CHAPTER
50
ROBIE SPENT AN HOUR with Vance going over the ATF findings and then he slipped away and made a call to Blue Man.
“Her name is Diane Jordison.” Robie described her. “She’ll be hanging around the area where the bus detonated. She was very helpful and I think she might be more helpful down the road. But she needs to get off the streets. Too risky otherwise.”
Blue Man said he would take care of it and Robie had to trust that he would. At least for now. He planned to check on that later. At the end of the day Robie could not trust anyone.
“I also want you to run down whatever you can find on a Leo Broome. Works somewhere on Capitol Hill.”
“How does he figure into this?” asked Blue Man.
“I don’t know if he does. But I have to cover that angle.”
“That briefing, Robie. I want it soon.”
Blue Man clicked off.
I want a lot of things, thought Robie. I want a way out of this nightmare.
An hour later he was back at his apartment. He took a shower and changed his clothes. He put his gun in a belt holster centered on his back and climbed in the Volvo, then texted Julie and received a response a few seconds later confirming that she was okay. He sent her another text saying he would be by to see her later and would probably stay at the apartment with her tonight.
He drove across town and pulled into a parking garage around the corner from the Old Ebbitt Grill, a Washington landmark that sat facing the east side of the Treasury building, which was located next to the White House. He snagged a space near the entrance.
Robie was here to keep his eight o’clock drink date with Annie Lambert. He entered the W Hotel and rode the elevator up to the rooftop outdoor bar, which was actually covered. Up here one could enjoy views from the White House all the way up to Arlington Cemetery in Virginia.
It was a weeknight so the tables weren’t full, but there were about twenty people cradling drinks, munching snacks, and ordering off the bar menu. Robie glanced around but did not see Lambert. He checked his watch. He was about two minutes early.
He took a seat at a table next to the railings and gazed out over the cityscape. The buildings here were impressive. Anyone would think so. Well, probably not the people who were doing their best to blow them up. The waiter came over and Robie ordered a ginger ale. He sipped on it and constantly checked the door into the bar. On his fifth rotation he glanced at his watch. Fifteen after. Lambert might turn out to be a no-show. She might have wanted to call him, but he hadn’t given her his number and he didn’t have hers. Maybe late duties at the White House had interrupted her plans.
He was about to get up when she walked in, spotted him, and rushed over.
“I am so sorry,” she said. She draped her coat over the back of the chair and sat down, setting her bag next to her. She had kept on her heels, he noted. Her sneakers were probably in the bag. Her hair was down around her shoulders and proved to be an attractive backdrop for her long neck.
“You fast walked over?”
“How’d you know?” she gasped.
“You wouldn’t ride your bike with heels on, and you’re pretty breathless for a short walk followed by an elevator ride.”
She laughed. “Good deductions. Yeah, I left my bike at work and ran over. I got caught up in something right at five to eight. Had to get it done. And I did.”
“Then that deserves a reward.”
Robie waved the waiter over and Lambert ordered a vodka tonic. The waiter brought it back, along with a bowl of nuts and pretzels, and set it down between them.
Robie bit into a nut and took a swallow of his drink. Lambert sipped her cocktail and snagged a handful of the snack mix and gobbled it down.
“Hungry?”
“No time for lunch today,” she explained. “Or breakfast either, actually.”
“You want to order off the menu?”
She ordered a cheeseburger and fries while he went with some spring rolls.
“My diet is not the healthiest in the world,” she said. “Sort of an occupational hazard.”
Robie settled farther back in his chair and prepared himself to engage in small talk. He had wanted to have a drink with Lambert. But now that he was here with her, it seemed crazy given all that he was confronting right now.
I can’t be normal, no matter how much I want to be.
“I can understand that. You do much traveling in your job?” he said, trying to sound excited to hear her answer.
“No. I’m not officially high enough in the pecking order to ever be considered for a ride on Air Force One or even in any of the secondary planes. But I’m working hard and making a name for myself, and maybe one day, who knows, right?”
“Right. So you enjoy politics?”
“I enjoy policy,” she replied. “I don’t really get into the campaigning or election stuff. Energy is my specialty and I do white papers and briefing documents and I help write speeches for the administration in those areas.”
“So energy is your background?”
“My undergraduate degree is in engineering. I have a Ph.D. in biochemistry with an emphasis on renewable energy resources. And we are running out of the fossil fuel stuff. Not to mention wreaking great harm through climate change.”
Robie grinned.
“What?” she asked.
“Now you sound like a politician.”
She laughed. “I guess the place rubs off on you.”
“I guess it does.”
Their food came and she bit eagerly into her burger and followed that up with several fries awash in ketchup.
Robie put duck sauce on one of his spring rolls and bit into it.
“So what about you?” asked Lambert. “You said investments and that you worked on your own.”
“Actually, right now I’m doing as little as possible.”
“You don’t strike me as that sort. You seem way too intense to just sit around.”
“I don’t just sit around. I’ve traveled quite a bit, done some interesting work, made enough to take some time off, and that’s what I’m doing now. As little as possible. But at some point that will end. You’re right, I am too intense.”
“Sounds nice, though. Just enjoying life.”
“It can be. Or it can be really boring.”
“I wouldn’t mind trying it at some point.”
“I hope you can.”
She said, “How’d you end up in D.C.? Or are you from here?”
“I haven’t met many people who are from D.C. I came from the Midwest. How about you?”
“Connecticut. My parents were from England. I’m actually adopted. Only child.”
“You don’t have an accent.”
“I only lived in England until I was five. Now the only accent I have is a New England one, and not much of that, actually. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“No, just me. Wouldn’t have minded some siblings.”
