Carol Summer looked down at the Las Vegas strip through the window of the FBI’s Bell 412 helicopter with distaste. Not that she disapproved of Las Vegas; she’d just never enjoyed her time here. Last time was a particularly memorable experience for all the wrong reasons. She pushed her sunglasses up her nose as the Bellagio grew closer.
The pilot's voice crackled through her headphones, “The Bellagio, huh? Business or pleasure? Maybe a bit of both?”
Summer rolled her eyes and adjusted the foam mouthpiece in front of her lips. “Just try to land without killing us, Terry.”
Terry’s laugh was a low drawl that betrayed his having grown up in the South. “Well, alright, alright, alright,” he said. “I’ve got to head back to McCarren, but then I’m free as a bird. How about a drink later? You ever been to Ghost Donkey? I’ll tell you what, it’s the best damn margarita this side of the Sierra Nevada.”
“I’m working, Terry,” she said.
“Come on,” he said, as the helicopter swung over the Bellagio. “I’ll keep you out of trouble. Drinks, a few appetizers, and I’ll have you in bed by ten.”
“Oh yeah?” she said, “Whose bed?”
“Well,” he said, drawing out the syllable as he gently brought the helicopter over the helipad. “How about we play it by ear?”
Summer could see him looking out the window down at the helipad below, biting his tongue, as they slowly descended. She said, “You know, one of these days your wife is gonna find out you’ve been trying to charm all the ladies getting in and out of this thing. You’ll be sorry then.”
The helicopter touched town on the helipad, and Terry shook his head and laughed his slow southern drawl laugh. “I’m not scared of her. Come on, what d'ya say?” He looked over his shoulder to the back seat as Summer hung up her headphones.
“Bye,” she said, giving him a fake salute and sliding the door open so she could climb out.
Even over the roar of the blades above her head, she heard him call back, “You’re breaking my heart!”
Hair billowing in the torrent of air pounding her shoulders, she turned and waved to the cockpit. Terry smiled. She could almost swear there was a twinkle as his pearly whites flashed in the sun, and then he was taking off. She watched the helicopter swoop over the Bellagio and head back toward McCarren. She collected herself for a moment, smoothed out her hair and her blue FBI windbreaker. Then she turned to the elevator. The attendant already knew what floor she needed, and within a few moments, there was a light bing as the doors slid open.
“Which way is the presidential suite?” she said, turning back to the attendant. He graciously gave her directions, and she set off down a quiet, carpet-lined corridor. Her muffled footsteps and the gentle rustling of her windbreaker were the only sounds at first, but voices slowly grew. She rounded a corner and saw an open door further up the hall on the right. A bellhop was busy collecting luggage on a polished gold cart, and two agents wearing identical windbreakers to Summer’s came out of the room talking in low voices.
She nodded to them casually as they walked by, and she entered the room. The presidential suite was glamorous, to say the least. The high ceilings and giant windows looking out at the Las Vegas strip made it feel more like a luxury apartment than a hotel room. There was a fully stocked bar in the living room directly ahead of here, bottles stacked high against a mirrored back bar with glass shelves. The green glass bar top, the white low seating couches, and even the fake flowers on either side of the huge flat-screen TV playing the PGA tour highlights worked together to make the place look as though it belonged in a catalog.
There were more FBI agents around the room, talking on phones, taking notes on legal pads, and chatting together with their hands in their pockets. She scanned the faces looking for the director, Howard Kepler. After a few minutes, she found him standing by one of the big windows looking out at Vegas. He was adjusting his cufflinks and smoothing out his suit jacket. She weaved her way through the room until she came up behind him.
“Sir,” she said.
He turned as she approached. It only took him a moment to recognize her, to which he said, “Summer! Excellent to see you. Just excellent.” He extended a hand, and she shook it quickly.
“Sir, I want to go over-” She was cut off as a secretary held up a pile of papers and a pen. Howard Kepler accepted the pen with a gracious smile, and the secretary flipped through the papers indicating the places he should sign.
As he finished his last signature with a flourish, he said, “To what do I owe the pleasure, Agent Summer.” He thanked the secretary, and she closed the papers, retrieved her pen, and disappeared into the room of agents.
“Sir, I want to go over the file I sent earlier this morning with you.”
