As twilight deepened, it grew quiet, but Mai’s eyes took in everything. The scenery was beautiful, but she looked out for any danger. Even after retirement, Alexei would still do that when faced with a new situation. No, he’d done it when he went to the grocery store. She’d noticed it had diminished over the years, but she doubted she could ever give up being vigilant.
They’d left any boat traffic behind at the marina, and no kayakers disturbed the glassy water. An onshore breeze rustled the marsh grass, and the President of the United States stopped and watched in wonder after their passage prompted a great blue heron to flight.
“It’s quite beautiful,” Mai said. “I can see why you’ve come here every summer.”
“The Secret Service loves it. It’s small, the tourists come and go on the ferry, but the locals fucking hate us.”
“I think that’s a New England trait. They don’t mind the influx of money, but they abhor summer people.”
Ibori shoved his hands in his pockets and looked out over the water, his expression grim. “When I’ve gone downtown, I’ve been called a lot worse than ‘summer people.’”
“This area of the country likes to think because they had no slaves they get the apex of the moral high ground, and they’ll never admit they’re as prejudiced as anyone else. I’m certain I’m not here to discuss the state of race relations in New England.”
Ibori smiled and said, “No, you’re not. I’ll even give you the first word about why you refused the protocol.”
“In my career as an operative and as a director of covert operations, I’ve crossed many lines, most of the time for the good. The ones I shouldn’t have crossed I regretted, then and now.”
“Is it because The Directorate has never meddled in an election before?”
“I didn’t say that, and, no, I won’t tell you which ones. There are no rules against our becoming involved in the U.S. elections, but no president has ever asked that of us.”
“Not even Nixon?”
“No. He wanted us to infiltrate the Civil Rights movement, and that Director, though a dinosaur himself, refused on principle.”
“What’s the principle you’re standing fast on?”
Mai took in the beauty around her and sighed. “It’s not a principle. It’s my intuition. My gut tells me it’s not something The Directorate should do.”
“I’m not asking you to manufacture something on Harlan,” Ibori said, his lips thin and tight. “I want you to prove something we’re reasonably certain is true.”
“I understand that, but I think this should play out without interference from me. Or you.”
“Who are you to decide that?”
“A disinterested, neutral third party.”
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