White House, Oval Office
Tell
me what you know," President McKinsey says.
"Marsha was found early this morning dead, a single stab wound through her stomach," Petroff states.
"Has the media been alerted yet?"
"Nothing official has been released. Senator Rustlin is using the situation to his advantage," Petroff says grimly.
"Damage control?"
"Working on it sir. It's not looking good."
"I know," McKinsey pauses, letting out a breath. "We can't deny the senator's accusations and we can't support them either. No matter what stand we take, we're going to get support or none at all."
"If whoever is behind this attack can get to Marsha, then we don't know who else is in danger."
"Exactly Andy. I want the entire white house staff under observation of the Secret Service."
"That will put a strain on them and they may not be able to cover everyone," Andy says, his voice distressed.
"Right now I don't care," McKinsey says.
"We also have a situation Dave. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but China has made its move further into Africa."
The President peers up from his desk as dread washes over his face. "Just China?" he asks.
"Yes sir. Intel reports the Russian front is still settled on Madagascar with the fleet close by. Their presence in Lesotho also remains," Andy reports.
"Any reports coming out from the area?" McKinsey's question is a two sided coin; has communications from any military personnel or Sam come out of the area.
"Just basic chatter from our assets. The only disruption so far is the movement by the Chinese." Almost as an afterthought he says, "There apparently were two incidents over the weekend. Intel chalked them up to be nonessential."
"Go on," McKinsey prods.
"A Russian ship, the
Gidra,
suffered an explosion in the middle of the Indian Ocean. Since we didn't have any assets in the water at the coordinates, Intel affirmed it to engine malfunction. Ground assets in Madagascar reported a man, possibly a prisoner, being released. Then a few hours later, two women, both in tactical gear and non-Russian, left the same way."
"Let me guess," McKinsey says, "not ours."
"That's correct," Andy says with a knowing smile.
McKinsey returns the smile. "Good work Andy. Get the situation with the press contained and controlled."
"Right on it."
ββ
Sam
and the mystery woman spent the previous night traveling first by boat then by car. Sam asked several times who she was and for some sort of explanation for what had transpired. All she received from the woman was her name, Julie Branon.
Eventually, after not getting any more information, Sam gave up and rested. She wasn't able to get much sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, images of Spencer either being tortured or killed appeared.
They were now in Singapore with the trip coming to a close as they pull into a large gate. Beyond the gate lies a long paved road with a chateau at the end. The road leads into a driveway that takes the shape of a crescent in front of the house. They pull in, coming to a halt next to the stairs that lead to the front door.
"Welcome to ChΓ’teau d'espoir. That man will explain everything," Julie says pointing to the man that appears at the top of the stairs.
Sam unstraps her seat belt and exits the car.
"What the hell is going on here?" Sam asks berating the man before he even has a chance to speak.
"Nice to meet you too, Miss Roberts."
"What?"
"Please, come inside we have much to discuss and I have someone here that is as eager as you to see."
The man extends his hand out to Sam. He stands less than six feet tall with short cropped dark hair. He wears a simple pair of blue jeans and white shirt that makes Sam wonder if this was his house or someone else's entirely. Without another word, she accepts his hand and follows him into the house. Julie follows close behind keeping to herself. If it unnerved Sam any, she didn't show it.
They step into the foyer and Sam is astonished by the chateau's beauty. Her eyes quickly fall to a figure walking out of the living area. "Spence!" she yells running into his arms. Joy fills her at being able to touch and hold him after so long. After a long, intimate kiss, she pulls away and looks deep into his eyes. "I love you, Spence," she says low enough so that only he could hear.
"I know. You were my light that kept me going the last couple months," Spencer replies, once again kissing her, taking in her scent and taste. It lasts for about a minute, before their host gives a small
cough
.
"I'm sorry," Sam says, slightly blushing as they brake off from each other.
"It's quite okay. Both you have been through an ordeal, but now it's time to get both of your questions answered. Please have a seat," the man says gesturing to the couch Spencer was sitting at before the trio entered. "Care for a drink Sam?"
Sam bites her bottom lip. "Got any vodka?"
"Sure thing. Julie, fix up Sam vodka and me as well, please."
With a nod Julie walks to the bar and gets to work. Sam sits next to Spencer as he holds her close. Usually in a professional meeting such as this, they would keep professional, but these were different circumstances.
Nobody says anything until Julie joins the group with the drinks. Without wasting any time, Sam chugs the drink down in one breath. She sets the drink down on the table with a sigh and then looks straight at their host. She bares a look of expectance on her face.
"First let me tell you a little about who I am and what I represent."
"I'm all ears," Sam says, settling back into Spencer, knowing this was going to be a long explanation.
"My name is Martin Sternigan and I currently represent the
Black List
."
"By represent, you mean
leader
?" Sam interrupts. This logic runs through Spencer's head as well, but Sam beats him to the punch.
"Yes, that is correct. The
Black List
has been around for several thousands of years now, ever since its founder, Alexandros of Sparta, created it.
That