“The world has turned against us,” Max pronounced, as if speaking in committee and not just to her. “Greater China, Japan, Vietnam, Brazil, Venezuela, Germany, England, France… The list goes on and on of those arrayed against us.”
Anna took another sip of wine, and she realized she needed to set down the glass before she drank too much, too fast. She was as light as a bird, and alcohol went straight to her brain. But the wine felt so good. The warmth in her throat and then in her belly…it soothed her.
“The Pan-Asian Alliance represents 44 percent of the world’s population,” Max was saying. “The German Dominion has another 6 percent and the South American Federation with Mexico adds yet another 6 percent. That means America and Canada faces 56 percent of the world. We, incidentally, have 5 percent of the Earth’s people. Tell me, Anna, do you believe we can kill ten of them for every one of ours we lose?”
She felt her eyelids blinking, more like fluttering the way a hummingbird’s wings moved in a blur. It almost felt as if her eyelashes caught occasionally. The wine helped oil her tongue, and she said, “We’re not facing all 56 percent,” she said. “We’re facing the various militaries. Two large oceans separate us from most of them. That means we’re—”
“Your point is well taken,” Max said, interrupting her. “If we could destroy their navies, the war would quickly dwindle into nothing.”
“I suppose that’s true. But why tell me this here? I’m trying to relax, to take a break from it all.”
Max’s lips stretched a little more, as if to indicate greater humor. It merely made him seem more predatory.
“Shouldn’t you be telling David this?” Anna asked.
“Ah,” Max said, as he put his hands on the table. Although he had a carefully tailored reputation for roughing it, the director had manicured fingers and two large rings. The biggest had a huge opal. The ring must have cost a small fortune. “I see you like to place your cards face up,” Max said.
“I don’t believe that I have any idea what you’re talking about,” Anna said, and she didn’t.
The smile vanished, and the director’s eyes became more intent. They seemed like drills then that bored into her. It made Anna feel as if he stripped away her clothes and exposed her flesh. By an act of will, she kept herself from shuddering. What would he do if she hurled the last of her wine into his face? She quickly looked down. What was she thinking? This was the Director of Homeland Security, not a stalking rapist. She needed to rein in an overactive imagination. Maybe work had gotten to her more than she realized.
“Let us speak frankly to each other,” Max said.
She couldn’t speak, but she managed to nod. Maybe her instincts were correct. The way he said that, it sounded ominous. Yet why would the director pick Frobisher’s for a confrontation? It didn’t make sense.
“David is wilting under the pressure,” Max told her.
As one of the stalwarts of the administration, Max shouldn’t say such a thing. It was disloyal. The words shocked her.
While still keeping her gaze down, Anna opened her mouth to retort.
“Now I’m the first to admit that the President made a masterful stroke this winter,” Max said, his voice rising as if to forestall her from interrupting. “I applauded the hard choices he made to give us our glorious victory over the Chinese. The President not only made tough decision but he stuck to them in the darkest hours. I also believe that you helped steady him this winter. He needed you, Anna. And you, too, have worked diligently for the United States of America. You have risen to the challenge when your country needed you. I admire that, and I will never forget your services.”
“What are you talking about?” Anna said, sharply.
The director raised an eyebrow.
Having finally become angry, she lifted her gaze and stared into his eyes. “You’re speaking as if David…why, as if he’s out of the picture somehow.”
The director hesitated before saying, “If you believe I’ve implied that, you’ve misunderstood me.”
That pause wasn’t a mistake. Is he threatening me? Is he threatening David? Why is he saying any of this?
“May I ask you a question?” Max asked.
“I’m not sure I care for any of this,” she said.
“No, I’m sure you don’t. But this is much more than our feelings, Ms. Chen. This concerns our country. I love my country.”
“So do I,” she said.
“I know. It’s the reason I’m speaking to you as I am.”
“And how is that?” she asked.
He smiled once more. This smile seemed more genuine but also more rapacious. “I’ve struck a nerve, have I? Your…shall we call it reserve?”
She kept her gaze on him, and she realized that she was more than angry. She was furious.
“Yes,” Max said, “let us call it your natural reserve. It has vanished because you think I’ve spoken ill about the President.”
“You’re implying he is no longer capable of doing his job,” Anna said.
“Ah,” Max said. “That is an interesting choice of words. I would like to point out that you spoke them. I did not.”
“What is this about, Director?”
“I’ve made you worried, have I? That is interesting. Until this moment, you have likely felt that you’re the only one who realized that David Sims has lost his nerve.”
“I’m not going to sit here and listen to you—”
As she spoke, Max reached across the table and took her right hand. The touch sparked against her, making her stiffen. His grip was surprisingly strong. He leaned closer so his face seemed to fill her world. The touch peeled away the last layer, or maybe scales fell from her eyes. His look had become flinty and his soul unfolded like a poisonous flower. Max Harold was hard and ruthless like a Himmler, like a Robespierre. Understanding that about him…it suddenly frightened Anna.
“You must listen to me carefully,” Max said. “And you must decide who you love more: David or the United States.”
“Ma’am,” Demetrius said. “Are you well?”
Anna tried to tug her hand free, but the director held it too tightly against the tabletop.
Surely, Demetrius saw that. He put a big hand on the director’s left shoulder. “Sir, I’ll have to ask you to release Ms. Chen.”
Before Max could respond, the three Militia bodyguards surrounded Demetrius. To Anna’s horrified astonishment, one of the bodyguards poked a silver barrel against Demetrius’s side. The other two laid hands on the agent’s arm.
“Do you want a fight, Director?” Demetrius asked.
“Get your filthy hand off me,” Max told him. “No one touches me.”
“First you’ll have to release Ms. Chen,” Demetrius said.
Anna sat like a statue, drinking in the details but unable to move, unable to speak. She could see the wheels turning in the director’s eyes.
Abruptly, Max let go of Anna’s hand. She slid it back to her lap. It felt as if the skin was on fire.
Demetrius released the director.
“What are your wishes, sir?” asked the bodyguard with the gun jabbed against Demetrius’s side.
Max brushed his shoulder where Demetrius had put his hand. “Sit down,” he told his men. “But watch him. If he touches me again…” Max looked up at Demetrius. “You men will know what to do.”
“Yes, sir,” the bodyguard said, the one with the gun. He withdrew the weapon and holstered it inside his jacket. Afterward, the three bodyguards returned to their table.