A BIT MORE INTRIQUE. ENJOY.
ALSO - GOOD CATCH ABOUT MIKE, GUEST REVIEWER. THOUGHT MAYBE NO ONE WOULD GET THE REFERENCE :)
Elizabeth tossed her glasses across the table in the Situation Room. And the tone of her voice held the indignation she felt.
"You mean to tell me that we just lost uranium?"
"Ma'am." Gordon Becker said, "We didn't lose it. Iranian forces were overcome by rebel forces in one of their nuclear storage facilities."
Then it was the CIA Director's turn to jump in, "Has any intelligence been recovered as to the attacker's identities?"
"We believe it to be a small faction originating from Syria." Gordon said. A map pulled up on the screen. And the highlighted area to the west showed up. "This group does support Hamas and Hezbollah."
Elizabeth sat back in her chair, her mind going more miles than she could count. "And what's their endgame?"
Isabelle spoke up, "While we don't have any intel from that group, we are looking into it. The other components for a dirty bomb have not been noticed or gone missing with anyone connected to that group."
"How about elsewhere?" Elizabeth asked.
Becker said, "Right now we are pulling in intelligence from around the world to check our bases."
Trying to keep the world from blowing itself up had become her first priority of the morning, and it was only six. "I want hourly updates. Correlating information with the different departments each hour." She stood up, and everyone else did in the room as well. She looked at the members of the National Security Counsel. "We need to find anyone who has the capability of turning this into something harmful." And in a grave tone that only minutely described her true feelings, she said, "This isn't a joke. We need to find this uranium. And fast."
And she exited the room, she continued to walk with purpose, hoping to burn off the intensity of the situation. Keeping America safe was her first priority, which, to some, may have narrowed the field a bit. But, from her time at UVA and the State Department, she knew that it wasn't just about making sure American soil was not hit. An army base in Damascus hit could trigger retaliatory strikes by the armed nuclear powers of the world. A bomb sent into Israel would mean she'd be faced with the question of sending troops to war. A NATO ally being bombed would mean commitment to war. Nothing was easy – nothing was one thing. Everything affected everything else. It was like hitting the first of a million dominos – destruction would come. And, eventually, it would take everything down in it's path.
She was glad when Blake met her halfway on the way back to the Oval.
"Ma'am, I have your meeting with Senator Jordan for you at eight, followed by your greeting the American winners from the Olympic games at 8:25. We then go…"
She stopped him. "Blake, we need to call in the VP. I'm going to need him to take the meetings for the morning."
Like the good secretary he was, Blake immediately and without question began taking notes.
"Then I need you to set up a call with our ambassador to Syria as soon as possible." She'd let Secretary Thompson over at State meet with the foreign liaisons from Syria and Iran. But she wanted to inform the ambassador of their game plan as well as get his take on the situation.
"Yes, Ma'am." Blake said, walking faster to match Elizabeth's pace.
She'd arrived at the Oval, and continued giving orders. "I need any and all intelligence brought in from the members of the NSC immediately as it comes in."
"Of course." Blake said.
And when she sat down, amazed that she was already so exhausted after only an hour of working, she took a breath.
"Oh, Ma'am, I do have that report you asked for." Blake said, handing her a file. In his own way, he said, "I mean, during the whole time at State, I think I spoke with Dennis Colt maybe twice."
She took the file, and opened it.
Blake explained, "He was glad to compile the last few memos the Department of…" Blake had to look down and check his notes, "… Directives Management had compiled."
"Thank you, Blake." She said, browsing through the paperwork he'd given her. As he walked out, she called out, "If you can snag a bear claw from somewhere…"
"On it, Ma'am."
Then Elizabeth began focusing through the papers. Looking at the dates. Of course, she noticed how they were organized in order of their writing. Two weeks ago. Ten days ago. Four days ago… and that was it.
She set the file down on her desk, leaning back in her chair. No new memos in four days. But just last night, Emma had said she was needed to write a memo for work. She hated to find out her daughter had lied to her. Not only to her, but to Charlotte as well. As much as Elizabeth felt conflicted about Emma's girlfriend, she still felt bad that Emma had lied to all of them.
