Chapter Eighteen

The line went quiet for so long after she spoke to the White House operator to identify herself that Alison McCord was almost certain that she was going to be either cut off or fobbed off, and she wasn't sure which of those would anger her more. She was just preparing herself to be really, properly furious when the line clicked back on.

"Alison?"

She knew that voice. Crap. She'd actually been put through to the President of the United States. She'd take a moment to marvel at that if not for the fact she had more pressing matters to consider. She figured she wouldn't have long so decided to dive right in. "Mr President, what's going on? Where are my mom and dad? What's happened to them?"

"Alison, don't panic," Conrad said, in a pacifying tone, and oh wow, that was the wrong thing to say, not to mention the wrong way to say it.

"Tell me why I shouldn't." Her tone was clipped steel. She stopped her frantic pacing of the kitchen and waited expectantly for the answer.

Conrad hummed a little like he might be smiling at her. "You're your mother's daughter, you know that?"

"Yes," she snapped. It was a comparison that pleased her, especially when the President obviously thought so highly of her mom, but she didn't have patience for what she suspected was Conrad trying to distract her. "Tell me what you know."

Maybe ordering the President around wasn't exactly the done thing, but she figured she had cause and no doubt she was only following in her mother's footsteps. In the corner of the kitchen, Blake's eyebrows were raised almost off his forehead, and Stevie and Jason had propped themselves in the doorway to watch their sister do something impressive – and potentially stupid.

"I'm sure you understand there isn't much I can tell you, Alison. But I can tell you that I've spoken to both of your parents within the past couple of hours and they were both OK."

Were. They were both OK. "And now? Where are they now?"

"I believe that they're still in the embassy in Rusapol, we're just – " Conrad stopped abruptly and there was the sound of someone else shouting – ranting – in the background. "What is it?" The question was directed at someone on the other end of the phone line.

Alison knew the sound of that ranting voice, even from her distance. Her mom had had her phone on speaker enough times and Alison had met Russell Jackson enough to know what he sounded like when he was cross. Specifically, when he was cross at her mom, which is exactly what he currently sounded like. "What's going on?" she asked Conrad, curiosity and worry warring within her. Had Russell just been speaking to her mom?

The distant ranting on the other end of the line was getting louder. "Alison, I'm afraid I have to go. I assure you we're doing absolutely everything possible to get your parents home – both of them. I promise you I'll call you personally as soon as there is any news. All right?"

It wasn't, not really, and she wanted to protest but there was obviously something going on that was demanding Conrad's attention, and Alison knew that she had to let the man do his job. She sank back against the kitchen counter and told herself that Russell Jackson shouting was good. It meant that they were working, that there were still things they could try. He wouldn't be shouting if he'd just found out her parents were dead. Would he? She blinked against fresh tears. She realised the President was still waiting for her answer. She sighed. "All right."


Elizabeth put down the phone and then put her head into her hands, letting her hair fall in front of her face in an effort to try and hide for a moment. Maybe it should have been weirdly comforting to have Russell Jackson yelling at her down a crackling phone line from a different continent, a sign perhaps that he hadn't written her off for dead, but the fact he had yelled at her even after she had told him about the awful fight that had happened with Andreou Flack told her that he was pretty damn mad at her.

And he had some cause to be, but how the hell was she supposed to know that Conrad was doing a dirty deal with Gleb Kodalov at the same time as she was pressing the off switch on half the lights in Rusapol? It wasn't as though she'd had the option of doing nothing.

"Babe?"

She looked up to find Henry standing in the doorway of the communications suite; she had left him with Flack to finish getting out of him the information on their exit route while she went to take Russell's call, but now he was looking at her with an expression of concern as she sat slumped over the phone. "Hey," she said, aware that it sounded a little weak.

"What happened?" Henry pushed off the doorframe and crossed the room to lean against the desk where Elizabeth sat, reaching out to brush his hand over her hair and softly stroke his thumb over her forehead.

She caught his hand in hers as he went to pull back, feeling the need for a little contact and reassurance. "Conrad called Kodalov."