“Ah,” he said, wagging a finger as he moved away from the window. He put a hand on her shoulder and guided her towards the bar. “With the meeting this morning, I haven’t had a chance to go through it thoroughly, but from the gist of it, I’m pretty sure it has something to do with your assignment in San Diego?”
“Yes, sir. You see, Joanna-”
Kepler waved off her explanation and walked behind the bar. “In case you haven’t noticed, we have a few pressing matters to deal with.” He cobbled together a pair of rocks glasses and put them down on the bar top between them. “Drink?” he said.
“No,” she said in a flat voice. “Thank you, sir. I understand you must be busy-”
“You’re goddamn right I’m busy,” he said, pouring whiskey into a silver shaker. “It’s all hands-on deck right now. We only just finished handing out assignments. You should see the latest radar data. Man, Colonel Jacobs must have some wild tech off the coast of California. Rumor is that one went down last night. I bet he’s pissed. But we’ve finally got everything coordinated between the Navy and the CIA, so I’m clocked out. If you have a problem with your assignment, I’m sure it can wait until after I get back from the Gala.”
“The Colonel lost an aircraft last night?” said Summer, in shock.
“Keep your voice down, will you? And it’s just a rumor. But the word coming out of Groom Lake is that the base is on Defcon Five.”
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
“Sir, if you’d just read through the file I sent you, you’d see Joanna coming here today can’t be a coincidence,” she said. “Her neighbor works at Area-51 and his house went up in flames last night.”
“It’s California. Fires happen all the time.”
“She is on her way to the Bellagio with the kid who lived in that house!” she said, talking fast before he could cut her off again. “And you’re telling me that the Colonel lost a craft over the ocean last night?”
“You know,” said Kepler, seeming not to hear her. “My wife put me onto these. Absolute best thing.” He pulled out freshly cut limes from the small fridge under the back bar with a delighted expression. “Unbelievable! They spare no expense here.” He squeezed lime juice into the shaker and eyeballed a half ounce of clear simple syrup. “Just a touch, don’t you think? Not too sweet.”
Summer took a deep breath through her nose and said, “All of the most powerful people in the country will be here today.”
“Summer, do you have a point you’re trying to make?” said Kepler, looking at her seriously for the first time. He didn’t give her a chance to respond. “Listen, don’t you think we’ve considered every possibility? Gone over all the variables? You forget that the FBI is full of agents just as smart as you, who don’t have a grudge against Joanna Jones. And before you start sharing all your theories about how and why and when Joanna will do whatever it is you think she’ll do, ask yourself; what does she have to gain?”
“I don’t know, sir. But-”
“The answer is nothing,” said Kepler. “She’s a retired CIA operative, whose golden parachute included the keys to a CIA safe house that just so happens to be right next door to a man who works at Groom Lake. The government owns half that goddamn street! She is probably neighbors with more than one family privy to some of the government's deepest darkest secrets. Any connection you think you see, any plot you suspect, or any ideas you have about foul play are a figment of your imagination. We still don’t have the full picture of what happened last night over the pacific. We’re considering every possibility.”
“My point is that we need to take her seriously,” she said. “She has stolen government tech before. What if she’s trying to do that again? With everything going on this weekend, maybe she is trying to get access to Groom Lake somehow. We’ve underestimated her before and-”
He held up his hand to silence her. “You’ve underestimated her before. I appreciate your diligence, but we have this under control.” He uncapped the silver shaker in his hands. Condensation covered the sides now that he’d been holding onto it for so long. “Summer, you’re a great agent. One of the best I’ve worked with. But you’re way off base here. And I would appreciate it if you would not infer that me and my team are ignorant of what is going on. We know Joanna is here. We know she has the kid with her. I’m afraid, it’s you who doesn’t know what’s going on.”
He poured the amber liquid from the shaker into the two glasses in front of him through the strainer cap and pulled a can of ginger beer from under the bar. He snapped the can open with one hand while he scooped ice into the two glasses with the other. “You know, I was a bartender while I was in college. I miss those days sometimes.” He poured ginger beer over the ice and whiskey concoction. A gentle hiss coupled with the ice cracking and shifting in the glasses filled the silence for a moment.
“The operators at Groom Lake informed us that they had several unmanned aircraft running drills off the coast of California last night. These crafts are the product of a top-secret government weapons program, and the plan is to unveil the new tech tomorrow night during the Gala. All of - how did you put it? - ‘the most powerful people in the country,’ will be attending the Gala and will view a briefing and demonstration of the new tech. Right now, Jacobs has reported a malfunction that led to their losing communication with one of the unmanned crafts. The fact that two destroyers are doing laps around Catalina Island right now leads me to believe they must have lost one in the ocean, but that’s neither here nor there.”
