Blacksnow Zero Read online

  “My downfall was working for a piece of shit like you.”

  His mouth pressed into a thin line. “These agents will take you back to your desk. You will pack all of your personal belongings and they will escort you out of the building. If you decide to appeal this dismissal, you can do so online. Do not return to this building unless you are requested to do so. Is that clear, Erica?”

  She gave him an enigmatic smile. Then she hit him with a solid uppercut, the punch knocking him off his feet.

  ***

  Secretary of State Audrey Cruz turned off the computer screen and leaned back in her seat. She was in her spacious office at the State Department, mulling over the call she’d just concluded.

  Between bites of a stale doughnut, she sipped coffee. The call disturbed her on several levels. First, she hadn’t liked his brusque tone and secondly, hadn’t appreciated his hint of a threat. She swiveled her chair, looked out at the D.C. skyline. It was a bright, sunny day outside but her mood was dark.

  Years ago, her arrangement with the general had seemed like a win-win. She received hefty quarterly wire transfers to her private Swiss bank account. All she had to do was keep her Chinese ‘contact’ informed of U.S. foreign policy. It had worked like clockwork for a long time, but now things had soured. The general had become very demanding, trying to pry more and more information from her. But now that Taylor was president, many of her sources had dried up. Taylor was a different animal, inscrutable. And she wasn’t buying the Chinese involvement in the Wilson assassination. The Chinese were too clever for that. They had nothing to gain and everything to lose.

  Audrey drained the last of her coffee and picked up the phone. She had one good source left. She hated to use her friend, but her options were limited.

  ***

  Bethesda, Maryland

  Senator Megan Lewis stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom and slowly combed her hair. Finished, she touched up her lipstick and was about to sit down and read for a while when she heard a rap at her door.

  “Your guest is here, Senator,” her maid said, her voice muffled by the closed door.

  “Right down,” Megan replied as she took a last look at her appearance. Satisfied with her hair and the way she filled out her low-cut black dress, she headed out of the room.

  Moments later she found Audrey Cruz seated in the study, sipping a glass of wine. A vintage bottle of Sauvignon Blanc sat on the coffee table.

  Megan bent down, gave the woman a kiss on the mouth and said, “Audrey. I’m so glad you called. I’ve been thinking about you.” She sat next to the woman, picked up her glass of wine and took a sip.

  Cruz smiled. “You look great, Megan.”

  “As do you, dear.” She studied the other woman. The secretary of state was tall, with long, raven hair and sculpted good looks. She was wearing a stylish, body-hugging gray jumpsuit. The two women had shared many delicious times in each other’s arms and Megan was looking forward to more.

  “How are things at State?” Lewis asked.

  Cruz waived a hand in the air. “With everything that’s happened, it’s hard to tell.”

  “I know,” Megan replied. “Now that Wilson is gone, nothing’s quite the same.”

  The secretary drained her glass, set it down. “Taylor’s a bastard. If he gets elected next year, I’ll be out at State.” Her voice had a hard edge to it.

  “You think?”

  “I know it for a fact. We never got along.”

  Megan nodded. “I know that feeling. Taylor and I are like cats and dogs when we’re around each other. I had a deal cooking with Wilson…don’t know if Taylor will go for it.…”

  “A deal? What kind of deal?”

  Megan paused, not sure if she should share the information with her friend. “It’s confidential…you understand.”

  Cruz placed a hand on Megan’s cheek, then leaned over and kissed the senator on the mouth. Megan felt a thrill and pulled the woman closer. As their tongues intertwined, Megan felt the other woman caressing her breasts.

  Minutes later the senator pulled away, took another sip of her wine. Her face was flushed and she was breathing heavily.

  A playful smile crossed Cruz’s lips. “Just like old times.”

  Megan smiled back, picked up the bottle of expensive wine and refilled the glasses. “Our time together has always been special.”

  Cruz’s eyes twinkled. “Tell me about this deal of yours. I’m curious.”

