It was a small ceremony in the seventh-floor conference room. The table had been pushed to the side and covered with a white tablecloth, then laden with drinks, pastries, and fruit. The empty space in the middle of the room had instead been filled with two rows of chairs, with Harrison sitting in front between Khalila and DDO PJ Rolow, along with the DDA, Tracey McFarland. Seated behind them were the other CIA deputy directors, while Christine O’Connor and Deputy Director Monroe Bryant stood at the front of the conference room.
It had been two months since they tracked down Mixell in the warehouse in Alexandria, with Harrison and Khalila engaging Mixell and Kendall. Although Mixell’s body hadn’t been recovered, that wasn’t surprising considering the Potomac was the fourth largest river on the East Coast, with thousands of small bays and coves along its banks as it emptied into the Chesapeake Bay.
Khalila’s condition after the encounter had been tenuous, but she had pulled through. Today was the first time Harrison had seen her in those two months, and he noted that she had lost a good bit of weight during her recovery, but her personality hadn’t changed. She ignored him upon entering the conference room, talking quietly with the DDO for a while before the ceremony began, not even acknowledging his presence when she sat beside him.
Bryant handed the two certificate folders to Christine, retaining the medals in his hands. Harrison and Khalila were being awarded the CIA Intelligence Star, one of a group of medals referred to within the CIA as jock strap medals, since they were often awarded secretly due to the classified nature of the respective operation, and subsequently couldn’t be displayed or even acknowledged publicly.
Christine read the citations, which were identical aside from their names, then Harrison and Khalila were called forward to receive their medals. Christine opened the boxes for each to examine, then handed them their medals instead of pinning them onto their clothes as was customary in the Navy.
After Harrison and Khalila returned to their seats, Christine spoke briefly, amplifying the citations and commending both of them for their exceptional performance. The nation, as well as the president himself, owed them a debt of gratitude.
It was a short ceremony, and afterward, Christine invited the attendees to take a break from their busy day and socialize for a while. Harrison looked at Khalila, evaluating how best to break the ice between them, when she stood and approached the DDO without a word to Harrison. He shook his head slightly to himself. It was as if he had been the one who had almost killed his partner in Sochi; the one who had turned aggressive and threatening while interrogating the Russian they had captured.
Pushing Khalila from his mind, he enjoyed the refreshments while getting to know the other deputy directors, most of whom he hadn’t met until today. After a while, some of the deputy directors departed, and Harrison’s thoughts returned to Khalila.
To say their relationship was complicated would be an understatement. In Sochi, she had almost put a bullet in his head, and he’d left Russia convinced that Khalila had no conscience or regard for others. Yet in Alexandria, she had saved his life while risking her own. He was grateful for that, but still resentful about what she had almost done in Sochi.
Christine called the DDO over to join her in a conversation with another deputy director, which left Khalila standing by herself. Harrison decided to engage.
She eyed him as he approached, but said nothing as he stopped before her.
Harrison debated how to begin the conversation, and after considering his conflicting feelings toward her, chose to offer a compliment and a barb at the same time.
“So, how’s my favorite sociopath doing?”
Khalila stared at him for a moment, then looked away, but not before he noticed the hurt expression on her face. Her reaction was unexpected, and Harrison regretted his words immediately.
“I’m sorry.”
She turned back to him. “You’re right. I know I’m a sociopath, but it hurts to hear someone say it.”
“Isn’t that a contradiction? A sociopath with feelings?”
“A psychopath has no conscience or feelings. A sociopath has … some. I suppose that’s the easiest way to think about it.”
“It sounds like you’ve had some counseling.”
Khalila shrugged. “I know what I am, and I embrace it.”
There was an awkward silence between them, and Harrison searched for a new topic. Lying on the floor of the Alexandria warehouse, Khalila had revealed her real first name, but not her last. He decided to try again.
“Okay, Fatima,” he said, deliberately using her real first name. “What’s your real last name?”
Khalila smiled. “You are very persistent. Unfortunately, I’m not authorized to divulge that information.”
“Whose authorization is required?”
Khalila’s eyes went briefly to the DDO, talking with Christine, before returning her gaze to Harrison. She moved closer to him.
“You already know too much.”
Before Harrison could respond, she stepped back. “Take care, Jake.”
Then she left the conference room.
Harrison watched Khalila leave, trying to figure her out. She was like a puzzle with pieces that didn’t fit. It didn’t matter at this point, however, since he wouldn’t be working with her again.
The room was almost empty now, containing only Harrison, plus Christine chatting with Rolow near the exit. She glanced at Harrison, noting that he was no longer talking with Khalila, then wrapped up her conversation with the DDO, who also departed.
Christine waited expectantly as Harrison approached. Although his relationship with Khalila was complicated, it paled in comparison to his bond with Christine.
They had already discussed the pertinent issues in a meeting in Christine’s office the week prior. Christine had suggested he stay on at the CIA, but Harrison declined. Angie had insisted he take a safer job, plus he’d spent more than twenty-five years in the Navy and been deployed for most of it, and a job on the East Coast with his family across the country wasn’t an acceptable arrangement. He’d be heading home to Washington State to spend time with his wife and daughter.
“So,” Christine said. “I take it you haven’t changed your mind.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m sure you understand my situation.”
“Of course. If I were Angie, I’d want the same.”
Christine extended her hand and they shook, but then she gave him a warm hug as well.
“Don’t be a stranger,” she said.