out over his skis on this. Watson’s call was probably nothing.
Probably.
* * *
—
Fung approached Watson’s desk.
She was on the phone. He made a gesture that he could come back later. She scrunched up her face and shook her head, indicating the call wasn’t sensitive and motioning for him to grab a seat.
Fung fell into one of the springy plywood laminate chairs in front of her desk. Her corner-office view was something to die for. Of course she had the corner office. She was Dahm’s favorite, wasn’t she?
Fuck her. She was too stupid to know she had given him the keys to the IC Cloud, or, at least, a part of it, by showing him how to access the CIA comms satellite.
His eyes drifted to the framed photos on the wall behind her. Most were of Watson and the celebrity actors, musicians, and politicians who joined her, hammers and saws in hand, framing houses for disabled and homeless veterans in the Homes for Heroes charity she founded in honor of her dead brother, killed in some stupid war.
The most prominent photo was of Watson, Senator Dixon, and Aaron Gage smiling broadly for the camera, each in hard hats and safety glasses. The Dixon-Gage Charitable Trust was the biggest donor to Homes for Heroes, and Watson never let anyone forget about it. It was priceless publicity for her and for them. Hell, he wasn’t stupid. He’d even contributed to Watson’s charity. Office politics, and all of that.
There was also a framed American flag on the wall, presented to her by a local chapter of the Disabled American Veterans, with a plaque indicating it had once flown over the USS Arizona.
The wall also featured a case of her brother’s military patches, medals, and ribbons next to another picture of her brother in an Army uniform.
Good-looking guy. What a waste, Fung thought.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Watson said, hanging up the phone. “Thanks for coming.”
“No problem. What’s up?”
“First of all, how is your father doing on the chemo?”
A jolt of anger shot through Fung. He hoped it didn’t show. His father had insisted on an experimental cancer treatment that wasn’t covered by his health insurance. Naturally, he expected his dutiful son to cover it. That, and the Hawaiian cruise his parents were taking next month.
“He’s good.”
“If you don’t mind my saying, your reaction says otherwise. Anything I can do to help?”
“Only if you can convince my father to quit smoking. He keeps bribing his home health aides to sneak in packs of Newports. I’ve had to fire two already.”
“Parents,” Watson said, shaking her head. “Hard to train them. Even harder to pick them. Sorry about that.” She took a sip of herbal tea from a Homes for Heroes–branded cup she kept on her desk.
“Comes with the territory.”
“And how’s Torré?”
Fung brightened. “I spoke to him just last night. Everything’s going great. Three more months of HRT until he can get his surgery.”
“That’s wonderful. I’m very excited for both of you.”
“Anything to make him happy. I just wish he wasn’t so far away. But Thailand really is the best option for him.”
Watson leaned forward on her desk. “You’re a very generous person, aren’t you?”
Fung pointed at the picture wall. “It’s why we’re all here, isn’t it?”
Watson smiled, leaning back. “Yes, I suppose so. I could still learn a lot from you.”
“Look who’s talking. Someday you’ll have to show me how to set up my own foundation.”
“Sure, anytime.” She reached over to her purse and pulled out a business card. “Scott Shelby is a JD and a CPA. He did all the paperwork for Homes for Heroes. He’s the perfect guy to talk to.”
Fung studied the card politely before saying “Thanks” and pocketing it.
So far, so good.
“I never did hear how your meeting in D.C. went,” Fung said.
“Oh, fine. Great, really. The IC Cloud is airtight and running like a Swiss watch. Which is why I wanted to talk to you today.”
Here it is.
“About what, exactly?”
“About IC security. It’s too damn good.”
“And that’s a problem?”
“It is. For them as well as for us.”
“Why for them?”
“I got the sense that some of those department heads are getting a little too complacent. They need to remember they’re as responsible as we are for their own security.”
“Makes sense. But how does that affect us?”
“If Foley and the department heads ever come to believe they’re invulnerable, they won’t see a need to keep us around anymore. At least, not for security. And I don’t need to remind you that our highest