  Megan shrugged. “Sure, why not. We’re good friends.” She sipped the wine, then proceeded to tell Cruz the deal she’d made with Henry Mueller, the Swiss banker. She left out the sexual interlude she’d had with him, but other than that, told her everything else.

  The secretary’s eyes went wide. “Wow. That’s some deal.”

  “Yeah, that’s a fact.”

  “Did he go for it?”

  “He did, as did his board of directors. But now with Wilson gone…I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

  “Have you talked with Taylor?”

  Megan pursed her lips. “Called his office several times, to set up an appointment. The new chief of staff, Corvan, gave me the runaround, said the president’s too busy. I’ve been a pain in Taylor’s side for a long time, so I’m not holding my breath.”

  Cruz looked pensive. “I see.”

  The senator drank more wine and leaned back on the couch. Just then the maid knocked on the door and peered in the room. “Dinner is ready, Senator.”

  Megan glanced at Cruz. “You hungry, Audrey?”

  “I’m hungry. But not for food.”

  Megan turned to the maid. “Put the dinner in the warming oven. We’ll be upstairs for a while.”

  The maid nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Megan stood and led Cruz up the stairs and into her bedroom.

  A half-hour later, Megan lay on her back, nude, with an equally naked Cruz grinding on top of her. The senator had already come once, thanks to Cruz’s voracious mouth, which had begun working on her minutes after the two women undressed.

  Megan cupped the other woman’s breasts with her hands, felt the intense thrill as Cruz rubbed her glistening body ferociously against her. Their bodies rocked in unison, building toward a joint release. The bedroom smelled of incense candles, expensive perfume and sex, and the senator breathed deep, wanting to remember the moment with all her senses.

  “Don’t…stop.” Megan whispered urgently.

  Cruz said nothing in response, only increased the tempo, continuing to grind even harder.

  Megan knew she was almost there, her fingernails digging into Cruz’s flawless breasts, almost cutting the skin.

  She saw Cruz squeeze her eyes shut, heard her groan, and felt the woman’s body tense, just as her own pent-up pleasure exploded. Megan gritted her teeth as the bliss cascaded through her in a long series of waves.

  Cruz collapsed into her arms and Megan held her tightly.

  They lay like that for a time, their ragged breathing eventually slowing to normal. Neither spoke, the only sound in the room coming from the antique clock on the mantle above the fireplace.

  Cruz rolled off of her to lie on her back. “Just like old times,” she said.

  Megan turned on her side, stared at the beautiful woman next to her. She reached over with her hand caressed Cruz’s face. “You’re the best friend I have, Audrey.”

  Cruz’s covered Megan’s hand with her own, and the two women looked into each other’s eyes.

  Then a sly grin crossed Cruz’s face. “I’m not done with you yet.”

  Megan laughed and pulled the other woman towards her. “Dinner can wait,” she murmured.

  ***

  Bobby Garcia was tired. Tired of sitting in the Suburban and tired of this assignment. Watching the senator’s comings and goings was becoming a bore. He would have assigned it to one of his men, but the general had been very specific. He wanted Garcia to do it.

  He glanced at his watch, then peered through
the night-vision goggles at the stately home across the street. The senator’s visitor was still inside, her BMW sedan parked in the driveway. He had recognized the woman – she was Audrey Cruz, the secretary of state.

  Sipping his now cold coffee, his thoughts drifted to his wife, Maria. He wished he were home now, snuggled up to her watching something on TV, instead of sitting in the SUV wishing the time away. But his mood brightened as he remembered the countdown of BlackSnow. Only two weeks left.

  The whirring sound of the vehicle’s air conditioner brought him back to the present.

  The home’s portico lights came on and he spotted Cruz walking down the front steps and climbing into her car. Moments later the BMW was back on the street, merging with the rest of the traffic.

  But Garcia stayed put, continuing to monitor the house. The portico lights turned off and he crossed his arms and settled back in the seat.