Henry stilled as he took in the expression on her face and the tone of her voice. "That doesn't sound good."

"He did a deal with him to call fresh elections and to reinstate my diplomatic status so it'll be a little easier getting out of the country."

Henry frowned, obviously a little confused. "OK, that sounds like a good thing…"

"And now he's complicit in covering up Zembrovko's murder and Kodalov gets to stay as President."

"Oh."

"And when all the lights suddenly go out, it's not going to take him long to figure out who pulled the plug and he's not going to be happy after he's just done a deal with Conrad that said nothing about losing electricity across half the capital." It wouldn't be pretty, of that much she was sure. She was also pretty sure she'd be the one to have to deal with the resultant mess, and she was just so tired and ready to drop, and so not ready to deal with fresh hell from Gleb Kodalov. President Gleb Kodalov.

She wished Conrad had spoken to her before calling Kodalov. Sure, she knew he could call his own play, and it wasn't exactly like she was available for a consultation while she was getting knocked around by and then interrogating a traitor, but it would've been nice if he'd made an effort to run it past her first. And now they were all covering up a murder?

She was more pissed off about that than she was Russell yelling at her for doing the best she could with the resources she had, but the consequences were going to take a little time to sink in. The yelling had provoked a more immediate reaction. "Russell was pretty mad."

Henry snorted. "Screw Russell."

Elizabeth sighed. "Henry…"

He pushed away from the desk to pace in front of her. "No, Elizabeth. I mean it. Screw Russell. He doesn't get to be mad at you for that, he can't just –"

"I need to talk to Kodalov." She said it quietly, almost under her breath, hadn't really been planning to say it out loud at all, but it just slipped out while she was thinking through her next play, trying to work out how to avert a disaster when the power plant shut down and created more chaos when Kodalov had just done a deal with the US to try and solve the previous one. Apparently she was too tired to filter her thoughts anymore.

Henry stopped dead. "No, you don't."

Elizabeth turned to the computer in front of her and clicked through, looking for the directory that would tell her how to connect with the presidential palace where she suspected Kodalov still to be. "Not in person, just a phone call. I have to –"

She was stopped by Henry's hand wrapping gently around her wrist and tugging her around to face him. He crouched down in front of her chair and cupped her face in his hands, his expression soft but adamant. "No," he said again. "We have to go."

"Henry, if the lights go out now, Kodalov will never let us leave. It'll be like going back on Conrad's word."

He looked at her in a way that suggested he wasn't going to budge on the subject.

She tried a different tack in case it was Kodalov specifically that Henry objected to her speaking to. "Mark Strong, then. I need to call Mark Strong at the power plant, try and get him to reverse the shutdown before it's too late to stop."

It partly worked. Kind of.

"Only if you can do it on the move." Henry obviously wasn't going to stand for any argument on the subject.

From the corner of the room, Corporal Isaac Greenwood spoke up. "I'll keep trying him on the cell, Ma'am," he promised.

The sound of the younger man made Elizabeth jump; she had forgotten he was in the room somewhere around Russell's bit on you've done what now and what were you thinking, you must have got a concussion when you hit your head.

"Thank you," Henry told him, standing up and holding his hand out to Elizabeth.

She took it, feeling her husband's fingers wrap securely around the back of her hand. "You're playing the husband card, aren't you?"

"Babe, I should get a medal for not playing it until now."

He had a point. She stood and leaned her head against him for a moment. She pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "I know. I'll get you a medal when we get home. A really good one."

Henry kissed her forehead. "Let's just get home, OK? Preferably without any more fist fights or gunshots. That will do me just fine. Now, you ready to go?"

She cast one last look at the computer and the phone, a big part of her itching to stay and work, to call Gleb Kodalov and do something to make it right, to lay the groundwork to minimise the damage that would occur when the lights went out and antagonised the agreement he had come to with Conrad. Then she looked back at Henry, at the worry and tension that had taken up semi-permanent residence within him. She knew what they had to do. "Yeah," she agreed. "Let's go."