He paused as if wondering how much was wise to divulge. He seemed to decide Summer was better off knowing, so he continued by saying, “Foul play has not been ruled out. That being said, your friend Joanna has nothing to do with what happened last night. The word from Groom Lake is that, barring a malfunction, the only way to take the craft off course was through remote access. Right now, they're investigating all the people who might have that ability. Joanna is not one of them.”
“Sir, she is up to something!” Summer hissed, unable to stop from clenching her teeth. “Maybe it has nothing to do with the crashed aircraft, but there is just too much evidence to the fact that she-”
Summer stopped because of the look Howard Kepler gave her. When she fell silent, he rubbed a lime wedge around the rim of each glass and dropped them on top of the ice. Picking up the two glasses, he walked around the bar to stand in front of her again, saying, “This Joanna person might be pretty famous in the CIA. And she might have done some incredible things in the past, but I’m telling you, there is nothing to worry about. And if you’re worried about her being near so many powerful people, remember, none of them will be here in a few hours. The JANET flight to Groom Lake leaves at four o’clock. Once they board, they’ll be completely safe. It would take a miracle for her to get an invite to Groom Lake. So, you have nothing to worry about, right?”
He held out the second glass for her, and, after hesitating a moment, Summer took it. He held up his own glass in a salute and took a sip. “Ah,” he said, smacking his lips. “Not bad.” Summer frowned at her own glass, still fuming on the inside.
“We’re talking about the most top-secret military base on earth, Summer,” said Kepler, recognizing the defiance in her eyes. “How about this; let’s say you are right, and that Joanna does have some ulterior motive and wants to get access to the base somehow. Even if she knows every in and out across the whole base, knows exactly where to go to find whatever it is she wants, she’ll never be able to get within 50 miles of the place. Not without getting shot. I hear things are pretty tense out there right now, so the patrols might be a little more trigger-happy than usual. And even if she did get on the base and she did manage to do whatever it is you think she wants to do, there’s no way on God’s green Earth that she’d ever be able to get out again.”
He took another swig of his drink and said, “We’re talking about anti-aircraft missiles, an entire wing of F-22s with pilots itching to blow the hell out of something flying over the salt flats after flying around in circles for so long. And who knows what else they have! Don’t worry about it. Relax. You’re a great agent, Summer. One of the best. But for God’s sake, take a break. You take things way too seriously. I mean, look at you; why are you wearing your sunglasses in here? You look so uptight. It makes people uncomfortable.”
Summer put her glass down on the bar, took off her sunglasses, and slid them into the pocket of her jacket.
“You requested the detail on Joanna, correct?” said Howard, taking another sip of his drink.
“Yes, sir,” she said.
“Why?”
She glared at him and then said, “Because I know her, sir. When she retired, she got all the honors and medals and commendations, and the CIA gave her money and houses and whatever else she wanted. But there’s no way she will just-” Summer waved her arms, trying to find the words. “Just retire! It’s like everyone wants to shove her under the carpet and forget she ever existed! She’s dangerous. People like her don’t just retire. She’s itching to get out there again, I know it!”
“Take a break,” said Kepler, picking up her glass from the bar. “Take a week off. I’ll inform the San Diego office. Get that idiot husband of yours to meet you out here and just blow off some steam! As for Joanna, forget about her. Did it even occur to you that she might be here on vacation? It’s Vegas. That’s what people do! I suggest that you do the same.” He handed her back the glass, clinked his own against it, and drained his drink. “I don’t want to hear another word about it,” he said. “Now get the hell out of here. There is one JANET flight leaving McCarren today, and my wife and I have to be ready.” He set his glass on the bar and moved away.
“Sir,” said Summer.
But he just waved without looking back and called, “The only way your friend Joanna is getting onto Groom Lake is with an invitation to the Gala. And just trust me, that’s not gonna happen. Enjoy your vacation, Summer.”
And with that, he was gone. Summer stood there for a moment, glaring at his back. Then she drained the glass in her hand and slammed it on the bar. “God dammit,” she said under her breath, wiping her lip with the back of her hand. “That’s really good.”