First Lie Wins

I sit in the same chair across from his desk that I did two years ago.

He looks like he hasn’t slept since Friday. Since the last time we spoke. Since the last time he could see the video feed he had set up. Right before I cut it.

“My girl looked for Andrew all fucking weekend! Even went and knocked on his door! And where did you disappear to? You pulled a fucking Houdini on this job!” His face is red and bits of spit are flying from his mouth.

I take my time answering him. “Your plan was stupid. I improved it.”

He grits his teeth and his eyes scan me at a frantic pace. “What does that mean?” he finally asks.

“Get Mr. Smith on the phone,” I say. And now he looks like he wants to murder me.

Matt comes around to the front of his desk and stands over me. He leans down, putting his hands on the arms of my chair to box me in. “You answer to me,” he says.

“No, I don’t. Not anymore.” I raise my arm and look at my watch. “You have five minutes or I walk. And you don’t want me to walk.”

I’m playing a very dangerous game, but I have to go with my gut. It never lets me down.

We stare at each other for a long, tense moment.

Something happened to me when I took over that job and made it my own. And I’m not going back to how it was before.

“Four minutes.”

He shoves off my chair so hard that I’m in danger of toppling backward. I kick my feet out to regain my balance. He picks up his phone. Turning his back to me, he talks quietly to Mr. Smith.

A few seconds later, he’s spinning around with the phone on speaker.

“Talk,” Matt says.

Silence on the other end, but I don’t let that stop me. “Andrew Marshall is a bust. He was never going to cheat on his wife. He’s too squeaky clean. And if you forced something, the shame of it would have made him drop out of the race completely. It doesn’t do you any good to have dirt on someone who isn’t powerful. Ten minutes with this guy and you’d have known that.”

Matt’s eyes bore into me while I let Mr. Smith’s silence fill the room.

“But I got you something better. Senator Nelson. He’s held his seat in Georgia for eighteen years. He’s on all the good committees. He loves God, his wife, his country. He also loves to have his ass spanked while wearing a ball gag. He’s all yours. Just tell me where to send the flash drive.”

It’s clear I’m cutting Matt out by not giving it to him to pass along. What I don’t add is Andrew Marshall is mine now. He will be governor soon, and he realizes just how close he came to being owned while also understanding who saved him from that.

I watch Matt and Matt watches the phone. There is a film of sweat popping out on his forehead.

That conversation with Andrew was hard. When he woke up the next morning still on the balcony, he had questions. And I answered them all. Vigilant. That’s what he has to be going forward. No blind trust even if that person proves to be trustworthy. That’s a hard lesson to learn. He thanked me, then offered to help me in any way he could to leave this life. To live a life filled with honor, not with crime. Because that’s who Andrew Marshall is.

I hugged him and thanked him and promptly left him.

I also know if I ever need him—really need him—he will be there for me.

When it doesn’t seem like Mr. Smith will be speaking to me today, I continue. “You may not like I changed the job, and the results may not be the ones you were hoping for, but Matt’s plan would have failed. And Senator Nelson is better than a failed plan and wasted resources. If you would like to continue to engage my services, I deal directly with you. Not Matt. I’m good at what I do. Better than him. And you know it.”

Silence.

Matt is furious. A deep, red flush is creeping up his neck, and his jaw is clenched tight.

Finally, Mr. Smith speaks. “Matt, give Lucca your phone then go wait in the hall. Lucca, once he’s gone, shut the door and take me off speaker.”

Matt’s eyes look like they will bulge right out of his head. He leaves the office, slamming the door behind him.

I pick up the phone and hit the button to make the call private.

“I’m here,” I say.

“I was told there was quite an event in Andrew Marshall’s suite on Friday night.”

I don’t hesitate. “Yes. I invited some big hitters up for a cocktail party once I realized what Matt had planned. I knew if I couldn’t get the dirt on Andrew, I better get it on someone else equally or more important.”

Silence.

And then finally, more questions. “Where was Andrew Marshall during this party? If you have what you say you have, was he a witness to the senator’s behavior?”

“I knocked Andrew out and put him on the lounger on the balcony. Senator Nelson took one of the girls back to his room, and that’s where the event between them took place.”

Silence again. The wait between his questions and my answers is unnerving, which I’m sure is the point.

“Matt’s instructions were delivered to you at four thirty in the afternoon, and you sent out invites for the cocktail gathering in Marshall’s room at five forty-five. How were you able to find the tech and personnel to pull this off in such a short amount of time? Or were you already planning to go rogue before you were given your instructions?”

Assuming he was going to just take what I was giving him was naive.

“As you’ve said before, I am resourceful and think on my feet. This is just another example of that. I did not go into the weekend believing I would have to alter the plan, but it would have been unprofessional not to have been prepared for any eventuality. It was clear when I got the instructions that Matt had taken the lead on this job. It was sloppy and amateurish.”

“And I’m to believe you walked away from the weekend with absolutely nothing on Marshall? That you in fact have not uncovered a single thing in all the time you’ve been with him that can be used as leverage against him?”

“That is the truth. He’s as squeaky as they come.”

I can tell he doesn’t believe me. After a minute, I check the phone to see if we’re still connected.

“While Senator Nelson will be helpful, he wasn’t who we sent you after, but I can acknowledge and appreciate salvaging a job,” he says. “Moving forward, you’ll answer directly to me. We’ll see how that works for us. For now. You are quite the surprise. Let’s just see if it is a good one or bad one.”

I ignore the ominousness of that last part. “My pay will reflect my new position, correct?”

I don’t expect the chuckle. “You don’t mind pushing me, do you?”

“Would you respect me if I didn’t?”

He ignores my question. “Let’s see if you’re as good as you think you are. There is a situation in Florida you could help with. A sleepy little college town with lots of money. I need you to go there.”

“No problem,” I say, without hesitation. Even though I don’t know what the job is, I know this is my one shot to prove I deserve leveling up.

“Go to the Holiday Inn Express near the airport. Check in under your current alias and wait for further instructions.”

And then the line does go dead.

“I’m finished talking to him,” I yell at the closed door, and Matt is pushing it open seconds later, jerking his phone from my hand.

“You’re going to regret this,” he says.

I shrug, then take the tiny paper swan out of my pocket, dropping it on the corner of his desk.

“What the fuck is that?”

“Something to remember me by,” I say as I head to the door.

At the same moment I’m walking out of this building, there are small white boxes being delivered to multiple locations. In each box is an origami swan similar to what I just gave Matt. When the swan is pulled open, there’s a picture showing the recipient in a very compromising position, with the words “Hilton Head 2017” written underneath it in red Sharpie. And that’s it.

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