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After he entered the room the door closed behind him and automatically locked.
Walking around the desk, Nance turned on his computer and sat in an old wooden swivel chair. He rocked back and forth and waited for the program manager to come on-line. He went into his personal database after entering his password, then pulled up the file manager.
Pressing down on the mouse, he scrolled through a list of files until he found the one he was looking for. Nance double-clicked the mouse, and the system asked for another password. Nance entered it, and a moment later he was staring at the name he needed.
Nance reached down and opened the right drawer of the desk, revealing a secure phone.
He picked up the handset and punched in the number. After several whirling noises, a curt voice answered on the other end, “Hello.”
“Jarod, this is Mike. I need you to do a little job for me.” There was a slight pause.
“How difficult?” In a calm voice Nance replied, “No danger to you. The job is rather delicate though. Why don’t we say. an even fifty.” Michael O’Rourke was sound asleep.
The events of the last three days had left him exhausted. After his meetings earlier in the day at the White House and Langley, Michael made a brief appearance at a private visitation for Senator Olson and then went home to sleep. He had just enough energy to make it up the stairs to his bedroom before falling facedown and passing out. O’Rourke had lain in this position, without moving, for almost five hours. Michael stirred slightly at the noise of someone in his room. He was deep in a dream, and at first, he couldn’t decide if someone was really in his room or if it was part of his dream. He made an effort to roll over, but his arms were pinned underneath him and asleep. The next thing he knew he felt a hand on his head. His heart began to race, and his eyes popped open. It took a moment for his eyes to come into focus, and when they did, they revealed a concerned Liz
Scarlatti hovering over him.
O’Rourke rolled onto his side and freed his rubbery arms. He reached up for Liz and pulled her close. Scarlatti smiled and kissed his ear.
“I’ve been calling you all afternoon. Where have you been?”
O’Rourke rubbed his eyes and let out a big yawn. Then, looking toward the window, he asked, “What time is it?”
“Ten after six.”
“Wow.”
O’Rourke stretched and twisted his body, letting out a groan. “That was the nap of the century.”
“How long have you been asleep?” Scarlatti asked, running her fingers through his thick, black hair. “I’m not sure.
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I think since around one.” O’Rourke squeezed Liz tight and kissed her neck. “Mmm . .
. you feel good.”
“So do you. I haven’t seen enough of you lately.”
“We’re going to have to rectify that.” Rolling over, Michael pinned Liz underneath him. She wrapped her arms tightly around his broad back and pulled him close, kissing him. O’Rourke’s midsection growled loudly, and Liz froze her kiss. “Was that your stomach?”
O’Rourke nodded. “What have you eaten today?” O’Rourke looked up at the headboard while he tried to remember what he had eaten. “I’m not sure.
It was a pretty hectic morning.”
“Are you going to tell me about it?”
“Honey, I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you.” With a cautious tone Liz asked, “Did you find out who is behind Erik’s death?”
“Yep.”
“Who?”
“I’m not sure you want to know.” Liz pushed him off her and sat up.
“Yes, I do.” Michael was on his back looking up at her. She had that serious, stubborn look on her face. “Honey, this is some pretty serious shit. I honestly think you would be better off not knowing any of it.”
Liz poked him in the chest. “Do you remember when you told me the other day that if
I ever divulged that Scott Coleman was behind the first four assassinations you would walk out of my life and never talk to me again?” Michael nodded yes. “Well, I can’t live the rest of my life with this big secret hanging between us. If you don’t trust my word that
I will keep your secret, then maybe I should consider walking out of your life.” The comment stung, and Michael propped himself up on his elbows.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just that. the information could be dangerous.”
“I’m a big girl,” Liz said in a patronizing tone.
“If you don’t trust me enough, then we have some problems.” She stared unflinchingly at him. Michael struggled with what to do. He was tired, he was sick of the entire mess, and he just wanted the whole thing to be over. He rubbed his eyes for a second and then sat up.
