16
“What’s on the crown prince’s wish list today?” Dayton asked.
No hello.
No good morning.
No my, what a lovely spring outfit.
They were speed-walking to the U.S. Capitol subway system, and the senior senator from Iowa was all business.
“Did you talk to his people?” he pressed as they stepped into one of the small compartments and shut the door behind them, preventing anyone else from joining them. “What is the ambassador telling you? It’s the trade deal, right? He wants to adjust the wheat and corn provisions again. Well, the answer’s no. I’m not going to keep—”
“Senator, the crown prince has no interest in relitigating the ag provisions,” Annie replied, lowering her voice as she sat down across from him and handed him a leather binder.
“Then what?” Dayton asked, flipping open the briefing book and trying to digest it as the subway began moving. “I have no interest in listening to more of his kvetching about not being able to build the interceptor missiles on Saudi soil. They’ll be built here in the good ole U.S.-of-A. by hardworking Americans, or they can kiss the deal—”
“Senator, His Royal Highness doesn’t want to talk about Iowa corn or Patriot missile interceptors,” Annie said quietly, adjusting her glasses. “He’s fine with the trade deal. It’s Yemen he wants to talk about.”
“Yemen?” Dayton asked, looking up. “What for? I thought—”
“It’s not the Houthis or the Iranians that have got him worried, sir.”
“Then what?”
“It’s Kairos.”
“Kairos?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I don’t understand,” Dayton said. “Doesn’t he read his cables? The president of the United States just bombed Kairos and its leadership to kingdom come.”
“Maybe so, Senator, but the GID says at least a half-dozen senior Kairos operatives and more than two dozen Kairos fighters were spotted ten days ago—some in Sana’a, the others in Aden.”
“And?”
“They were under Saudi surveillance for the better part of a week, then vanished.”
“Vanished,” Dayton repeated.
“Yes, sir.”
“And that rises to the level of the crown prince’s attention, much less mine, because why?”
“It’s all in the briefing book,” Annie replied. “But there is another matter I need to discuss with you before we—”
The senator’s phone rang.
“It’s the Times,” he whispered. “I have to take this.”
Of course he did. Annie sighed. She checked her watch, then sat back and took in the rest of the ride. And what a ride it had been.
After graduating from AU with a bachelor’s degree in history, she’d earned her master’s in international relations from Georgetown University’s School of Foreign Service, graduating summa cum laude. Then Dayton had hired her. The Iowa Democrat’s progressive views on economic and domestic policy she could do without. Yet his old-fashioned love of country, his nostalgia for small-town America, and his passion for what he called “the forgotten family farmers” endeared him to her. More importantly, his outspoken advocacy for a muscular military and a forward-leaning, bipartisan approach to foreign policy had intrigued her. Back then, such traits made him a rare breed in the Democratic caucus. More than fifteen years later, he had become an endangered species.
Over the years, Annie had found Dayton to be a kind and decent man. A loving husband. A devoted dad. And a generous boss. Dayton promoted her first to press secretary and later to legislative director before transferring her to the Intelligence Committee, where he had elevated her to his most senior advisor, making this conversation all the more difficult.
“Senator, there’s something I need to tell you,” Annie said when he hung up the phone.
“Sure, but take this number down,” Dayton replied, patting himself down for a pen that wasn’t there.
Annie scrawled the number on her notepad, then tore out the page and handed it and the pen to her boss. She had no idea whose number it was. Nor did she care. “Sir, this is important.”
But Dayton had other things on his mind. “When we get back to the office, we need to call Dell at Langley and Hutchinson at the Pentagon. And double-check to see if the Ukrainian foreign minister is still on for breakfast tomorrow and find out what he really wants. I was told that—”
Annie was not about to be derailed. “Senator?” she interrupted, but Dayton kept speed-talking as he scribbled notes in the margin of the briefing book. “Senator.”
Dayton finally looked up.
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Fine. What? Spit it out. We’re almost there.”
Annie sat back and raised her right eyebrow. Dayton got the message. He closed the binder.
“Okay, sorry—what’ve you got?” he asked, remembering his Midwestern manners just as they reached the Capitol.
“I’m giving you my notice, Senator. It’s been a wonderful ride. And I’m grateful to you and Esther for everything. Really. But I’m done, sir. It’s time to get off.”