"Any luck?" Elizabeth looked at Corporal Greenwood as he focused on the small phone in his hands, still trying to get through to Mark Strong at the power plant as their group assembled in the security suite, ready to leave the chancery building behind.

The young corporal shrugged. "Not yet, Ma'am. I'll keep trying, though."

"We're going into an underground tunnel, Isaac. I don't think the phone would work in there even if a coup hadn't overwhelmed the entire network." She gave him a small smile, hoping the kid knew she appreciated his efforts and his unfailing upbeat attitude; it was just that the sound of blood rushing in her head and the growing sense that she'd be much better off lying down instead of standing was getting in the way of things such as normal human civility and professional appreciation.

He smiled back. "That's probably true. Maybe we should try a carrier pigeon."

Elizabeth laughed despite the way it made her vision swim a little. "Sometimes the old school is still the best school."

Matt stuck his head around the doorway. "We're ready to leave, Ma'am."

Elizabeth paused for a moment, taking just a few seconds to gather herself. It was quieter in the security rooms, further away from the sounds of the protest in the street outside and better insulated against the whir of the Mi-24 helicopter, but she could still hear them without any trouble. It seemed that Russell's insistence that Conrad had agreed with Kodalov she'd have an easier passage out of the embassy left a little bit to be desired. If the deal was so damn good, she didn't think she'd be leaving the building by way of a secret tunnel, the existence of which they'd discovered no thanks to Conrad and Russell.

"Ma'am?" Matt prompted.

"Lead the way, Matt." She slid her hand into Henry's as he stood at her side, and leant into him a little as they followed her DS agents and a couple of the local security guys – Andreou Flack handcuffed and chaperoned brusquely between them - and passed out of the security rooms and down a narrow corridor that led to what was currently a storage room.

And, apparently, the secret entrance to Narnia.

A few filing cabinets had been shoved haphazardly out of the way to reveal a door, which now stood open, leading to a set of stone steps and, after that – who the hell knew.

"Is this for real?" If the question sounded glib, it really couldn't be helped. Elizabeth was glad she had Henry to help hold her up. She was pretty sure she was tripping hard at that moment.

Matt nodded. "I've checked it out, Ma'am. It's for real."

She supposed she'd just have to take his word for it. "OK, then. After you."

Her DS agent looked like he had a comment to make at that, but he wisely chose to hold it in, merely raising one eyebrow before nodding and ducking down to so that he could pass through the small doorway. His footsteps on the stairs echoed in the small space.

Elizabeth followed him, still holding Henry's hand. "You OK?" she asked him as they descended the stairs, all too aware that not that long ago he'd been lying on the floor unable to stand when the wind was punched out of him.

He glanced down at her. "Yeah, I'm OK. Are you?"

If she thought too long about it, she'd have to give him an answer he probably wouldn't like. She suspected his thought process before answering her had followed similar lines. All she said was, "Yeah."

"Would you like some history, Madam Secretary?" Andreou Flack spoke up from his place a few steps behind them, sandwiched between two burly Petrian security guards.

"Shut up, Flack." She wasn't in the mood for a story, instead wanting nothing but quiet as they entered the dim tunnel, lit only by the torches carried by Matt, Frank, Greenwood and a couple of the others. It appeared that no one had used the tunnel for years. It wasn't possible to hear the helicopter or the protests, for which Elizabeth was grateful, but there were unsettling, reverberating echoes that encouraged her heart rate to pick up, and scurrying sounds inside the brick-lined walls that suggested while they might be the only humans wandering around below ground level, they weren't the only lifeforms.

Apparently now that he had started talking, Flack couldn't – wouldn't - stop. His last ditch attempt to control something, no doubt. "Did you know that our chancery wasn't always a chancery?"

"Well, considering it was built in the 1800s but only became our embassy base in the 1950s, I guess I did know that." She kept her gaze straight ahead, not wanting to give the guy the satisfaction of turning around to look at him, and also not wanting to deal with the exhausted dizziness she knew would accompany the action. She was concentrating hard on holding her head as still as possible.

