Domino Effect (2019 Edition)

about to tell Nathan, anyway. As Shea said, I’m smata than I look.”

7
From the door of the jet, Sin saw Frank’s car waiting for them on the runway.
“You stay here while I talk to the driver,” Frank said.
“No problem. I need to check on my bike, anyway.”
A few minutes later, Sin approached the car. “Where is your driver?”
“I told him o get a cup of coffee. That I’d text him when we’re ready.”
Frank and Sin sat in the back of his car, she connected a call, via Skype, to a number he gave her.
President Lancaster’s face appeared on the screen. Sin surveyed the environment the president was in and hit the mute button. “Where the hell is he?” she mumbled.
“The pantry behind the kitchen at HQ. It’s the one place I know isn’t bugged.”
She tapped the mute button and nodded towards Frank.
“Mr. President, can you hear us?” Frank asked.
“I can hear you, but I don’t see Agent O’Malley.”
She pressed the zoom button, widening the view. “How’s that?”
“Better. I understand this was your idea, Agent. Good thinking. I’m afraid I’m not thinking too straight.”
“That’s understandable,” she replied. “I wish we were meeting under different circumstances, Mr. President.”
“Me too, but we play the hand we’re dealt.”
She watched as the president glanced in Frank’s direction. “I understand the need for secrecy, Frank,” the president said, rubbing his hands together, “but couldn’t you have found a room that didn’t feel like a freezer?”
“Not one that guaranteed privacy.”
“Well then, let’s get to it,” Lancaster said. “Frank thinks you’re the right person for the job, O’Malley. I’d like to hear what you think.”
“What I think? I think oil prices are too high, and Big Brother is watching. How about you?”
The tension hung in the air to the point where it was palpable to everyone. Lancaster snarled. “You are a feisty bitch.”
“You have no idea,” she answered.
Frank cleared his throat. “Have you heard from the kidnappers, Mr. President?” he said, trying to diffuse the situation.
Lancaster audibility exhaled. “I received another text at four-thirty this morning,” Lancaster said, digging a cell from his suit coat pocket.
Sin instructed the president on how to download the information from his computer to hers. She had it seconds later. It was an image of Becca, tied to a different chair, being fed. The message was brief, Becca’s safe, but you need to call off the dogs.
She eyed the president on the screen. “It appears your daughter’s been moved. Then there’s the issue of the black glove. Any idea of the significance?”
Lancaster rubbed his chin, his eyes drifted up and left. “The kidnapper is wearing long-sleeves and gloves. I figured he was covering up his skin color or any identifying marks.”
“Just what I was thinking.” From her peripheral vision, she noticed Frank’s posture stiffen. From his body language, she could tell he knew she was lying, but he remained silent. She watched as the president fiddled with the phone. “What about your man on the ground, Smith?” Sin added. “Any new information?”
“Russell did what he could in Key West, but as the director of the Secret Service and the head of my own security team, he felt the necessity to come back to Washington. He’s afraid the kidnappers might try to target me next. He left Jason Sawyer in charge. Jason has been the head of Becca’s security team since I took office. He’s a good man.”
Evidently not good enough, she thought. “What does Sawyer have to say?”
“Nothing worthwhile,” Lancaster said, his free hand now on top of a file. “I had his notes loaded on a flash drive. I’ll send them to you.”
Her computer pinged instantaneously. “Everything is worthwhile in an investigation. Even if it seems trivial,” she thought aloud. She read the file while the president kept talking.
“I was an agent with the Bureau before you were born, O’Malley. I do know a little about what’s important.”
“I have no doubt,” she said, eyeing the contents of the file. Done, she closed the tab with a flick of her finger. “There’s nothing in here that wasn’t there yesterday.”
“Like I said, there’s nothing new worthwhile.”
She raked her manicured nails through her hair and turned towards Frank. “He’s all yours, Director. I have thirteen days and eight hours left on my leave. I’ll be in touch.” She twisted in her seat, getting ready to leave, about to close the laptop.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going, O’Malley?”
Sin turned back towards the screen. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, sir, but I’m not in the mood to play some locker room game of whose is bigger. You,” she punctuated, pointing at Frank and Lancaster, “called me. If you want to play games, play them with someone else.” Turning toward the door, she added, “I’ll see you at Becca’s funeral.”
“Wait,” Lancaster said. “Please.” His tone softened. She turned her head but didn’t move from the door. “I needed to know if you were everything I’ve heard; if you were the one who could bring my Becca home.” His voice cracked at the last word.
She faced the screen. “Where’s the real file?”
Lancaster opened a briefcase, pulled out another thumb drive, and sent her the info. “How’d you know?”
“Call it a hunch,” she said, opening the file.
“Bullshit,” Lancaster said, letting bull hang a bit longer in the air.
“Call it whatever you want,” she said as she continued to read, “I really don’t care.”
“Seriously, Agent,” Lancaster said with an air of respect. “How did you know?”
She looked up from the information he’d sent. “Body language.”
“Such as?”
“You played with your phone a little too much, but that could be forgiven considering the situation you’re in. The veins on the back of your hand quivered when you plugged in the first thumb drive. That was the first tell. Goose bumps sprang up on your forearm faster than weeds in a Texas cow pasture while I read the contents; that was the second.” She arched her right brow. “There were others, should I continue?”
“I’ll be damned,” Lancaster said. “This