“But kids don’t really have any say in the matter.”
“You sound like you wanted some brothers and sisters too,” said Robie. He glanced over her shoulder after he heard a siren.
She looked at him resignedly. “It feels like we’re just going through the motions, doesn’t it?”
Robie didn’t process this right away. When he finally did he looked at her. “What?” he said.
“Look, I know you said you wanted to get out more, and it was nice to have a drink together. But I’m not sure you’re really here. If you know what I mean.” She bit into a fry and looked down. She continued, “I mean, I’m just a policy geek. I’ll never make much money. I’ll spend my life at a desk writing well-researched papers that no one will ever read. And even if they do they’ll spin them in ways I never intended. You’ve made a lot of money, probably traveled the world. I must seem pretty boring to you.” She nervously picked up another fry but didn’t eat it. She just stared at it like she wasn’t sure what it was.
Robie hunched forward, coming out of his protective shell in more ways than one. He took the fry from her and bit it in half.
“I wanted to have a drink with you. If I didn’t want to I wouldn’t. And if I was going through the motions I apologize. I really do. I don’t find you boring.”
She smiled. “Did you like the fry?”
“Yeah. You want some of my spring roll?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
As they ate from each other’s plates she said, “You probably don’t usually eat fatty foods. I’ve seen you work out, of course. Do you run too?”
“Only when someone is chasing me.”
She laughed. “My metabolism must be really high. I eat crap and never gain an ounce.”
“A lot of people would like to have that problem.”
“I know. Some of the women I work with say that too.” She held out her burger. “Would you like a bite? It’s really good.”
He took a bite of the sandwich and wiped his mouth with his napkin. When he finished chewing he said, “I guess being at the White House is long hours, little exercise, eat when you can, and crazy schedules.”
“Did you ever work there? Because you’ve summed it up pretty well.”
“I don’t think I’m White House material. Best and the brightest, you know.”
“At least half the country would disagree with you on that.”
Robie smiled and watched her munch away on her fries. He took in the view of the city.
Lambert followed his gaze and said, “Even though I work there it’s still weird to see the snipers on the roof of the White House.”
“Countersnipers,” said Robie automatically and then regretted the slip. He smiled. “I watch a lot of NCIS. That’s where I learned that word.”
“I DVR it,” said Lambert. “Great show.”
They lapsed into silence again.
Robie finally broke it. “I’m sorry I’m not a good conversationalist. Has nothing to do with intent. Just tends to ebb and flow.”
“Neither am I, so maybe we’re very compatible.”
“Maybe we are,” said Robie. But now he found himself really wanting to talk. He looked out again, toward Arlington Cemetery on the Virginia side, up a hill. “When the Union took over Robert E. Lee’s land and turned it into a military burial ground, they said General Lee could have his property back if he paid the back taxes. But the catch was he had to pay them in person. He understandably never took Lincoln up on his offer.”
“I never heard that one.”
“Don’t know if it’s true or not, but it’s a good story.”
“And you just disproved your point. You are a good conversationalist.”
“I guess I have my moments.”
“Do you like the investment business?”
“I used to,” he answered. “But after a while simply making money doesn’t seem like enough. More to life, you know.”
“There’s always more to life than money, Will,” she said. “Money is just a means to an end. It shouldn’t be the goal.”
“For a lot of people it is.”
“And there are a lot of people with screwed-up priorities. Especially in this town.”
“Politician again,” he said, making her face flush. “Want me to be your campaign manager?”
“Yeah. I can run on a platform of caring for others more than you care for yourself. That’ll go over really big with the powers that be.”
“Hey, screw them. Take your message to the people.”
He watched her as she finished her meal. “So, really, what’s next for you after the White House?”
She shrugged. “Just about everybody there has his life planned out forty years. They know exactly what they want and how to get it. Overachievers, I guess.”
“Over-something,” replied Robie. He was thinking about Julie’s similar answer when talking about the future.
Lambert added, “And when you work at the White House you’re really dedicating your life to someone else, the president you serve. Your whole identity is connected to the success of someone else.”
“Must be tough living your life that way.”
“Frankly, I never thought I’d ever get this far.”
“You must have done something right. Ivy League? Connections?”
“Guilty on both counts. My parents are pretty well-off and they’re active politically, so I know they pulled strings to get me here.”
“I think to get to the big white house you have to do it mostly on your own, because everybody at that level has strings to pull.”
“Thanks for saying that. It’s not usually what I hear.” She pressed her napkin against her lips and studied him. “So what’s next for you?”
“Maybe a change in direction. I’ve been doing the same thing too long.”
“Change is good.”
“Maybe. And maybe we can talk about it some more another time.”
She beamed. “Are you asking me out?”
“Is there an interim step I missed? Can’t go from drinks to date?”
“That’s okay in my rulebook,” she said quickly.
Later, when the check came, Robie picked it up despite her protests. “It’ll equal out,” he said. This comment made her smile.
He walked her back to the White House. She’d explained that she needed to finish up a few things and retrieve her bike. Along the way Lambert slipped her arm through his.
When they arrived at the gate she held out a card. “All my relevant info is on here, including my desk at the White House.”
Robie took the card. “Thanks.”
“Is there a way I can get in touch with you?”
Robie gave her his cell phone number, which she inputted to her phone.
She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks for a really nice time, Will. And let’s work on that ‘date’ thing together.”
“Count on it,” said Robie.
A few moments later she had hurried through the White House gate.
Robie walked off, trying to put aside their encounter yet feeling the warmth of her lips on his face.
It was strange days indeed.