Anna Chen headed the China Desk for the Third Assistant to the National Security Advisor for President Clark. At the moment, she was in her cubicle in the West Wing of the White House. She cradled a phone against her shoulder as she spoke with a friend at the National Security Agency.
While she was on the phone, Anna jotted notes, puzzled by her friend’s tone and that he hadn’t yet told her something she didn’t already know. In other words, why had he called?
“How about lunch, Anna?” asked Alfredo Diaz.
Anna frowned thoughtfully. At thirty-six, she was still slender and a stunning beauty. Because of her position, though—and for a variety of reasons she never admitted to herself—Anna wore fake glasses, kept her hair up in an unflattering style and dressed ultra-conservatively. Anna knew men were intimidated by her looks and her intellect, and though she was willing to play down her appearance, she hated acting dumb. In Harvard, she had been president of the chess club and had majored in Chinese History. She’d always won the highest marks in each class, ensuring that by getting the best grades on every paper she wrote and test that she took. During her four years at Harvard—and afterward as well—she had forever been picking up new skills. One year it was piano playing. The next she studied body kinetics and body language. After that, it had been stargazing—she could name eighty-three stars by memory, pointing each one out in the night sky.
All of this drive had led to success. She had written the definitive tome on present China and its policies,
Presidential service in the shark-like environment of political D.C. suited her. During his first term, President Clark had jury-rigged the country’s domestic problems well enough that he was now able to take timid steps in international affairs. The President was considered a dove. For election reasons, he wanted to buff up that image.
As the Chinese expert, Anna was supposed to figure out what was going on over there. Had Deng Fong gained enough personal power to broker a deal on his own? Or had Deng simply been a mouthpiece for the ailing Chairman? According to what the Third Assistant had told her, the President and the National Security Advisor had been second-guessing the Secretary of State’s decision in Sydney for days.
“Did we undercut Deng?” National Security Advisor Green had asked the Third Assistant several days ago. The assistant had related the story to Anna five times already. Here in Washington, proximity to power was the measure of worth, and that included the amount of time one spent with the President and his closest advisors. Because of the President’s increasing interest in foreign affairs, the National Security Advisor had become more important, and that had increased Anna’s importance.
She cradled the receiver under her chin as she waited for Alfredo to speak again, which he did. “Let’s go to lunch, Anna,” Alfredo said, “somewhere loud and obnoxious. With good food, of course.”
Anna underlined lunch. She understood now. Because he worked in the NSA, Alfredo was worried their line was tapped. Part of the job over there was using sophisticated means—satellites mainly—to eavesdrop on foreign and domestic enemies. Alfredo, therefore, had cause to be paranoid. People seemed to worry most about what they themselves did or dealt with. Therefore, liars seemed most worried about other liars. She’d read a study before that said some off-duty police officers took their gun with them when they went outside to empty the trash, because dealing with muggers and thieves all day gave them a darker worldview than, say, a software engineer, who probably worried more about identity theft.
“Do you know of a good place to eat that fits your description?” Anna asked.
“You pick it,” Alfredo said promptly.
“How about Herod’s by the University Mall?” she said.
“Herod’s,” Alfredo said. “Yes, that’s perfect. Can you meet me in an hour?”
“Make it an hour and half,” she said.
“You’re beautiful, my love. I’ll reserve a table for us next to the band. You’ll definitely come, yes?”
“An hour and a half,” Anna confirmed. “Bye.” She immediately hung up, missing his goodbye, if he’d given one.
Anna frowned at her notepad. What did Alfredo want to tell her that was so important he couldn’t speak about it over the phone? She tapped the pad with her pen, deciding she’d better summon Tanaka, her regular security man.
The Third Assistant didn’t like it when she went places without any security. He recognized that Third Assistant to the National Security Advisor didn’t make him a primary target, let alone those working for him. But he’d told her more than once that she was a special case, and Anna was quite certain her boss meant it as a compliment.
If there weren’t some merit to what he’d said, she’d have declined the protection. The Aztlan separatists seemed to have lost their fire recently, but the incidents of kidnapping—and often the execution—of government people had risen all over the world. It wasn’t just an American problem. At this point in history, the world seemed hell-bent on continuing to fracture into smaller and smaller national entities. There wasn’t even a Great Britain anymore. Instead, it was England, Wales and Scotland, each a separate nation. This nationalism is what had broken up NATO.
Picking up the phone, Anna decided to play it safe. Besides, Tanaka made her feel better in the city, which was a welfare jungle seething with violence. Her mother had told her many years ago that men wanted her body, and would do outrageous things to acquire it. Anna could often hear her mother’s scolding voice in her head whenever she walked the streets alone. An hour and a half—she’d need the time to prepare her security and run a quick check on Herod’s, Alfredo and the safest route to the mall. These days, with so many people out of work and looking for money, it paid to prepare.
The big band music crashed through the dining area of Herod’s. The musicians wore glittering suits as they played their instruments in the alcove. Overhead, massive, slowly rotating chandeliers added to the ambiance. Herod’s was one of the posh spots of the capital. Waiters in tails took the orders. Cocktail waitresses wearing strings of sequins brought the drinks. Because it was the 2030s, a huge fad had developed on the East Coast for the 1930s. Nostalgia for the first Depression was fashionable and growing.
Anna wore a pants suit that did nothing to heighten her beauty. She still wore glasses, her hair in a bun and used makeup to dampen the smoothness of her skin.
Tanaka moved ahead of her. The security agent wore a slick suit and dark sunglasses. Anna knew he kept a gun in his jacket. His hair was greased back and he had stern features, an expert in personal security. Anna liked him because he hardly ever spoke and never offered her an opinion on anything.
Many of the higher government officials hired their own security these days, gunmen bought on the cheap. The National Security Advisor kept more guards than average, as he was a rich man. With the state of the economy, it was relatively easy to find competent men like Tanaka.
“You brought your pet goon!” Alfredo shouted over the noise.
Tanaka didn’t even glance at the NSA man sitting at a small table to the immediate left of the alcove. Tanaka glanced around, possibly examining the various tables and their occupants, and then he bent near Anna’s ear.
“I’ll wait outside the dining room,” Tanaka said in a deep voice, his hot breath blowing against her skin.
A shiver ran down Anna’s spine from his voice, but she clamped down on any outer emotions. She nodded as Tanaka turned and strode away. Other security men always pulled out her chair for her. Tanaka had never offered once. She wondered why, and she was surprised that it nettled her. She even glanced back at him as he moved gracefully through the crowd. He was like a panther.
“Are you troubled?” Alfredo asked.
Anna features tightened as she pulled out her chair, sat down and picked up the menu. Like everything else here, it was elegant in overdone art deco.
“The french fries are to die for,” Alfredo said.
Anna lowered her menu. “You order. Make it something light, though.”
Alfredo motioned to a waiter, and when he arrived, put in their order. While he did so, Anna looked around. The dining area was packed with millionaires, lobbyists, important bloggers, ambassadors and Congressmen with
