As Renard’s fleet had grown to three ships, he’d needed more support. More intelligence. More influence on regimes. More capital. She’d supplied it all.
And now, per her reckoning, she owned him.
Where her soft skills failed within the agency, she relied upon the power of awe. Impressed allies and jealous enemies within the CIA venerated her for three coveted possessions.
Through Renard, she owned a navy. Through hunger, she owned a South American president. Through guilt, she owned a U.S. congressman.
During Renard’s Falklands campaign, she’d called upon Argentina’s future leader. The young politician had seen through her seductive skills but had found her growing influence attractive. His taste for power compelled him to propose, and the pending wedding promised both bride and groom synergistic clout.
She’d almost owned two presidents, but an unexpected candidate had trumped her mentor’s ambitions. Gerald Rickets, a former CIA director and former Secretary of Defense, had instead retreated to a smaller political stage.
Despite graying hair and a receding hairline, Congressman Rickets kept an imposing stature.
As he entered her office, his tall, broad frame filled a conservative gray suit.
Olivia rolled to her feet and walked around her desk. She noticed her hips swinging in slinky seductive strides, and she corrected her steps to a straighter gate.
“It’s not too late to visit?”
She’d waited for him past her normal dinner hour. His hand felt warm as she held it and let him kiss her cheek.
“Of course not, Gerry.”
“I know it’s late. Forgive me for… well, for everything.”
With her eyes, she absolved him yet again for placing her in peril under the knife of a human-trafficking rapist. The gesture came easily because she knew he’d always feel guilty.
He’d always be under her power.
“I already have.”
“If you do it enough times, maybe I’ll forgive myself.”
She returned behind her desk and gestured for him to sit. “What’s so urgent that you needed to see me in person?”
“Great news. I wanted to tell you in person. Your appointment to the next level is secured.”
She’d expected it, but the validation filled her inner girl with warmth and calmed her inner beast. “That’s awesome, Gerry. Thanks.”
“It’s going to take six months, but barring a disaster, it’s yours. Then you’ll be one step away from being the first female Director of the CIA, and you’ll have a lot of people pulling for you.”
“I know you helped, a lot more than I’m aware of.”
He blushed. “Sure, I pulled a few strings for you, but that’s true for anyone who climbs the ranks in a large organization. You’ve done the hard part by yourself.”
“I’ve just done my job, really.”
A massive ebony index finger waggled at her. “Don’t feign modesty with me, young lady. You’re good and you know it. Own it. A little arrogance is okay at your level. Hell, it’ll be expected at the next.”
“I’m not young anymore. I’m almost forty.”
“Try being sixty.”
“I meant I’m old enough to do what needs to be done.”
His accusatory digit retreated to his lap. “Let’s talk about something more positive. I heard your engagement’s now official. When’s the wedding?”
“Next summer.”
“I’m getting an invitation, right?”
The inner girl desired his approval. The beast needed him in attendance to signal her sway. “Don’t be silly. Of course, you’re coming.”
“Hopefully you’ll have a promotion and a wedding to celebrate all in one season.”
“Why not? I’ve worked hard to make it all happen.”
“You sure have. But it’s a lot to handle. Are you scared?”
“Why would I be scared? I can do any job a man can, and I can do it better. I’ve proven it time and time again.”
“I meant about your wedding.”
The inner Olivia feared the Argentine leader would leave her when he tired of her wrinkles or the graying of her auburn hair. She feared his sexual appetite, which drew him to a parade of mistresses she expected to continue during her marriage. She feared any failure in her career that would cause him to cast her aside in shame.
Nothing about her nuptials seemed normal, but the promised power pulled her in.
The beast gave the expected, defensive answer. “I know it’s the right thing for me. That’s all that matters.”
Rickets’ momentary downward glance revealed the sadness of his understanding. She knew he saw her as a daughter and disapproved of her marrying for gain.
“Of course, it is. I can’t wait to see you in your dress.”
“Celebrating my wedding and my promotion.”
“Celebrating your wedding and your promotion. This is as far as I can take you, though. You’re on your own after this.”
“I know how to run with the big boys.”
“True. I’m sure your momentum will carry you to the top.”
She agreed. She had to. The beast craved it. “Can I take you to dinner to thank you for the visit?”
“Thanks, but no. I need to attend a late dinner with some members of the Armed Services Committee. Most of my work gets done after hours, unfortunately.”
As she considered challenging his plans, her phone vibrated. Glancing downward, she saw an alarm notification. Though she received several per week, she sensed an urgency about this one. As her heart accelerated, the beast forced her composed exterior as she stood and escorted her mentor to the door. “I appreciate you coming here in person.”
“Don’t mention it. I’m always happy to see you.”
After giving a requisite hug and closing the door behind him, she marched to her desk and accessed her computer.
Questioning which random world leader was doing something unexpected, what nation’s military machine was grinding into gear, or what terrorist team was on the move, she found the surprise disturbing.
The Goliath was leaving Oman.
She clicked an icon to hail the evening’s support team. A new window revealed a geeky face that seemed too young for a CIA analyst. “Good evening, Miss McDonald. You got my text?”
“Yeah. Show me the UAV footage.”
A high-altitude Unmanned Aerial Vehicle’s night vision image of Renard’s catamaran flagship appeared. She noted the brightness from the heat of its starboard propulsion equipment and its distance from the Omani coast.
Per her last conversation with the Frenchman, his fleet was parked in Muscat for the night. “How old’s this?”
“Three minutes.”
She checked the computer’s system time. UAV usage constraints limited her overhead snapshots of Renard’s fleet to every fifteen minutes. “That’s off schedule.”
“I take sneak peeks for you when I can.”
His smirk signaled his enjoyment of the gift the beast sent him each month.
“Thanks. I’ll send you an extra bottle this month.”
“Can you make it a good one aged twenty-five years?”
“I will if you tell me what’s going on with the submarines.”
“Already done. I caught an image after I saw the Goliath out of place. I’m seeing heat from their engineering spaces.”
Knowing Renard saved fuel costs and transportation time by carrying the submarines on his catamaran cargo ship, she hoped the Goliath departed with the intent to submerge and take the other two vessels onto its centerline freight bed.
But she questioned why the Frenchman would leave Muscat early. She knew the replacement bow section he sought had been delayed. “Can you get me a shot of the Taiwanese ship that’s carrying the Goliath’s new bow?”