What was Emma up to? Exhaustion pulled at Elizabeth's being. It wasn't like Emma had a history of lying. In fact, she was normally so honest. To a fault. Like just accepting whatever Elizabeth and Henry thought about her bringing Charlotte home to surprise them. She didn't care what people thought. So for her to lie…
Of course, she wondered what her daughter was trying to pull. The last time she'd openly lied to them, they'd found her on top of the hill at the farm in a gun fight. But that felt like the past. But still…
Without thought for the time, Elizabeth picked up her phone and called Emma's phone.
It rang.
Her fingers drummed on the arm of her chair. Was she in trouble?
It rang again.
She twisted back and forth in her chair.
Then she heard the voicemail click in. "You've reached me. Leave a message."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes at her children's messages. "Text me" was Allison's. "Hang up. I don't do calls." For Jason's. And now this.
When it beeped, Elizabeth panic talked, "Em, it's Mom. Can you call me when you get this? Love you, bye."
She hung up. And stared at her phone for a minute.
Potential dirty bombs. Unaccounted for uranium. And Emma's lies.
Hitting her phone to reach Blake, she said, "Blake, can you have Henry call me when he gets into the office this morning?"
"Of course, Ma'am."
"Thank you."
"And, Ma'am, the VP is here for you."
"Send him in."
And she took a deep breath, setting aside the nagging feeling in her stomach as she continued to run the country.
Emma set her backpack down beside the small cot in the room she'd been assigned. Then she fell into the bed, utterly exhausted. She knew she couldn't sleep. Not that she'd be able to. She looked around the small room with two other cots. Of course, it was only 7pm Baghdad time. So whoever would be sharing the room with her weren't even close to sleep, Emma assumed.
Which gave her time to take a breath. She still couldn't believe she was here, in Baghdad. About to interrogate someone. Talk to someone.
What the Station Chief had said rattled around in her mind. She tried to shake it off. He was just someone who didn't understand how important the techniques were that she believed would help. But he seemed so sure of himself. Sure she'd fail. And now that he knew who she was, Emma knew it wouldn't last long for her keeping it quiet.
She'd been through worse things. That was her mantra. She'd told Charlotte, "Funny, once you go through something like I went through, shitty things can come, and they all pale in comparison. Makes it easier to get out of bed and do the hard things."
Charlotte.
She'd told Charlotte she'd be gone for a few days. She'd said it in a voicemail. But. Still.
Emma reached into her bag and pulled out her phone. She saw four missed calls from the White House, one from Charlotte, two texts from her mother, three from her father, and one from her girlfriend.
She opened Charlottes, that simply said, Wherever you are, I love you. Be safe.
Emma smiled, but the dread was creeping up as she pulled up the texts from her mother.
1413: Emma, can you call me?
1620: Where are you?
1845: This is serious. You can't just disappear. Just call me. I'm worried.
Then her dad.
1745: What's going on? I know you like your space, but I thought we were over this. I know it's been tough this week, but your mom is about ready to send out the alarms to the DS agents. I know you hate that. Just let us know you're ok.
Emma calculated to time difference. Timestamps on her phone were showing six hours later than when the texts were physically sent. The first was sent at 6 am in Washington. Why was her mother so worried? And why didn't they just reach out to Charlotte?
She quickly typed out a text to her dad. Tell Mom to call off the search. I'm fine. Just working. Love you.
Emma flipped to her mom's texts. And she hesitated. What would she tell her? What did she want to tell her? What could she?
And why did her mother think Emma needed to check in with her all the time? Especially when she'd just seen her yesterday.
So she just sent off, I'm fine. Stop freaking out. I'll talk to you later.
Within seconds, she could see her mother typing back. Then, Where are you?
Almost, without thinking, Emma replied, I'm an adult. I don't have to tell you everything.
Waiting. And then. I know you weren't working last night.
Shit. Emma thought.
A quick knock then, "You ready?"
Emma looked up to find Mike standing in the doorway.
"I am." Emma said, quickly switching her phone off completely. No tracing it now. And she threw the phone a bit harder than necessary into her bag.
And she was off. Time to see if she actually had what it took.
