“A true shot?

Tanya said, “Gordon. Please. I’m just here to do my job the best I can, and if it makes you happy and feel less awkward for me to file the proper paperwork and memos—instead of working to protect the people of this region and the nation—then fine, Gordon, that’s what I’ll do. That way, you’ll be happy, the GAO will be happy, and the American people definitely won’t be happy if we’re so focused on following procedures that we let something bad happen on our watch.”

Gordon said, “Whatever you say. You may go, Tanya.”

“Good,” she said, standing up. “I was about to leave anyway.”

In her office, Tanya made a phone call to Concord, New Hampshire, to the Department of the Safety, which was in charge of the State Police. She was eventually connected to a Major Carl Kenyon, whom she had met years ago at a police convention in Trenton.

“Carl? It’s Tanya Gibbs, remember me?”

An intake of breath. “Tanya … it’s been a very long time. How have you been? Still in New Jersey?”

She swiveled in her chair. “Doing fine, Carl. I’m now with Homeland Security, in Region One in Boston. Involved in a variety of matters, most of them classified. Tell me, they treating you all right in Concord?”

“Can’t complain, much,” he said. “But, if you don’t mind, I’m kinda pressed for time and—”

“Now, Carl, speaking of time, I was hoping you could make time for me. Say, tomorrow afternoon.”

“About what?”

“We’re planning an unannounced drill up in Washington County in the next few days. Responding to a cross-border incursion. We’d like your assistance in setting up this drill with other agencies in the area.”

The State Police major laughed. “That’s a good one, Tanya. You know it takes months of planning to set something like that up. Hah. No, seriously, when do you want to this. This summer? This fall?”

She swiveled the chair back and forth, hating what she was doing, knowing it had to be done. “How does Friday, Saturday, or Sunday night sound?”

“Tanya, this is goddamn impossible.”

“Tell you what, Carl. Why don’t you set up a time for tomorrow afternoon. We’ll get together, go over the plans for this drill. Then we’ll have a nice dinner and retire to a local bar. We’ll have a reunion of sorts. You remember that night in Trenton, don’t you? At the Hyatt? When I ended up in the wrong hotel room, with a duplicate of your room key? You haven’t forgotten that, have you?”

She heard not a word, just heavy breathing on the other end of the phone. She went on. “I popped in, catching up on my voicemails with my BlackBerry, and my, it sure was some damn surprise. I remember it was like yesterday. You in bed with another police officer, from Alaska, I believe. This office was straddling you, riding you … and that officer was looking right at me. Straight on so I could see his face quite clearly, and his moustache.”

“Tanya …” His voice sounded strangled.

“So I left the room and about a half hour later, you met up with me at the lobby’s bar. You told me you were involved in an upcoming classified Northeast Regional FEMA training session that could really bump my career, and we made a deal, didn’t we. I mean, we were both adults, we both wanted something … so you got me that training slot. I promised not to reveal to your sweet, chubby, plain vanilla wife what I saw in that hotel room. After all, it’s not like she’s from Cambridge or Brookline and would be open-minded about such a thing. As you told me, she’s from a small town in western New Hampshire, and your nickname for her is Dr. Livingstone, because all she knows is missionary.”

No reply. His breathing continued.

“I also remember one more thing. After we made our agreement, you looked relieved. You said that if I ever needed anything else from you, to call. So here I am. Calling.”

He coughed. She said, “So let’s have a reunion, you and I. It’s been a number of years. We’ll meet in Manchester, we’ll go over my unannounced training requirements, and then I’ll reaffirm my commitment to keep your secret.”

His voice was shaky. “That sounds … well, that sounds all right, then.”

“Good,” she cheerfully said. “You’re still married, right? To chubby, vanilla Miriam? Should I call to clear this with her?”

“No,” Carl said, his voice strangled. “You don’t have to. I’ll take care of it all. The meeting, the liaison with other agencies, and dinner. I’ll set you up a room at the Center of New Hampshire in Manchester.”

“Carl, that sounds delightful. I’m looking forward to it. What time do you want to see me?”

“Let’s do four p.m. tomorrow.”

Tanya said, “It’s a date,” hanging up the phone.

Then she looked out the window to the buildings of Boston. Her stomach clenched and rolled, and she barely made it to her office wastebasket before throwing up.