Jack went to the funerals alone. He and Melanie had achieved some sort of detente in their relationship; they both understood why they had lied to each other, but trust was a precious commodity in a love affair, and trust had been thoroughly breached by both of them.
For whatever justifications, their relationship was tarnished, and they found they had little to say to each other.
Jack was not surprised to see Mary Pat Foley and her husband, Ed, at Sam Granger’s funeral in Baltimore. When the Saturday-afternoon services were completed, Jack asked for a moment alone with the director of national intelligence. Ed excused himself to go chat with Gerry Hendley, and Mary Pat’s security officer lagged far behind his boss and the President’s son as the two walked alone through the cemetery.
They found a wooden bench and sat down. Mary Pat looked behind her to her security officer, gave him a nod that said “Give us some space,” and he stepped back twenty yards and turned in the other direction.
“You okay, Jack?”
“I need to talk to you about Melanie.”
“Okay.”
“She’s been informing on me, first for Charles Alden, last year during the Kealty affair, and then, after Alden was arrested, she was approached by a guy at FBI, National Security Branch. He wanted intel on me and Hendley Associates.”
Mary Pat’s eyebrows rose. “NSB?”
Jack shook his head. “It’s not as bad as it sounds for us. This guy was actually a Center proxy agent.”
“Christ. What’s his name?”
“Darren Lipton.”
She nodded. “Well, he’ll be out of a job by lunch on Monday, that’s for damn sure.”
Jack cracked a strained smile. “You won’t find him in his office Monday. I think I broke his jaw.”
“I’m sure the Bureau of Prisons will be able to accommodate his liquid diet.” Mary Pat then looked off in the distance for a long time. “Why did Melanie agree to inform on you? I mean, other than the fact she was working on orders from her superior and federal law enforcement.”
“A secret in her past. Something Center found out about her dad, something the FBI guy held over her.”
Mary Pat Foley waited for Ryan to explain. When he did not speak, she said, “I’m going to need to know, Jack.”
Ryan nodded. Then he told her about her father, about her lie.
Mary Pat did not seem as surprised as Ryan had expected. She said, “I’ve been doing this a long time. The drive and determination I saw in that young lady was something unique. I understand now, she was compensating, trying to outdo everyone else because she felt like she had to.”
Ryan said, “If it helps at all, Clark says she saved lives at Hendley. Without her, we’d be going to a few more funerals.”
Mary Pat nodded, seemingly half lost in thought.
“What are you going to do?” Jack asked.
“She knows about The Campus. She’s finished at CIA for lying on her background investigation, but I sure as hell am not going to rake her over the coals. I’ll head down to talk to her right now.”
“If you tell her to resign, she’s going to know you are aware of The Campus. This could be a problem for you.”
DNI Foley waved her hand in the air. “I’m not worried about me. It may sound hokey, but it’s more important to me to preserve the integrity of American intelligence, and to preserve the security of the organization your father set up with the best of intentions. I’ve got to try to do that.”
Jack nodded. He felt like shit.
Mary Pat saw this and said, “Jack. I’ll go easy on her. She did what she thought was right. She’s a good kid.”
“Yeah,” Jack said after a moment of reflection. “She is.”
Mary Pat Foley’s black Suburban pulled up in front of Melanie Kraft’s Alexandria carriage-house apartment just after four in the afternoon. The temperature had dropped below freezing, and the low gray skies spit a light mix of snow and freezing rain.
The DNI’s driver waited in the car, but her security officer walked with her to the front door holding an umbrella over her with his left hand. He stood beside her as she knocked on the door, with his free hand slipping inside his coat to his right hip.
Melanie answered quickly; there was nowhere in her flat more than ten steps to the front door.
She did not smile when she saw Mary Pat, who had become her friend as well as her boss. Instead she backed away from the door and said, meekly, “Won’t you come in?”
On the drive down from Baltimore, Mary Pat had asked her bodyguard if he had a problem with her spending a few minutes alone with one of her employees in her apartment. This was just a tiny sliver of the truth, but it served its purpose. The burly security officer did a quick walk around the tiny apartment and then went back outside to stand underneath the umbrella.
While he did this, Mary Pat stood in the living room and looked around. It did not take the head of the American intelligence community long to derive the situation. It was easily discernible that the occupant of this apartment was moving out. Two suitcases were open against the wall. They were half filled with clothes. Several cardboard boxes were already sealed with tape, and several more were still unfolded, lying flat against the wall.
“Have a seat,” Melanie said, and Mary Pat sat on the tiny love seat. Melanie herself sat on a metal bistro chair.
“I wasn’t going to just leave,” Melanie said by way of explanation. “I was going to call you tonight and ask if I could come by.”
“What are you doing?”
“I am resigning.”
“I see,” Foley said. Then, “Why?”
“Because I lied on my background investigation. I lied so damn well I beat the polygraph. I thought it did not matter, the thing I was lying about, but I see now that any lie can be used to compromise someone, someone who knows America’s most closely kept secrets.
“I was vulnerable, and I was duped. I was used. All because of a stupid lie that I never thought would come back to haunt me.”
“I see,” said Mary Pat.
“Maybe you do, maybe you don’t. I am not sure what you know, but don’t tell me. I don’t want to do anything to compromise you.”
“So you just fall on your sword?”
Melanie chuckled a little. She reached down to one of several stacks of books on the floor along the wall and, while she talked, began packing them in a plastic milk crate. “I didn’t think of it like that. I’ll be fine. I’ll go back to school, find something else that interests me.” She smiled a little more broadly now. “And be damn good at it.”
Mary Pat said, “I feel sure that you will.”
“I’ll miss the job. I’ll miss working for you.” She sighed a little. “And I’ll miss Jack.” After a pause she added, “But I won’t miss this fucking town.”
“Where will you go?”
She slid the full milk crate to the side, and then pulled over a cardboard box. This she began filling with more books. “I am going home. To Texas. To my dad.”
“Your dad?”
She said, “Yes. I turned my back on him a long time ago for a mistake he made. Now I see that what I did was not so very different, and I don’t think I’m a bad person. I’ve got to get home to him and let him know that despite everything that happened, we’re still a family.”
Mary Pat Foley could tell Melanie was resolute but still pained by her decision.