"It used to be Rusapol's main mail sorting office, did you know that?"

It was Elizabeth's turn to take a leaf out of Flack's playbook and deliberately fail to answer a goading question. Instead she flexed her fingers against Henry's and carried on walking with careful steps just behind Matt.

"That's what this tunnel was for. It used to transport post between the sorting office and what used to be the Petrian Bureau of Government Communications, among other places. Otherwise known as the propaganda shop, back in the early 1900s. Although it hasn't been the BGC since the twenties."

"And I suppose you're going to tell us what the BGC building is now? A drugs dun or a brothel, I presume?" She wouldn't be surprised, going by their current luck. No doubt it would be something dodgy and dangerous. Although long as they had a working phone, she figured she could deal with it.

"Well, if we keep going to the end of this tunnel, we'll wind up in a back street behind a place that sells kebabs."

Great. That would be just great. Although it did explain why Flack had been prepared to use it as his escape route. A back street behind a takeout place would be anonymous enough that he could just blend in. Elizabeth suspected it was not the kebab shop they were heading for. "And if we don't keep going to the end? If we go to the old BGC?"

It was Matt who answered the question, apparently having lost patience with Andreou Flack's teasing storytelling, especially when he had no doubt already heard it when Elizabeth had gone off to be shouted at by the Chief of Staff and he and Henry had stayed back to quiz Flack on their exit strategy. "That would be the British Embassy, Ma'am."

"Oh, so I was right. A drugs den and a brothel."

The DS agent didn't even crack a smile at her quip, the tension of the evening obviously taking its toll. "Best not say that out loud while we're asking for their help, Ma'am."

That raised an important question. "Will they help us? I mean I know we're friends but is there a chance they're going to just shoot us when we unexpectedly knock on their secret door and send their security people into turmoil?"

Helena Garfield, still wearing her long red evening gown and a pair of battered sneakers, quickened her step to catch up with Elizabeth and Henry. "I know the ambassador pretty well, Madam Secretary. He'll help us. I mean, he'll probably laugh at us first, probably quite hard, but he'll help us. He's a friend."

Behind them, Andreou Flack snorted. "A good friend, is he, Helena?"

"Don't go there, Andreou." There was a warning in the ambassador's voice, a darkness to her tone that Elizabeth was unfamiliar with.

It stopped Flack in his tracks, though, successfully shutting him up for the first time since they entered the tunnel. Not for the first time, Elizabeth wondered about the relationship between the ambassador and the Regional Security Officer. She suspected that discovering Flack's duplicity had snapped something in Helena; the ambassador was being understandably hostile towards the man, but she also seemed to be discreetly licking her wounds. It might be entirely innocent.

Elizabeth suspected that it wasn't.

But she had no time to think about that because they rounded a gentle bend in the tunnel and then Matt came to a stop next to an empty doorway that led to a small dark corridor and then another flight of stone stairs, this time leading up to a door not dissimilar to the one they had come through as they left their own embassy. He turned and fixed Flack with his best interrogative stare. "This the one?"

Elizabeth kept her eyes on her DS agent's face; she trusted his reaction much more than she trusted Flack's.

"That's the one," Flack said.

Matt seemed satisfied with the response and he nodded, and then two of the local security guys joined him at the head of the party, while Frank and Corporal Greenwood closed in around Elizabeth.

"Wait here a moment while I go and knock on the door," Matt said. "If I don't get shot, it should be safe to follow."

Elizabeth watched as he disappeared into the secondary corridor and then she turned into Henry, wrapping her arms around his waist and taking the opportunity to rest her pounding head briefly against his chest, needing the solidity of him against her and the surety of his arms as they came up to wrap carefully around her back. "You OK?" he asked quietly.

She didn't answer. She thought about Russell Jackson yelling at her and all the lights about to go out, clung on a little tighter to Henry.

At the other end of the little corridor, Matt, incongruously with the whole situation, raised his hand and knocked politely on the door. Then he drew back and waited.

When there was no response from the other side of the door after a minute, he gave up on the niceties and started to bang his fist against it.