Chapter 3
After meeting with the president, Sparrow didn’t say a word until he was behind the wheel of his rental car. Lizzie Fox, his lawyer, sitting next to him, was humming under her breath. “Say something, Lizzie,” he said as he cleared a dark sedan to pull out of the lot where the Secret Service had told him to park.
Lizzie waved her index finger around and smiled. She commented on the snow flurries and the ominous dark clouds overhead. Sparrow got the message instantly. Damn, he should have gotten the message before she did. Of course the Secret Service might have bugged the car. Safe conversation only. Like he didn’t know that. Crap, what was wrong with him this morning?
An adrenaline rush was all he could come up with by way of explanation. It wasn’t every day a lowly civilian got to sit in the Oval Office with the president of the United States. Hell’s bells, never mind every day. Try like never, Sparrow thought to himself, his eyes on the road to see if any of the dark sedans favored by the Secret Service had pulled in behind him.
Sparrow forced his thoughts in another direction. “I think we have time for me to take you for a quick lunch before we head to the airport. It’s the least I can do. There’s a great chili dive not far from here. When I lived here years ago, I hit it at least twice a week. Gotta tell you, though, you’re going to need a pile of antacid tablets after you eat it. They keep the antacid bottles by the cash register. I think they make as much money selling them as they do from selling their chili. You game, Counselor?”
Lizzie nodded as she busily tapped away on her cell. “Flight’s on time. My husband Cosmo said he’ll be waiting at the airport. He misses me. Said Little Jack has a sore throat. I need to get home. Kids need their mothers when they get sick.”
The conversation for the rest of the fifteen-minute ride to Red Hot Chili’s consisted of tales of Little Jack that made Sparrow laugh out loud. He was relieved when he swung into the parking lot and brought the rental to a stop. Always the gentleman, he hopped out and ran around to open the door for Lizzie.
God, she was beautiful. Lizzie looked like a winter ice princess, with her long silver hair and long white coat. There was nothing lustful in his thoughts. Looking at Lizzie Fox was like looking at a rare, beautiful painting. The word perfection came to mind. He was glad he could count her as his friend as well as his attorney, all thanks to his boss, Bert Navarro. Sparrow gave her a quick hug, and said, “You were great. I don’t think I could have handled it on my own. I hate to admit it, but for the first time in my life, I was intimidated.”
Lizzie laughed. “You would have done just fine, Jack. Was it the White House or the man himself? You know, President Quintera puts his pants on the same way you do. He brushes and flosses just the way you do. And I happen to know he orders takeout from the very same restaurant we are going to dine in. Martine used to order here, too. She told me she left a note for President Quintera telling him which restaurants were the best in the area for takeout when she left office. As for the building itself, well, you have as much right, possibly more, to roam those halls as he does. You pay his salary the same way I do. Martine Connor, by the way, gave me the very same speech when I first went there to work for her.”
Sparrow held the door for Lizzie. A warm blast of air from a vent over the door shot downward. He looked around and realized he had his choice of tables. He ushered Lizzie toward the back, so that he would have a clear view of the door, just in case anyone was tracking them. It was a ritual he still practiced from his years of being a Special Agent for the FBI. Lizzie nodded her approval as she allowed Sparrow to help her off with her stunning white cashmere coat.
Seated across from her at a round table covered in a pristine white tablecloth, Sparrow said, “You don’t order here. All they serve is chili, ginger ale, and crusty bread with homemade butter. Dessert is a special homemade blackberry cobbler served with vanilla ice cream, also homemade. You can get as many refills for free on everything as you want.”
“My kind of place.” Lizzie giggled. “Cosmo would love this. Okay, down to business. The prez wants you, Jack. The job is yours. He’s already smoothed the path and rounded up the votes, so you are a shoo-in. I know you said you wanted some think time, but do you really want to wait two whole weeks before you say yes?” She held up her hand to have him wait until she was finished with her little speech. “I know that, for forever and a day, you will remember those three years you served in a federal prison for something you didn’t do. You can’t hold the president responsible for what a few rogue agents did to you. He’s trying to make it right, just the way Martine Connor did.
