“Yes, sir. That’s the one. He’s the son of the operative who turned. Do you remember who first brought up Jackson McCloud in the context of a pardon?”
The President’s eyes narrowed, then his jaw tightened. “Hampton followed me around like baby duckling for days, constantly talking about the case. I finally agreed to pardon him to make it end.”
“And in doing so, you may have signed your own death warrant, sir.”
The President’s face was a thundercloud when he walked into the foyer.
A NSAA officer escorted them through the same side entrance the President had just used to enter. Within minutes, they were back in the car, driving away from the Naval Academy.
Nobody spoke for the first ten minutes.
Finally, Jake said, “Well, that went better than expected.”
“Did it?” Omar asked. “He didn’t commit to anything.”
“He didn’t have us arrested either,” Trent pointed out. “That’s a win in my book.”
Their new, clean phones buzzed simultaneously with a group text from Ryan:
POTUS called AG immediately after your meeting. DOJ opening formal investigation into VP.
“He believed us.” Jake looked up from his device. His relief was evident in his voice.
“Now we just have to make sure we survive long enough to testify,” Trent added.
16
Liv shook Marielle’s shoulder. Again. Marielle ignored her. Again.
“Will you get up already?”
Marielle pulled up her pink silk sleep mask and glared at her. “Why? A woman wants to catch up on her beauty rest. That’s a crime, now?”
“Ryan called on my booty call phone. He found that woman.”
Marielle was suddenly wide awake. She pushed herself up onto her elbows as Liv sank on to the bed beside her.
“Ryan?”
His voice was clear through the speaker. “We believe the woman you saw at Le Coeur is Diana Marsh. Liv, show her the picture.”
Olivia swiped her photo app and handed the phone to Marielle. She stared down at an image of a middle-aged white woman with a blonde pixie cut, wearing a tailored blouse and a thick gold necklace. The woman gazed into the camera with a lifted chin and a confident expression. Marielle could picture her holding an espresso.
“That’s her. Who is she?”
“She was a diplomat stationed at the American embassy in Tunis.”
“Was?”
“Her body was found floating in the Rhône hours ago,” Olivia whispered.
“The Rhône? Where in the Rhône?”
Olivia nodded. “Near Interpol.”
Ryan cleared his throat. “This next part is bad.”
“A corpse floating in the river isn’t?” Marielle asked.
