Chapter 7
“Frank!” Gabe rubbed his forehead with this free hand and wished to hell the room would stop spinning.
“Yeah.”
“I asked what you know about Jennifer Edwards.”
“Dude, it’s three o’clock in the morning.”
“I’m aware of the time, Frank. I’m also aware of the fact that I didn’t inform Colonel Estevez that you have a picture of—”
“Shhh, Jesus, man, what’s wrong with you? This line isn’t secure.”
“Then give me some intel.”
“Okay, okay. Geez. Who’s this girl you want to know about?”
“Jennifer. Or Jenny. With a y. Edwards.”
“I take it you struck out, again?”
“I didn’t…” Gabe began but stopped himself before things spun completely out of control. “Just tell me what you know.” It occurred to him that he should have checked her out before racing half-cocked into the Blue Oyster eight hours earlier, but a recommendation from Captain Reynolds…Uncle Lou Reynolds, for fuck’s sake…had seemed adequate.
“Jenny Edwards,” Frank muttered. “Jenny…Wait a minute. Are we talking about Eddy Edwards?”
“You know her?” Gabe quit rubbing his head.
“I know of her. She’s the colonel’s kid. Geez, Durrand, where’ve you been?”
A little hot spot called Iraq, he thought but he didn’t say the words out loud. “Just tell me what you know about her.”
“Well, if she’s got her old man’s temper, you’re not going to want to piss her off. Heard he court-martialed some poor bastard for not removing cover in the mess hall.” His fingers tapped away in the background. Frank McManning had taken a desk job years ago and had been happy to do so. “No use risking such a pretty face,” he’d said. Frank was, without a doubt, the ugliest toad of a man Gabe had ever met. “And if she looks anything like her old man, you’re definitely going to want to… Whoa!”
“What!” Gabe pulled his hand from his forehead and jerked his eyes up…a little too quickly. Tiny stars swam in front of his face. And although he wasn’t entirely sure he was right, he thought he saw an F-15 zipping between the constellations.
“Holy shit, brother. She’s a grade A yam slam.”
Gabe scowled. “I don’t even know what the hell that means.”
“It means she’s a hottie. A fox. A babe. A—”
He felt a muscle tick in his jaw. “I don’t need a physical description.”
McManning chuckled. “No wonder you struck out.”
“I didn’t…” Gabe gritted his teeth. “Just give me the information.”
“Geez, how long has it been since you got laid, man? You sound a little desperate.”
Gabe drew a deep breath through his nose and made a bid for patience. “I think I still have the colonel’s number on speed dial.”
“What?”
“Estevez. He might be interested to know about the life-size photograph you have on your bathroom wall.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” McManning said, but his tone had already lost its irritating hilarity. Frank liked to think he was a ladies’ man and a computer genius. He was correct about one of the two.
“Where were you stationed during that little photo op?” Gabe asked as if musing to himself.
“What do you want to know, Durrand?” McManning’s voice had pitched up a notch.
“Everything you can tell me.”
“The CIA doesn’t like people poking around in their affairs. I could get in a lot of trouble.”
“Yes, you could,” he agreed and let the words lie flat.
“Jesus, you’re a hardass,” McManning said. More keys tapped. “Looks like she graduated with a 4.0 from Cornell.”
Gabe scowled, unsurprised.
“She speaks five foreign languages, three fluently. She’s got a decent understanding of computers, and…holy shit, Durrand, don’t make this chick mad.”
Too late, Gabe thought wearily and waited for the bomb to drop.
“She could shoot the ass off a grasshopper at five hundred yards.”
Or a Ranger from across the latrine. “Is that all?”
“Is that all? According to the stats, she’s one of the best marksmen in the country.”
“What else?”
McManning sighed as if that should be enough. “She’s been with the agency for three years and applied for a field position four times.”
The first glimmer of hope shone through. If she’d been shot down that often, maybe she’d be willing to take a chance on something else. “Is there anything in there about tendering her resignation?”
“For real?”
Gabe scowled at nothing in particular.
“Is she throwing in the towel?” McManning asked.
“Could be.”
“You think she’d want a job with the best hacker in the northern hemisphere.”
Irritation growled in Gabe’s gut. “If I get a chance to talk to him I’ll ask if he’s hiring.”
“God, you’re funny.”
“Yeah, so let’s say, theoretically, she turns in her resignation because she feels she’s under-utilized.”
“You think a sweet little number like that would waste her talents on a field job?”
“Maybe she’s not as obsessed with her looks as you are. Will the agency accept her resignation?”
“Would you?”
Irritation growled a little louder. “What’ll they do?” Gabe asked.
“My guess?” The shrug was implicit even over the phone. “Offer her a shiny new title like analytic methodologist or leadership analyst. Maybe throw in a raise.”
“And if she won’t accept?”
“From what I see here, she is primed to be a full-fledged spook.”
Fuck. ”They’ve turned her down before.”
“Yeah, but she’s gained some seniority since then.”
Double fuck. “When will they give her their decision?”
“Who did she give her resignation to?”
Gabe wearily rubbed his forehead. “Do you know anyone called ‘Dickhead?’”
“I know a lot of guys called…” There was a moment of silence followed by laughter. “Dickey Mender?”
Gabe jerked his head up. “Maybe.”
“Mender is a dickhead, but he’s a dickhead with clout.”
So she could, conceivably, receive the promotion she’d been longing for. The promotion that would make dear old dad sit up and notice, which was, undoubtedly, her objective. But where did that leave Shep?
Gabe closed his eyes to the images that invaded his mind.
McManning was still laughing. “Ol’ Dickey wouldn’t—” he began, but Gabe didn’t wait for the remainder of the sentence.
“Can you stall him?” he asked.
The laughter stopped cold. “What’s that?”
“Their offer, if they make one. Can you delay it?”
“Sure. Why not? I could just go shoot Dickey in the head.” It didn’t take a genius to interrupt the sarcasm in his tone. “That’d slow him down at least.”
“I was thinking of something a little less drastic. Maybe waylay his email.”
“What makes you think that’s how they’d respond?”
That was a pretty good question actually. Gabe scowled, trying to remember the chain of events of the night before through the blur of whiskey. “I think she said she emailed her resignation.”
The other end of the line went silent long enough for Gabe to realize a new possibility “Could you get rid of hers?”
“What?”
“Her email to him. Could you delay that?”
“Absolutely not!” McManning said, but the answer was too quick.
“You could, couldn’t you? You could make sure they don’t see it.”
“No.”
“Just for twenty-four hours.”
“What makes you think they haven’t already read it?”
Shit! Another good point. He gritted his teeth. “If they haven’t…” he said. “If they haven’t read it yet, can you make it go MIA?”
“Not only would that be immoral, it’s—”
“I’ll forget the colonel was naked in the pictures.”
“Blackmail?” McManning’s voice had slipped into the region where only dogs and gerbils could hear him. “You’re blackmailing me?”
Gabe rubbed his eyes with his free hand. They felt as dry as dust. “Delay their offer for forty-eight hours and I might even forget you were the one spanking him.”