| |
Miriam Davis closed the briefing notes on the conference table as President Monroe rose and shook hands with the Canadian ambassador. That was the signal everyone waited for, and the remainder also stood. The afternoon briefing with Homeland Security and the Canadian Security Intelligence Service (CSIS) filled the JFK conference room, along with a team of photographers. The annual Joint Border Threat and Risk Assessment meeting was mostly posturing for the media, but the Quebec border's increased security would be welcome.
She slid her glasses back up her nose and shook the hand of her counterpart, Patrick LeBlanc, the CSIS deputy director. “Nice to meet you, Mr. LeBlanc.”
“Call me Patrick. You as well.”
They posed for the typical photos, and she stood off to the side, out of the limelight. The disaster prevention and management director within Homeland Security kept her in the spotlight more than she cared. Director Johnson was overseas coordinating with the US counterparts on operational security measures and information sharing. He usually dealt with high-profile meetings.
After nearly two decades in the Office of Special Operations, she was well prepared for whatever Homeland Security could throw at her. The transfer from the CIA was natural and a stepping stone. She had risen through the ranks for the last eighteen years soon after HLS was formed from the ashes of 9/11.
As everyone made their way out of the conference room, her cell vibrated. Miriam braced both hands on the table to hold herself up when the codes flashed on the screen.
Her blood pressure spiked, and the pounding in her ears drowned out the dull roar of the dozen conversations in the room. Before she left the meeting, she fired off a quick text. It took several deep breaths to calm down as a shaking hand slid the phone into her briefcase. When she straightened out the dress suit and adjusted her glasses once again, only her flushed cheeks and darting glances gave away the inner turmoil.
Several minutes later, her driver navigated the staff car south to the Homeland Security building on 7th Street. During the ten-minute commute, she calmed enough to start thinking properly again. Miriam turned off her phone and removed the battery as she watched the sunset across the Washington Canal.
As they arrived in front of the offices, she changed her mind. “It’s been a long day. Can you just drop me off at home, Juan?”
The driver glanced in the rearview mirror and smiled. “No problem, ma’am.”
Miriam was about to correct him yet again when she saw the twinkle in his eyes. She had tried to get him to call her Miriam for the past eight years, but he’d never done so.
A few miles west of Arlington National Cemetery was a small subdivision called Virginia Square. She had bought a two-story Victorian home in dire need of repairs many years ago. Slowly, the renovations had restored the house to its natural beauty, and it was one treasure she cherished. She had sat on the front porch swing many evenings and watched the neighborhood kids play baseball in Quincy Park across the street. It was her calming island in a sea of turmoil.
Miriam never married and had no children. There had been several short-term relationships during her career, but her first love was the job.
When Juan pulled into her driveway, she caught his eye in the mirror. “Take the rest of the evening and all of tomorrow off. You'll not be needed.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Once inside, she threw her case into the office before darting upstairs to change. A glance out the second-floor window showed the sun would set in a few minutes.
“Hurry up, old lady.”
From the back of her closet, she dug out a silver-gray tracksuit and sweater that had never been worn.
“It’s never too late to start working out.” She paused in the mirror and added, “As well as, start talking to yourself.”
She couldn’t help but let out a nervous chuckle as she dressed in several layers. Miriam also ignored the shaking in her hands as she sat behind the desk and fired up the computer. The alert codes from earlier had started a chain reaction out of her control, which was more than unusual. What was about to happen couldn’t be stopped, but it could be guided like a missile strike.
A flurry of emails were sent, and transactions finished before her watch chimed.
9:30 p.m.
After she stood and closed everything down, Miriam glanced around at her beautiful home one last time and let out a sigh. She was never one to shirk from duty.
The antique walnut desk top drawer tended to stick, but with a squeak, it opened.
A large black box filled the drawer with a single button on top. Once pressed, the LED screen lit up, and she placed her thumb on the reader. When the single beep filled the office, Miriam removed her glasses and left them on the desk.
Her blood pressure spiked once again, and the pounding in her ears matched the rhythm in her chest as she unlocked the front door.
The lights across the street from the baseball diamond were off, and only a few distant streetlamps pushed back the shadows. She knew it wouldn’t matter.
Miriam left the lights on, the door unlocked behind her, and crossed the road to the park.
By the time her watch sounded a single chime, she stood on second base and stared out into the darkness.
“Just get this over with before I die of old age!” Her shout carried across the outfield and park. A lone dog barked in response.
When the single flash of rifle fire caught her eye three hundred yards out, she wasn’t surprised. Miriam had no time to react. Her feet left the ground as she was hurtled backward from the force of the impact.
The residents of Virginia Square never heard the shot, let alone the sound of a body collapsing into the dirt.
When the sun came up the next morning, there was only a small disturbance on the ground.