Chapter 8
Leon gulped a mouthful of coffee, wincing at how bad it tasted. He glanced over to Hunnigan, working dutifully at her desk and drinking her own cup. She caught his look, and for a minute just stared back, waiting for him to speak. When he didn't, the look quickly turned irritated when she recognized the accusatory stare. She deliberately took another drink while staring him down, as if to dare him to say it out loud, but he backed down, returning to the demanding task of continuing to drink the horrible brew.
Why is it that she's the first one to make it to the coffee maker each morning?
It was probably because he never knew Ingrid Hunnigan to sleep. He'd seen her run down and tired, with plenty of morning hair and circles under her eyes, but even after all that, she never dozed at her desk or in the car between meetings. She was always at a desk when he left for the evening, and she was always there when he returned in the morning.
…along with bad coffee already made. He'd thought by now she would have a knack for how to make it.
It had been a few days since the attack, and the GSA and the Secret Service hadn't budged from New York. Standard procedure would have had them hustle Graham back to the White House, back on home turf and surrounded by plenty of security. However, Fischer wasn't comfortable with having the President in transit for even the relatively short distance back to DC, so as a result, most of the Secret Service and the remainder of the GSA came to New York while another conference was held at the UN Headquarters.
While Graham was busy trying to hold the rest of the world together after the attack on their doorstep, the rest of them were tasked with trying to track down who was behind the attack. Numerous terrorist groups had claimed credit, but the CIA was fairly convinced it wasn't any of the known cells. They had the entire country's information resources running full for the past few days. Leon had been curious to see more of what they did, but being cramped into a tiny substation in a New York high rise filled with civilians quickly grew old.
He just didn't see the point to all the ringing phones and stacks of papers. Hunnigan might excel at stuff like that, but he would much rather be out in the world digging up the hard facts to relay back to them. But orders were orders, and Fischer explicitly wanted him to be immersed in the investigation, so that when they did get something, he'd be ready.
He was just thinking of going to Fischer to request being put back on Ashley's escort duty when his cell phone rang. When he checked the number, it was listed as unknown. Frowning, he flipped it open. "Kennedy."
"Hello Leon."
He stiffened as that familiar, sultry purr hit his ear, a voice that he was never sure if he would hear again. A flush ran through his body, like he just broke out in a light sweat, and he swallowed hard.
"Ada."
He didn't mean to utter her name so loudly, but he did before he could help it. Everyone in the room knew her name, and when the people next to him heard it, they fell silent, and then the people next to them, and so on. Hushed whispers had to be exchanged explaining why the entire room eventually fell dead quiet, and every set of eyes trained on him.
"Surprised to hear from me?"
Fischer stumbled out from a group of interns, waving his hands at Leon, making a circle motion. He got what he was trying to silently convey: keep her talking, we're tracing it.
"Uh, yeah," Leon stammered, turning towards the floor-to-ceiling windows that spanned the wall, putting a forced casual tone to his voice. "How did you get my number? Only my boss and a few others have it. Secret government agents aren't exactly listed."
"Oh, I have my ways," she replied dreamily, then chuckled. "But I'll tell you, it wasn't easy. Like you said, you're not listed. I had to call in a few favors."
"Uh-huh…" was all Leon could reply to that. In all honesty, he shouldn't have been surprised that she could get his number.
All around him, various agents, both GSA and CIA quietly picked up headsets, slipped them on, and patched into the call. He had been through the call tracing process before, and didn't feel indignation at people listening in, but so many other agents and officials listening in, plus his boss, made his nerves rise.
His unique relationship with an enemy wasn't common knowledge in the government. In fact, Hunnigan was the only one who caught on that he always acted a little funny around her. So far, his secret was safe with her, but if Ada said something, Fischer, and the President, would be on him faster than he would like…
…then he realized he wasn't giving Ada enough credit. She knew that he'd be doing his job in trying to track her, so she knew people would be listening in, and even though she was cunning, some things were taboo. Even for her.
"So, should I be worried about having to change my number?" he asked, putting on a neutral face. "I'm not big fan of telemarketers."
"Hm, don't worry, I was discreet. The people I acquired it from aren't interested in harassing government agents. Only…watching them."
How comforting, he though bitterly. He caught Hunnigan's eye, and she made that same circular motion with her hand that Fischer did, but looked pleased nonetheless, dare he say a little cocky. Keep her talking, looking good, it said.
"So, are you going to tell me why you called?" he asked, pacing to the window.
"What's the harm in catching up first?" she asked. The tease in her voice sounded entirely innocent, like she was splayed out on a couch somewhere, twirling a phone cord with her fingers. Ada's perfection went beyond her looks; even her voice was auditory sex. "How are things?"
"They're fine," he replied tightly, with a hint of sarcasm. "Our country was attacked, Graham nearly killed, and everything's been under lock and key for days. Funny thing is, I can think of ways to be worse off."
"It's been all over the news. I'm sure one of the reasons why he's still alive is because you performed admirably."
Probably true, but he wasn't about to bloat that fact in front of his boss, Hunnigan, and an entire room of CIA agents, and especially not to Ada Wong herself, when he had help with the entire situation. It was a compliment, one he would take from her humbly.
"So, seeing anybody?"
"Ah, excuse me?" he asked, not entirely sure if he had heard her correctly. The cool exterior he had put on crumbled as a red tint rose in his cheeks.
"I said: are you seeing anybody? You know, a lucky girl to take some of that stress off? Don't tell me it's the President's daughter…you never struck me as interested in blondes."
