Holidae H. Hayes was who Sølvi Kolstadt wanted to be. The raven-haired CIA Oslo station chief was not only exceedingly attractive, but she was also whip-smart, highly respected, and, after the next American election, was actually being considered for an ambassadorial post. Langley’s loss would be the State Department’s gain—and it was the right move.
“Triple H,” or “H3” as she was known, was eminently qualified. She had paid her dues in some of the best, as well as some of the worst postings around the world. She had steered ambassadors with half her intelligence and a fraction of her experience through moments of great crisis, never once taking credit, nor asking for any recognition. All that had ever mattered was the mission as she zealously served the United States abroad. She was a legend in D.C. and the President had taken notice.
Sølvi had no idea how much she had missed her until she walked up to the table, opened her arms, and said, “Carl was one of a kind. I am so sorry for your loss.”
Without giving it another thought, Sølvi stood and embraced her friend. She thought, alone in the privacy of her office, that she had exhausted herself of tears, but there were still a few more left. Quietly, she let them out.
They stood there together for several moments, not caring what anyone else thought. Then, it was Sølvi who stepped back and invited her friend to sit.
As they did, she touched her napkin to the corners of her eyes, drying the remaining tears, just as the waiter walked up.
“Can I get you ladies something to drink?”
Sølvi looked at her colleague. “The usual?”
“Are you okay with that?”
It was a well-intentioned question. Sølvi’s weakness had never been alcohol. It had always been drugs. And while alcohol could loosen one’s inhibitions, it would take a lot more than a couple glasses of champagne to push her back into that dark world.
Nodding, Sølvi looked at the waiter and said, “We’ll take a bottle of the Ruinart Blanc de Blancs and a dozen oysters.”
She was delighted to hear that they had just received a shipment of fresh oysters from near Sarpsborg, where she was from. “We’ll take those, please,” she replied.
As soon as the waiter had left the table, it was time to start rebuilding bridges. To her surprise, though, Holidae went first. “I can’t tell you how happy I was to get your email. I didn’t know if you were ever going to speak to me again. I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too,” Sølvi replied.
“I can’t imagine what you’re going through. What can I do for you? Better yet, how are you?”
“Still in shock, to be honest. Carl’s death was quite gruesome.”
“I spoke with the head of NIS and I’m not going to lie, I agree. It sounded terrible. I’m so sorry.”
“We’re beside ourselves. And I’m sure you can understand, that as an organization, this is a priority. But for me personally…”
Holidae jumped in as her friend’s voice trailed off. “Of course. Carl was your mentor. I’ve got to imagine you want to get to the bottom of this more than anyone else.”
“I do. Thank you.”
“So,” said Holidae as the waiter appeared for a moment, set down an ice bucket, and left again. “Is that why I’m here?”
Sølvi nodded. “But first I want to apologize.”
“For what?”
“For the fact that we haven’t spoken.”
“You know I only went to Carl—”
“Because you were concerned about me,” Sølvi interrupted, finishing her friend’s sentence for her. “I know that. It was a very difficult time for me.”
“I can’t even begin to imagine,” stated Holidae. “But let’s just pretend, for a moment, that I have. Suffice it to say, I have zero doubt that we could snuff that d-bag, ex-husband of yours, dump the body, and be drinking Chablis an hour later without anybody ever being the wiser.”
Sølvi smiled. She knew her friend was kidding, but at the same time she didn’t doubt that she was capable of it. “You’re a good friend. Thank you. Right now, though, I have my mind set on a different man.”
“Scot Harvath?”
The Norwegian nodded.
“I thought that’s where this might be headed,” said Holidae.
“What can you tell me about him?”
Hayes smiled. “First thing’s first. How is it that you got reinstated at NIS? I found drug paraphernalia in your apartment.”
“Which was part of a case I was working.”
“Okay,” said the American. “But how do you explain your behavior?”
“The divorce was very hard on me.”
Hayes smiled again. “I love you, Sølvi, I really do. But you were always Carl’s favorite. If I had to guess, I’d wager that he cooked up some sort of story that saved you from losing your job. And now, instead of being honest with me, you expect me to believe it too.”
“You can believe what you want. I’m telling you the truth,” Sølvi insisted. It was a lie, but one which Carl had stressed was necessary if she was to keep going in the espionage business.
It would hurt to tell it, he had said, especially to colleagues and close friends, but it was necessary. Without the lie, she was done for. Her career was over.
“I’m not asking you for state secrets,” she continued.
“Actually, that’s exactly what you’re asking for,” Hayes replied.
“My God, Holidae. What does a friend have to do to get a favor?”
“Simple. A friend, needs to tell the truth. Come clean.”
“I’m desperate,” said Sølvi.
“I knew that when I received your email. I haven’t heard from you since I told Carl I thought you had a problem. After that, you went completely off the grid. Even when you came back to work, though, you didn’t reach out to me. I got the message loud and clear. It took Carl being killed for you to reestablish contact.”
“Don’t make it sound like—”
“Like what?”
“Like I froze you out.”
“But that’s exactly what you did,” said Hayes. “And you know what? If you did have a substance abuse problem, and if going to ground was what it took to get everything straightened out, as your friend, I’m okay with that.”
Sølvi was about to protest, when the waiter returned, set two glasses on the table, and then presented her with the bottle of champagne.
She nodded, but remained quiet as he removed the foil and the cage. Releasing the cork, there was only the faintest hiss. Like a lover’s sigh, as they used to say in France.
He poured, she tasted, and then nodded again. Once their glasses were filled and he had left the table, she raised hers in a toast. “To Carl,” she said.
“To Carl,” Hayes replied.
They clinked glasses and took a long sip of champagne. It was cold and popped on their tongues. Not too sweet, not too dry. In fact, it was as it had always been—perfect.
How many times had they gone through this ritual? How many lunches, or brunches, or nights had they gotten together after work to split a bottle, or just grab a glass because they were racing to something else?
As NATO allies, they were expected to work together, but their friendship had gone beyond a work relationship. They enjoyed being together. Jogging, working out, movies, shopping, they had been tight. Very tight.
It was all the more reason that Holidae going to Carl with suspicions over her drug use had felt like such a betrayal. Friends didn’t turn each other in.
In fairness—and if pressed—Sølvi would likely be forced to admit that friends also didn’t sit idly by and watch their friends descend into a narcotic pit there was little hope of climbing out of.
Nonetheless, Holidae could have come to her first. She didn’t need to go over her head to her boss. It was something, right or wrong, she still was struggling to forgive.
It felt as if they’d had this great friendship, but the moment something had gone wrong, something that potentially could have impacted work, Holidae had been all business.
It had made their friendship feel false, hollow. It had also made Sølvi feel betrayed. Having just lost her husband, the betrayal of such a close friend had been even more bitter and difficult to absorb.
“What is it you say in English?” Sølvi inquired. “I’d like us to bury the hatchet?”
Hayes smiled. “Interesting choice of idioms. I didn’t know we had been at war. I thought we just weren’t on speaking terms.”
The Norwegian smiled back. “I’m a Viking. Å grave ned stridsøksen is what we say. I think burying war axes sounds better than offering olive branches. Peace?”
The CIA operative raised her glass. “To peace.”