The other man in the room watched as filaments of smoke escaped through the permanent tracheotomy in Mr. Nero's throat. The fingers that reached up to cover the hole were gnarled with age and tinged with nicotine. The face was hidden in the shadows, the three lights tilted toward the visitor. The tracheotomy was something that had gone into place when Nero had been out of action for several critical months prior to the 9-11 disasters.
When the cigarette was done, Mr. Nero capped the hole in his throat and reached for the hand-held voice box that substituted for his larynx. Nero's voice through the wand was harsh and crackly.
"As we suspected, Mister Anthony Gant is no longer with us. There is no sign of the object you are concerned with and we do have to assume that someone was with Gant at his death due to the fact that he was given a proper burial."
The other man finally spoke. "Then we must act."
Nero placed the fingers of his free hand along the side of his face. "Senator, I understand you are concerned, but premature action might upset the balance we have so delicately maintained all these years and bring about that which you most fear. Gant did nothing to upset things all these years; I do believe the chances are his legacy will do nothing either."
The most powerful man on Capitol Hill shifted in his seat, trying to restrain his anger and concern. "I wouldn't have to be afraid of the past if we had terminated everyone who was involved in the incident and collected all their various objects of blackmail."
"Does everyone include you?" Nero asked.
"Don't get smart with me, Nero. I'm going to be nominated by the party. This couldn’t have come at a worse time. I've got all sorts of Congressional Staffers from the other party sniffing around, looking for dirt."
"Nothing has happened," Nero noted, "other than Mister Gant expiring, for which you should be grateful. If you wait long enough, this will most likely go away as the others die natural deaths also and their secrets die with them."
“Including you?” Collins snapped.
“Including me,” Nero acknowledged. “Everyone has their time. I’ve been living on borrowed time for decades. The difference between me and you is that I am aware of it.”
“What does that mean?” Collins demanded.
“You know so little,” Nero said.
Collins didn’t take the bait. "We don't know where Gant's videotape or the plans and contracts are. We don't know how the others are going to react to his death. I can't afford to sit around and have this hanging over my head. And remember, there are others besides me who were involved in this. A lot of powerful people who never agreed with the way you handled this."
"The way I've handled it has been successful so far," Nero said. “Every action has a reaction, even if it takes decades for that reaction to occur. The CIA has a term — blowback. I assume since you’re on the Select Intelligence Committee, you’ve heard of it.”
“When weapons we’ve sold end up getting used against us,” Collins said.
Nero nodded. “I like to think in larger terms than simply weapons. The world is changing. As is apparent now that our enemies take different forms. Therefore we must take different forms.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Collins demanded, confused by the change in directions.
Nero ignored the questions. "I recommend we do nothing until something happens to force our hand.”
Collins stood. "I'm not going with your recommendation. I want the others terminated and I want everything collected like it should have been years ago."
"Are you ordering me to do this?" Nero asked.
"Yes."
"You don't quite have that power."
"I speak for those who do and you know who they are," Collins hissed.
“You also understand my mandate,” Nero said. “I am to do as ordered as long as it is in the best interests of the country.”
“We — ” Collins thumped his chest — “the politicians are elected to determine exactly that.”
“In most cases that is true,” Nero said, “which is why the Cellar takes action only infrequently. However, political squabbling between the parties might not be in the best interests of the country.”
“You went along with the initial mission,” Collins noted.
“The mission was recovery of damaging material,” Nero said.
“The recovery turned out to be a disaster,” Collins said.
“Everyone knows what happened in Mogadishu,” Nero said. “They even made a movie about it.”
“But people don’t know the real reason it happened.”
“The fake reason was real enough,” Nero said. “Or else I would not have allowed the mission. The failure had nothing to do with the fake or real mission. That was the vagaries of battle.”
“Damn you Nero.” Collins fought to get under control. “At the time the material recovered wasn’t that big of a deal,” Collins said. “Recent events have changed that. Regardless, you’re involved.”
Nero’s wand made a scratching noise that might have been laughter. “I am always involved.”
“Just do what I told you to,” Collins snapped.
Nero regarded the other man, dressed in his finely cut suit for several moments.
“If you don’t act, I’ll get the Agency involved,” the Senator threatened.
A gargling sound came out of the wand. It took the Senator a few moments before he realized it was indeed laughter. Nero inclined his head. "As you wish."
Collins stalked out of the office. It was only when he was in the elevator heading toward the surface that he realized Nero had never really answered him.
CHAPTER 6
It was a simple shot. Just a few feet to the hole, but Hannah watched as her putt veered to the left and threatened to leave the green. She turned and gave her partners a feeble grin. "I guess I'm not having a good day."
"No kidding," Sara muttered as she marked the scorecard, then selected her club and moved forward.
Rita and Amelia were with their own cart, about thirty feet away. It was a windy day and Hannah could catch snatches of their conversation.
"Michael said there's a lot of trouble at John's firm," Rita was saying. "He said everyone's in a tizzy. I also heard that there's another woman involved."
"Another woman?" Amelia asked, her voice rising, then just as quickly going down. "Who?"
"I don't know. Some secretary at one of those firms they contract with."
Amelia frowned. Hannah was watching her out of the corner of her eye. For all Hannah knew, there was another woman, but she was pretty sure that was just a juicy tidbit someone had added for interest's sake. Hannah had watched the gossip hotline for years, never participating. She couldn't claim ethical responsibility, rather it was a case of not giving a damn. She had never anticipated having the spotlight thrown on her.
"I talked to Celia Brumley," Amelia added her own inside scoop. "She didn't say anything about another woman, but she did say John took everything. There's some question of criminal acts."
"My God!" Sara exclaimed. She looked over at Hannah, who raised her eyes and met the gaze. Sara's face twisted in what must have been an attempt at a smile but looked more like a grimace.
Hannah wasn't surprised. She knew the story would make the rounds quickly. She wished she could gripe to John that their lawyer had a big mouth. She walked toward her cart, causing the women to quickly cease their conversation. Hannah wondered how much longer she could pretend. Yesterday afternoon she had called Doctor Jenkins. She'd been going crazy and she knew she needed help. She'd made an appointment and asked him if there was anything she could do in the meantime. "Keep to your routine," had been his sage advice, so she had kept this engagement even though it was the last thing she wanted to do.