  13 Days to Zero Hour

  Washington, D.C.

  Erica Blake leaned against the cell’s concrete wall. She was in jail, in a temporary holding area for the recently arrested. The FBI had charged her with assault and turned her over to MPDC, the district’s local police force.

  Erica glanced at the other women in the cell, mostly sleazy-looking women – low-rent hookers, drifters and junkies with arms sporting fresh tracks. The women sat, muttering or groaning, on the long benches by the wall. She had inspected the bench earlier – it was coated with a foul-smelling, greasy substance she couldn’t identify. She chose to stand instead.

  The room reeked of urine, feces, vomit, and foul body odor, and was stifling hot. If there was AC in the place, she couldn’t tell. Fluorescent, bluish-cast lights flickered overhead.

  Staring through the bars at the far end of the cell, she thought about the events of the last day. It was stupid, she knew, to have punched Temerius. But it had felt good, really good, in spite of the pain in her hand. Like the credit-card commercial says, it was priceless.

  But now she had to pay the price. She glanced at her wrist to look at the time, quickly remembered they had taken her watch during processing, along with her belt, blazer, money and everything else in her pockets.

  A burly black woman came up to her, said, “What you looking at, sister?” The voice was low and menacing. The woman, dressed in a torn, white t-shirt and jeans, had tattoos on both arms and on her neck. Her black hair was close-cropped and the word ‘butch’ came to Erica’s mind.

  “Minding my own business,” Erica replied, her tone neutral.

  “My name’s T’wana, and I run this place.”

  Erica gave her a cold smile, glanced around the room. “Nothing to be proud of. This place is a shit-hole.”

  T’wana closed the space between them and jabbed her finger on Erica’s chest. “You dissing me? I want some respect. You hear, white girl?”

  Erica’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Take your hand off of me.”

  The woman sneered. “Or what? Pretty white girl like you, I could have a lot of fun with you, once I break you in.” The woman let out a harsh laugh.

  The other inmates by now had all stood up, formed a semi-circle around the two.

  Erica took a step back from T’wana and the woman smiled. “Thought as much. You got a yellow stripe down your back.”

  Erica closed her fist and punched the woman’s solar plexus. As T’wana staggered back, Erica spun her body into a roundhouse kick, her foot landing with a thud on the woman’s face. T’wana dropped to the floor.

  The other inmates whooped and hollered, obviously not close friends of their cellmate.

  Erica crouched by the black woman, stared at her bloody nose and felt her pulse. T’wana was unconscious, but would be okay in a while.

  “It’s all over, girls,” she said to the others as she stood up. “You can go back to knitting, or whatever else you do in here.”

  The group broke up and Erica went back to leaning on the wall.

  Two hours later a clanging noise outside the cell startled her and she saw a uniformed correctional officer approach the cell door, while a second one stood guard next to him, his hand touching the gun in his holster. The first one unlocked the door, swung it open, pointed to her and said, “Blake. You’re coming with us. Your bail’s been posted.”

  The guards led her through narrow concrete corridors and back up to the discharge area. There, a rotund, grouchy officer gave her a large envelope with her personal belongings. “Follow me,” he said, and led her through the last cell door and into a sparse waiting room.

  “Wait here,” the officer said. “I’ll call, let them know upstairs you’re ready to go.”

  She sat at one of the metal tables and a few minutes later a door opened at the end of the room. Steve McCord walked in, wearing a gray, pin-stripe suit and tie.

  Erica stood up, walked up to him and gave him a hug. “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” she said.

  He hugged her back for a moment, then pulled away. “You smell like crap, Erica.”

  She laughed. “Thanks for noticing.”

  He laughed back, gave her another hug.

  It felt good to be in his arms. “Thanks for getting me out of here.”

  “What are ex-husbands for?”

