49

DIRECTOR’S OFFICE
CIA

Jenna ran from the elevator down the hallway to Calibrisi’s office. Calibrisi was standing outside, speaking with Lindsay, his assistant.

“Dewey’s helicopter was just hit,” she said.

Calibrisi started to say something, then stopped. A look of anger appeared momentarily on his face. He didn’t say anything.

“No calls,” said Calibrisi, looking at Lindsay, “unless it’s the president.”

“Please, Hector,” she stammered.

Calibrisi went inside his office, leaving Jenna standing outside. He moved to the chair behind his desk and sat down.

Jenna went inside his office and shut the door.

“We attempted contact when we first saw the missile flare,” said Jenna. “He didn’t answer. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry about what?” said Calibrisi.

“That I may have got Dewey killed.”

Jenna looked at Calibrisi with a stunned look. Her mouth was open but she didn’t say anything, though her lower lip quivered ever so slightly. In that moment, Jenna felt lower than she’d ever felt, lower even than the day her husband was killed. Not because this was worse. The two were completely different. But it didn’t matter. She felt as low as she’d ever felt. She was out of place here. Out of place and without anyone. She had no friends, no family. She had nothing.

Calibrisi’s face was red with sadness. He stared at Jenna.

Jenna considered saying something, that it wasn’t her fault Dewey had gotten pricked by the needle. But she didn’t say anything.

“I’ll quit if that’s what you think would be a good idea, Hector. I never wanted to cause problems.”

*   *   *

Calibrisi sat back, running his hand through his hair, looking at Jenna. Her operation had exposed Kim. Beyond his nuclear capabilities, her operation had exposed his cancer.

“Dewey knew the risks,” said Calibrisi. “And, he’s not necessarily dead, either. What would you do if you saw a goddam missile coming at you? Jump. Jenna, you need to focus on what’s going to happen next, not what just occurred. We still have Kim and nuclear bombs that in a few hours are going to be on their way to America.”

“I don’t think the North Koreans know there’s a second antidote,” said Jenna. “I didn’t even know until Morris told me. They’ve undoubtedly ransacked Talmadge’s flat, but in all likelihood they were looking for papers, documents, computers, that sort of thing. Not necessarily a second antidote.”

“You might be right.”

“Unless they suspect Dewey is in-country,” said Jenna. “But, hopefully, the corpses on board the helicopter convince them otherwise.”

Calibrisi stood up from his chair. He walked to the cabinet at the opposite side of the office. He pulled open the door to the cabinet. Inside was a mahogany shelf with a mirror behind it. Atop the shelf was an assortment of liquor bottles, a silver ice bucket, and several crystal glasses.

Calibrisi picked up a bottle of Elijah Craig bourbon and poured two glasses a third full. He dropped a single ice cube in each then walked over to Jenna and handed her one.

She studied it, then took a small sip.

The seating area in Calibrisi’s office comprised two large red leather sofas across from one another and two red velvet chairs at either end, with a rectangular glass coffee table in the middle. Calibrisi and Jenna sat down across from each other on the ends of the two sofas.

“Bourbon,” said Jenna. “The only truly American liquor.”

Jenna put the glass to her mouth and took a healthy sip. Calibrisi watched with mild amusement, then bolted his own glass down.

“I don’t want you to leave,” said Calibrisi. “You may have, in fact, saved millions of lives. I’m upset at myself more than anything. Dewey tried to resign. He did resign, now that I think about it. Dellenbaugh flew to Maine to ask him to do this.”

Jenna finished her bourbon and set the glass down.

“All successful operations have flaws,” Calibrisi continued. “People die. The problem is, you don’t know which ones are successful and which ones are failures until they’re over. If Dewey dies but we avert a nuclear attack on the United States, it will have been a success. But it’s a steep price to pay.”