He saw Fischer shake his head in amazement out of the periphery of his vision. "Funny, Ada. I don't think Graham would take it too lightly if I moved in on his daughter while keeping her safe."
Besides, he went for tall and Asian.
"I thought as much," she sighed, as if being deprived some juicy gossip."What about that Redfield girl? You two would be a good match. Or maybe that brunette with the glasses that always follows you around?"
There was a vey distinct stutter in the sound of Hunnigan's computer strokes, and when he turned to glance at her, she was beet red, and focused intently on her computer. He heard a few snickers from the corner of the room, and somehow managed to keep the blush from increasing in his cheeks. In truth, he'd made a few passes at Hunnigan, but it was usually just to annoy her more than anything.
"I don't think I'm her type," he said flatly, swearing he heard another stutter in the keyboard clatter. "Don't tell me the only reason you called was to talk about my sex life."
"Of course not. You wouldn't believe me if I told you that you couldn't trace my call, so I thought why not let you figure it out for yourself?"
Almost on cue, Hunnigan hit her keyboard, and then threw up her hands in frustration, afterwards rubbing her eyes tiredly. Fischer shot her a questioning look, as did Leon.
"Basically, I can narrow it down to the continent of North America," she said with a scowl, then leaned back in her chair and fumed. "I don't know how she's doing it, but we're not getting anything."
Leon should have known better that Ada wouldn't let herself be pinged with a simple phone trace. If that had been the case, they would have captured her long ago. She called them, which meant they played by her rules.
"Alright, you've made your point," he said, annoyed. "Now would you mind telling me what you want?"
There was a pause on the other end of the line, and for a minute, he thought she had hung up on him. What a great crank call. But her purr returned. "I have information."
He matched her pause, daring to hope for the best. "…about Wesker?"
"Not exactly, at least, not directly. I don't know what to make of it, but I'm sure you and the rest of the world would like to get your hands on it."
"Well, what is it?" He paced back and forth, a little irritated with her typical dance around the truth. At the same time, she sounded uncertain. She wasn't just playing keep away; she wasn't sure if this move was in her best interests. Coming from Ada, that was a surprise.
"I can't tell you over the phone, not with what happened last time."
"The GSA is clean. Bryce was the only insider he had."
Ada laughed bitterly. "I'd like to believe you, but I can't trust your judgment. Don't take it personally."
She had a point, and he hadn't been truthful about the GSA being mole-free. The truth was that their lengthy investigation turned up squat. Nothing suspicious or malicious on any of the files or history of the agents or staff, which had been the case before a decorated agent, Bryce Andres, turned out to be a sleeper agent for Wesker. For all he knew, there could be another one standing in the room, listening in to the call, and they wouldn't know any better.
"I guess I can see your angle," he admitted in defeat. "So how exactly are we supposed to do this?"
She snickered like a schoolgirl at a dirty joke. "Never thought I'd hear those words out of your mouth, Leon. I want to meet."
"You want to meet?" he repeated dubiously.
"I want to meet. Face to face. You and me. Alone. In person. No other agents, no wires, no recorders or cameras."
"Why just me?" he asked, though he knew the answer.
"Because you're the only one I can trust. I'm just playing the cards that I have. I have information that we can both benefit from, but I can't do it alone."
"Never thought I'd hear you say that," he smirked.
"Touché," she returned dryly.
If there was any doubt that Ada had defected, it was now gone. At least, that's what he wanted to believe. Wesker tried to assassinate her inside their own headquarters, which should have been proof enough, but with their organization, it was impossible to tell what was the truth, and what was just an elaborate show to make you think it was the truth. Maybe this was her attempt to try and infiltrate the GSA directly. Maybe she was the one who was ultimately trying to kill Graham.
Still, he couldn't see her using him like that. Ada played the opposite side of the fence, but between them, some things were taboo. Wesker or not, she wouldn't play their relationship like that. That was something he could believe in steadfastly believe in.
Leon realized that his silence stretched longer than he intended. Fischer, Hunnigan, and most of the room were still watching him intently. He caught Fischer's eye, and he nodded. That was the only permission he needed.
He swallowed and turned back towards the window. "Okay, where did you have in mind? Obviously, you don't want to come down to our HQ."
"Atlantic City. There's a nightclub called Providence. Meet me there, alone, tomorrow night, eleven pm sharp. We can talk things over and make an arrangement. Sound good?"
Not really.
He hesitated before speaking. "Alright."
"Oh, and Leon?"
"Yeah?"
"Tell your brunette friend that she'd look better in teal. Black really clashes with brown."
The line went dead. Leon turned, confused, and looked at Hunnigan. She looked down, at her brown blazer and the black blazer beneath it…
She can see us!
He spun back to the window, looking into the jungle of high-rises that surrounded the building, but it was pointless. All he could do was shake his head, partially out of amusement, and partially out of appreciation for her skill and the hope she was still watching. She could have gone the entire conversation revealing that she was in the same city as them, within direct line of sight, but he knew that even if she did, they wouldn't find her.
The room stayed quiet, though he could feel the tension behind him, even when Fischer ordered everyone to get back to work. Most of the people weren't used to the most dangerous woman in world spying on them without them noticing, but he didn't mind.
What did bother him was the fact that he now had a date with her.
Author's Note: This scene was inspired from The Bourne Supremacy. For those of you who haven't seen the movie (or read the book) I suggest you do, because it does spy thriller a lot better than me.