  An hour later, the two of them were sitting in his apartment’s living room, sipping coffee. Erica had taken a long, hot shower, which had washed away the foul odor that had permeated her hair and body. Then she had thrown on some of Steve’s casual clothes, a polo shirt and a pair of shorts that were way too big for her, but would have to do.

  Sitting on the couch across from her, he said, “So. What are you going to do now?”

  “I finish my coffee.”

  “I meant after that, Erica.”

  “Well, let’s see. I no longer have a job. And I need to hire an attorney for when my assault charge goes to court. Other than that, things are peachy.”

  He shook his head. “This is no times for jokes.”

  “That’s the damn truth.”

  He leaned back in the seat, said, “I know a good criminal attorney, and if you need help financially, I can help.”

  She sipped more of the coffee. “Thanks. But I’ve got some money saved.”

  He nodded. “What are you going to do for employment?”

  “I’ll appeal the termination.”

  “And if that fails.…”

  “Jesus,” she said sarcastically, “don’t be such an optimist.”

  “Sorry. I just know if the deputy director approved it, it’s going to be tough.”

  “I know.”

  His face brightened. “Get out of government work. I hear the private security business is booming.”

  “I’ve now got a criminal record, Steve. Unless I get that thrown out, I won’t be able to do anything but be a mall cop.”

  He nodded, went quiet.

  “Got anything to drink besides coffee?” she asked.

  “I’ve got Heineken and Chivas. What’s your poison?”

  “I’ll take the scotch. I need the hard stuff. I want to fry my brain.”

  He shrugged. “You sure? You’ve been through a lot. Maybe you should stick to beer, so you can pace yourself.”

  “Get the damn scotch, will you? I’m in no mood for games.”

  ***

  Beijing, China

  General Chang terminated the secure call and turned off his computer. Then he stood up and began to pace his office. His contact at the U.S. State Department had just given him some stunning news regarding a pending deal the Americans were planning with the Swiss.

  He had dealt with the woman for years and knew her information had been reliable in the past. If this deal went through, it was a game changer. His own position would be superfluous. As it was, the premier had already told him his life was at stake.

  He stopped pacing and sat back down at his desk. Trying to sort through the implications, he came up with several scenarios. The deal apparently depended on what the new president, Tayl
or, decided. The odious man had yet to return his calls.

  Chang decided he would not share this latest information with the premier. At least not yet. He had to be sure.

  ***

  The Oval Office

  The White House

  Washington, D.C.

  President Taylor was signing Executive Orders when his intercom buzzed. “General Corvan is here,” he heard Alice say over the speaker.

  “Show him in,” he replied, and put aside the orders.

  Corvan came in, nodded and sat down in front of the desk.

  “How are things, General?”

  “Proceeding as planned, Mr. President.”

  Taylor ran a hand over his bald head. “Watched the news a little while ago – the anti-Chinese demonstrations are widespread. Still going strong in our mayor cities.”

  Corvan smiled. “Yes, sir.”

  “I’d like to ratchet it up a notch – let’s go ahead with the next phase of the operation.”

  “Yes, Mr. President. I’ll notify Garcia.”

  “Good. What else is happening?”

  “Sir, Senator Lewis keeps calling. Like I told you before, she wants a meeting, says it’s urgent.”

  Taylor’s face scrunched up as if he’d swallowed a sour lemon. “That bitch. When I was VP, she couldn’t stand to look at me, but now….”

  “Yes, sir. I understand. But she’s an influential senator, has a lot of friends on Capitol Hill.”

  Taylor rubbed his jaw, went quiet. After a time he said, “Okay. Set it up for later today. I guess if I want to get elected next year, I need all the friends I can get.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  ***

  Senator Megan Lewis was shown into the Oval Office by the president’s assistant.

  “The president will be right with you, Senator,” Alice said. “Please have a seat.”

  Alice left the room and Lewis took a chair in front of the large wooden desk.

  Glancing around the beautifully appointed Oval Office, Megan once again admired the historical details of the place. Many have held this office, she thought, and one day, God willing, I will too.