“And I’m assuming the cash is back with the treasury?” the president asked.
Boss nodded. “Signed, sealed, and delivered by our two favorite G-women.”
Meadows’s voice was as sharp as a tack. “And the abductors? Were you able to ID them?”
“They were all ex-military. Except one, who was ex-CIA.”
“You don’t think that’s…coincidental?” Meadows pressed.
Boss’s insouciant shrug was award-worthy. “If there was more to it, the people who could tell us about it are dead.”
“Okay.” The president’s strident voice sounded through the laptop’s speakers. “What’s done is done. We’ve kept you long enough this evening. Go home to your families.”
“Sorry, Madam President,” Meadows cut in just as Boss was about to shut the laptop. “But I have one more thing to ask before we sign off.”
Even though Sabrina couldn’t see the screen from where she sat, she imagined President Sandra J. Stevens nodding her head regally.
“Do you all still feel equipped to continue this work?”
Meadows’s question hung in the air like a lead anvil. And for long moments, it was met by silence. Deep, resounding, soul-sucking silence.
“Sorry, sir,” Boss said carefully. “What, exactly, are you asking?”
“You were all confronted with a situation wherein the promise Madam President and I made to you years ago was put into play. The promise that we wouldn’t intervene, for good or for bad. The promise that we would protect the president’s plausible deniability at all costs.” There was another pregnant pause before he finished. “I suppose I’d like a little reassurance that this most recent incident hasn’t changed our working relationship.”
“Leonard.” The president’s tone held a note of reprimand.
Meadows didn’t budge. “We need to know, Sandra.”
The easy way they used each other's first names felt oddly uncomfortable. Sabrina shifted in her chair.
Boss glanced around the table, locking eyes with each of the Knights before once again facing the screen. “The Black Knights continue to serve at your pleasure, Madam President. Nothing’s changed.”
Except…everything had. Because the White House had a conspirator walking its hallowed halls.
“Good,” Meadows said. “Then, we’ll let you all head home for the night. Thanks for the update.”
And then, mercifully, Boss shut the laptop lid with a satisfying snap. Multiple people around the table exhaled like they’d been holding their breath.
“Is it just me?” Becky looked around. “Or does everything they say now sound shady as shit?”
“I hate being paranoid,” Fisher muttered.
“Try being the daughter of a maybe-traitor,” Eliza grumbled, and then gave Fisher a wavering smile when he lifted her hand to kiss her fingers.
“Sorry, darlin’,” he told her quietly. “I hate this for you.”
“I hate this for all of us,” she countered.
“Here’s a silver lining,” Ozzie interjected, looking at his phone. “Graham just landed in D.C. He’ll spend a couple of weeks shadowing Lura Dougherty. If she’s clean and clear, he’ll ask her to be our eyes and ears inside the White House, and Operation Find Out Who Bishop Is will officially be underway.”
Becky wrinkled her nose. “Let’s workshop that title. Doesn’t quite slide off the tongue.”
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Sabrina chuffed out a laugh.
That was the thing about the Black Knights. They could joke even when they were knee-deep in shit.
“Black Widow?” she asked, looking at Boss. “Is she…?” She didn’t finish the question.