“All the good guys are on your side, Jack. You can make a difference. But in order to do that, you have to let the past go. Really let it go. Start fresh. Clean house. Right now, the Bureau is tainted; even the president said so. You can turn it around, I know you can. And that offer to head up Scotland Yard has everyone’s knickers in a knot. That alone has to tell you what you’re worth. So, why’d you tell President Quintera you wanted two weeks to think it over?”
“Just being ornery, I guess. I like to start new projects at the beginning. January second will work for me. Besides, I didn’t want to appear too eager. I called the Yard early this morning and thanked them for their offer but said that I was passing on it.”
Sparrow felt the special phone Jack had given him when he left the BOLO Building vibrate inside his pocket. He decided to ignore it since he didn’t know how much Lizzie was privy to.
“Does that mean you want me to tell them you accept and will be ready to walk through the doors at 935 Pennsylvania Avenue, Northwest, on January second, or that’s when you want me to tell them you’ll take the job? POTUS does have some protocols he has to observe, but you heard him say they won’t pose a problem.”
Sparrow looked down at the fiery bowl of chili a waitress had put in front of him. “I’ll report for duty on January second. God help us all,” he said, dipping an oversized spoon into a bowl that was as big as a Frisbee. He smacked his lips as his eyes started to water. Looking across at Lizzie, he couldn’t believe she had no reaction to the red-hot concoction.
“I grew up eating chili like this. But this is nothing like what my dad used to make. His chili would singe your eyebrows off, that’s how hot it was. This is good, though. Anything else you want to get off your chest, Jack?”
Sparrow looked across the table with watery eyes. Shit, she knows about BOLO. What to say, what not to say. He shrugged as he dabbed at his eyes with the cloth napkin in his lap. “Like what?” He ripped off a chunk of bread from the miniloaf and dipped it into his chili. “Do you mean am I going to stay here or head back to Vegas to wait out the time? I haven’t decided yet. Do I need to make a decision right now?”
“No. I was just making conversation. But, Jack, can I give you some unsolicited advice?”
Sparrow dabbed at his tearing eyes again. “Sure.”
“Don’t go near the BOLO Building again. If you absolutely need to talk to the guys, use that special phone in your pocket after you are officially the director of the FBI. Until then, you need to stay clean. Do you understand what I’m saying? Until you are the new head honcho, go through Bert, Cosmo, or me if you want to talk to Jack Emery or any of the others. You have to be as pure as the driven snow until January second.”
Sparrow was so stunned at her words, all he could think of to say was, “You know?”
“Of course I know. Who do you think handled the sale of the BOLO Building? I’m your attorney, I’m Jack Emery’s attorney. Actually, I am the attorney of record for all of you, even young Dennis West. How could I not know? You know all about attorney-client privilege. My lips are sealed.”
“I guess I’m slipping, Lizzie. I just didn’t . . .”
Lizzie looked down into her empty bowl and sighed. “It’s okay, you’re on overload right now. Come January second, things will all fall into place. You can spend the time until then deciding what you’re going to do once you take up office in the J. Edgar Hoover Building.
“Hey, look at the time. We need to head for the airport. My son is waiting for his mom.”
Sparrow pulled some bills from his pocket, helped Lizzie with her coat, then headed to the cash register. He grabbed a bottle of Tums and waved off his change.
“Oooh, it’s snowing a little harder, but it doesn’t look like it’s sticking. I’m glad you have this flight. If you had a later one, you might run into some problems. Straight through, right?” Sparrow asked.
“Yep. You okay, Jack? You realize I was never going to call you Jay, right? You’re a Jack just the way Emery is Jack.”
Sparrow grinned. “I’m good, Lizzie. I hated being called Jay even if it was for just a little while. You?”
“I’m good, Mr. Sparrow.”