Chapter 37
I walked out onto the balcony, the concrete still wet from the afternoon rain.
Below me, the city was lighting up, the windows of the federal buildings glowing like yellow grid lines in the dusk.
The Potomac River was a dark, winding ribbon under the bridge.
I set the satellite phone on the metal balcony railing.
At precisely seventeen hundred hours, the small green light on the phone began to flash rapidly.
The device vibrated against the metal railing, a low buzz that sounded like an angry insect.
I picked it up and pressed the green button.
“Claire,” his voice said.
The sound was thin, accompanied by the dry hiss of satellite static, but it was him.
“Dad,” I said.
“You did well today,” he said. “The Senate committee has everything they need to make the arrests stick.”
“Why did you do it this way?” I asked, my voice tight. “Why the cyphers? Why Maya?”
“I had to make sure the Vances did not realize what was happening until the trap was closed,” he said. “If I had contacted you directly, Harrison’s team would have flagged the communication. They had your terminal mirrored.”
“You let me mourn you for eleven years,” I said. “I stood at your grave marker in Arlington.”
“There was nothing in that grave but a couple of sandbags, Claire,” he said. “But the threat to you was real. The Vances had already bought three members of the Senate Armed Services committee. If they knew I was alive, they would have used you as leverage.”
“I had to become a ghost, Claire, to protect you from what they built,” he said.
The words landed with a heavy, quiet finality.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“A small town near the border,” he said. “The air is dry. It is good for my lungs.”
“Can I see you?”
“No,” he said. “The Justice Department is going to spend the next three years untangling this. If they find out I am alive, they will want to know where the files came from. This is the only way you stay clear.”
“I do not care about the clearance anymore,” I said.
“I do,” he said. “You have your life back, Claire. Do not let them take it from you again.”
May you like
The static on the line grew louder, a high-pitched whine that cut through his voice.
“Keep the notepad,” he said. “But turn off the phone.”
