I know, two chapters in 2 days! Enjoy it while it lasts, lol. I was able to get a lot of writing done this weekend by procrastinating my other responsibilities :)

"Mr. President," said Russell, "we've got an issue that we're ready to read you in on."

Conrad looked at the trio that had just entered his office, eyes darting from Russell to Munsey and landing on Elizabeth. "What is it?" he asked.

"It has to do with the death of Vincent Marsh, sir. We have proof that it wasn't an accident."

The President leaned back in his chair. "Tell me everything."

"Unfortunately, the op didn't go well," Munsey was explaining. "Our men were fired on by two snipers from the top of a building. We lost an operative, and Samila Mahdavi was killed in the crossfire."

"They were ready for us, Mr. President," said Elizabeth. "Someone knew we were coming."

"We believe there is a mole in our own security establishment," said Munsey. "That's why it's risen to your level."

Conrad frowned. "Why am I just learning about this?"

"We wanted to preserve plausible deniability for you," said Russell.

"You shouldn't have waited so long."

"It was a judgment call, Mr. President."

"A bad one, as it turns out."

Russell sighed, relenting, and the President continued. "I've got news for you all. I had questions about the Dubai crash at the time. I assigned a pair to investigate. They reported to me that it was an accident, which implies that they were hiding the truth. One of those agents is dead now," he said, looking Elizabeth in the eye. "George Peters."

Elizabeth looked at him in shock. "Who's the other agent?"

"Juliet Humphrey."

Elizabeth sank onto the sofa. "No."

"It's her," said Russell.

"No," she said again, putting a hand over her mouth.

"She's the mole."

"It makes sense," Munsey admitted. "You and Isabelle are close to her, right?"

"Extremely. We had dinner right before...right before the op."

"She must have planted the bug then," said Russell.

And all while fussing about choosing her country first, Elizabeth thought.

"I want a raid on her house," said the President. "Tonight."

"Of course," said Munsey. "I'll put it in motion immediately."

Elizabeth sat on her couch with the note Juliet had left for her, rereading it for the thousandth time. When Elizabeth had followed the FBI team into her house, it had been entirely cleared out, save for the teddy bear she'd sat on days before, and a note, addressed to Bess.

"Whatever happens, know this: I did it for my country. This is a righteous cause."

This is a righteous cause. I did it for my country. A righteous cause. I did it for my-

Elizabeth was ripped out of her thoughts by her phone chiming on the coffee table. It was security, telling her Isabelle was there and asking if they should send her in. She sent back a quick yes and headed for the door.

"Thanks, Frank," she said as a member of her detail let Isabelle in. "Hey." Isabelle looked at her, not responding. "Should I even ask how you've been?" They hadn't seen each other since Elizabeth had accused her of being the mole, and she wasn't sure what to expect.

"Oh, I've been great," Isabelle said, clearly sarcastic. "I've been staying at a lovely little place called the Potomac Lodge, you know, given that my own bed was sliced open with a razor blade."

"I'm really sorry."

"I would ask how you could have accused me of being the mole," she said, the words themselves dripping with accusation but then she softed. "But how could either of us have suspected Juliet?"

"Right? I know, I-I can't-"

"You said on the phone that she left a note?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Yeah, it's in here," she said, leading her into the living room. "Not that it's a lot of help." She picked it up from where she'd left it on the coffee table and held it out.

Isabelle took it, letting out a deep sigh when she read what it said. "I guess we can rule out coercion," she said, sitting down on the couch next to Elizabeth.

"Or financial motivation. It's like it's some kind of misguided patriotism."

Isabelle set the note down, looking through the other files in the folder on the table. "Do we think she was acting alone?"

"I don't know. It seems like a prelude to something bigger. And she said this is a righteous cause."

isabelle nodded. "As opposed to was."

"Like maybe it's not over."

Isabelle flicked through the folder, pulling out a file on Samila. "How's it going with Turkey?" she asked.

"It's a nightmare. They've got footage of the raid, of the shooting match between our guys and the ones who ambushed us. And they're refusing to give Brett Boris's body back. It doesn't help that the press are starting to ask questions about his death. My next step is to convince the President to let me fly down to Turkey and straighten this out."

Isabelle looked thoughtful. "I might do the same. I've got a contact at the Turkish National Police who I might happen to run into."

Elizabeth nodded. "Well, maybe I'll see you down there."

Not 24 hours later, Elizabeth was on the ground in Turkey. After getting approval from the President, she'd asked Blake to quietly clear her schedule and gotten Alyssa to stay with the kids. Now she was in a car on her way from the American embassy in Ankara to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, with one stop on the way. The car slowed to a stop in a crowded alley way and it took her a little while before she saw a familiar figure emerge. She opened the door and Isabelle scooted in, removing the headscarf she was wearing over her face.

"Welcome to Turkey."

"Just like old times, huh?"

"Yeah, beats lying around at home in my sliced-open bed," Isabelle said with a wry smile, digging in her bag.

"Gotta admire how thorough they are though," said Elizabeth, an attempt at humor. It fell flat. "Too soon?"

"Yeah."

"What do you got for me?"

Isabelle found what she was looking for, pulling out a folder and opening it to reveal pictures of Samila on the ground after she was killed. "This backpack," she said, pointing to the striped bag hanging off the woman's shoulders. "My contact at the Turkish National Police says they recovered a laptop in it."

"Do they know what's on it?"

"No. It's encrypted."

"Well, with Samila out of the picture, that may be our only hope for a lead in the Marsh investigation."

When Elizabeth walked back into the State Department on Thursday morning, it was with an air of triumph. After Minister Javani had given her the contents of the laptop, she'd given them to Isabelle to de-encrypt. She didn't know who else in the Intelligence Community she could trust, but she knew Isabelle would get the job done, and discreetly. On top of that victory, she had successfully smoothed things over with the Turks, and Brett's body was coming home.

She strode into the conference room and was met with "welcome back"s from her staff, who were already gathered at her request. "Okay, you guys, here is our official story," she said. All eyes were on her as she continued. "My undisclosed trip was to Turkey. I was there to clear up a misunderstanding with the Turkish government. They are dropping the CIA story, and Brett Boris' body is coming home."

"What did we give them?" asked Matt.

"Nothing," said the Secretary.

"Got it," he said, but Daisy didn't seem satisfied. "Ma'am, with all due respect, I don't think I can spin that story."

"Oh, of course you can," said Elizabeth, unconcerned.

"Let me rephrase. I don't know if I'm willing to."

Elizabeth looked hard at her. "Then I think we have a problem."

Daisy held her gaze for a moment. "Yeah." She picked up her tablet from where it lay on the table and quietly walked out of the conference room, leaving a well of silence in her wake.

Finally, Nadine spoke up. "I'll talk to her," she assured Elizabeth. "It's been a difficult week for her. The press have been hitting pretty hard about Brett Boris."

Elizabeth nodded. "Yeah. That'll be all."

"Thank you, Madam Secretary," said Nadine, rising to leave. The rest followed suit, save Henry, who hung back.

"She's right, you know," he said softly.

Elizabeth looked up at him. "I'm sorry?"

"Daisy. We all know there's more to the Brett Boris story."

"Of course there is."

"I think the American people would appreciate you telling the truth." So would I, he didn't say.

"I can't," she said, her voice shrinking to a whisper.

Henry nodded. "Okay. I trust you." With that, he left. Elizabeth let out a sigh of relief. She wondered how long she would have to keep up the secrecy in the office. Bit by bit, she was unraveling the conspiracy behind Marsh's death, but it was starting to feel like it would never end.