The stone wall surrounding the front of the mansion was taller than Jamie, with security cameras mounted on every support pillar in plas-glass spheres. The Secret Service patrolled the property and the street, along with the Callahans’ private security, none of whom stopped theirapproach.
The mansion was located in a wealthy neighborhood of the D.C. megacity, where houses hadn’t given way to residential skyscrapers and came with actual front yards. The massive oak tree out front had lost all its leaves, the bare branches swaying in the wind. They walked quietly up the stone walkway to the front door being guarded by two agents, who only nodded ingreeting.
They entered the home and stepped into a hurricane ofactivity.
For a moment, they just stood there, taking everyone in, from the aides furiously typing out communications on their tablets in the parlor to their left, to the people conferencing in the hallway and others monitoring polling in real time in thelivingroom.
Kyle shared a look with Jamie before they cut through the scattered crowd for the stairs. They took the steps two at a time to the second floor, where it was less crowded in the hallways, but just as gloomy and tense. Jamie led him to a crowded wood-paneled office where Richard and Charlotte were holding court with their top aides. The moment Jamie entered the room, conversationquieteddown.
Richard was the one to break the silence. “Give me ten minutes alone withmyson.”
Kyle stepped aside as the office emptied of everyone working on the campaign. He was about to leave as well when Jamie shook hishead. “Stay.”
Kyle glanced over at Jamie’s parents, who were watching them, before he palmed the door shut after the last person had left and locked it. Jamie pulled out an electronic jammer and activated it, hiding their conversation frompryingears.
“The MDF is closing out our mission. Our covers were burned in Boston and the enemy knows we’re metahumans,” Jamie said, cutting right to thechase.
Richard sighed heavily while Charlotte had to take a seat. “What does that meanforus?”
“At the moment? More security. The director of the Secret Service has been read in on the situation by the MDF, so he is aware of my classified identity and will allocate agents to youaccordingly.”
“And you? How are you safe in all this if the enemy knows who you are?” Charlotte wantedtoknow.
“I’ve never been safe, Mother. The risk comes withthejob.”
“We have his six,” Kyle couldn’t helpbutsay.
Speaking up drew Richard and Charlotte’s undivided attention. Kyle had only been in their presence half a dozen times in the past year and a half. It never stopped being uncomfortable. The difference in their social status was starker with Jamie’s parents than with Jamie. They embodied their inherited wealth far more than Jamie did and Kyle always felt like he never measured uptothem.
“We know you do,” Charlottefinallysaid.
“I’d ask if this means you’ll have more time to help with the campaign, but I think I know the answer to that,”Richardsaid.
“The MDF has heard rumors of a Congressional investigation against you,” Jamietoldhim.
Richard smiled wryly, though there was no humor in the look. “We have quite a few of those going on right now. Not to mentionThe New YorkTimes.”
“Anotherexposé?”
“Apparently theTimesdidn’t appreciate us excluding their reporter from the press pool. They’reretaliating.”
Kyle didn’t think it was retaliation so much as following the clues to the detailed lies the MDF had used to build up their background for the Pavluhkin mission. Like the rest of the team, Kyle had a feeling everything they’d done while undercover would come back to bite them in the ass at the worst possiblemoment.
“We’ll handle it,” Jamie said. “Wealwaysdo.”
He was staring at Kyle as he spoke, not his parents, and Kyle could only nod at the determined look inJamie’seyes.
They might not have Stanislav’s precognitive power, but they knew the threat, in some form, was coming. They’d face it head-on as a team, as theyalwaysdid.
17
Every Fragile Thing Can’t BeFixed
On Monday,four days after waking up in Medical to his family crowding his biobed and still unable to talk, Sean had yet to leave the base. Partly because he had no home to go back to, mostly because his treatment wasn’tfinished.
Physically, Sean was fine. The regen regime had fixed his fractured jaw and broken ribs, regrown his missing teeth, and healed the bruising and tissue damage he’d endured under Cillian’s hands. He still had a lingering headache from the concussion he’d received from being repeatedly punched in the face on top of breaking through the Faraday cage with his power. The backlash from doing that hadn’t cleared yet, according to his brain scans, but it was gettingthere.
His mental state was another storyentirely.
