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“Davis?”
“God fuckin’ bless America, Dimitri. What the hell have you done to my budget? Oh, you think you’re going to have a job left after you fuckin’ charged a twenty-five-thousand-dollar yacht excursion on your credit card? Are you fuckin’ kidding me? Your ass is toast—”
The acoustics in the room were perfect. Even Byron was stifling a snicker. The men behind Francone spoke softly amongst themselves.
“Uh, listen, Davis. Now is not a good time. I need a favor from you, if you don’t mind.”
He held the phone away from his ear a foot, waiting for the barrage of insults to stop. No other way to deal with this man, he thought. Just wait him out. He’d get tired, and then he might listen.
“Need a favor? I’ll tell you what, how about I get an investigative reporter on your ass, and we get a full-page story on you and your corruption on the front page of the New York fuckin’ Times! Huh? How about I threaten to take down your buddy-buddy bestie the president, huh?”
Those were magic words. Of all the things he could have said, he chose those. And Francone understood fully.
“Funny you should mention that, sir,” he said, peering directly at Francone as he spoke into the phone. “Would you mind having the president of the United States call me right now? I’m in a bit of a pickle.”
Everyone froze. He could see Francone was recalibrating his odds, which had just shifted. His eyes moved slowly from side to side as he tried to figure out his standing. Whatever was coming next, there would be lots of witnesses to it.
Davis continued after he got his breath back.
“A pickle. I saw some photos of you. And if you think it’s funny to use State Department funds to go show some of your drag queen friends a good time on the Mediterranean—I thought you were a solid guy. Does this mean I should question your relationship with the president? Is he a player too?”
“Not at all, sir, and neither am I. I just need to talk to him. Everything will be worked out, and there’s a good explanation for it, all of it. But right now is not the time nor the place to do this. I’ve got at least a dozen semis pointed at my face, the faces of my fiancée’s family, and four SEALs from SEAL Team 3. Without your help, it will be a massacre, and it will all be on your hands.”
He knew it was a stretch. He also knew it was unfair to put all that on Davis, who had been nothing but a solid guy to him, letting him do what he wanted when he wanted and paying him a lot of money to do something no one else could do as well as he could. But it was something he’d have to fix later. Right now, he needed the pressure. That leverage was the only thing left in his arsenal. He prayed Davis would be the Davis he always was, that he would get off his high horse and back down, just like he always did.
And it worked.
They waited no more than five minutes for the call he’d requested. “You’re not recording this, I hope, and no one else better be doing that now, right?” the president said.
“No, sir. I need you to let this gentleman standing here, Commander Enrico Francone, the—”
“I know the asshole. Don’t quote me.”
“I need you to talk to him, sir, and ask him nicely to let us get on our plane and leave for London, back to the States. There’s ten of us Americans here, Moira and her family and my guys from Team 3 and me, of course. We want to come home.”
“Okay, I’ll try. I think I have something I can use. You’re gonna owe me, Dimitri. I don’t want to have to do this again.”
“Not. To. Worry. I’ve totally learned my lesson. This will never,everhappen again, sir.”
He handed the phone to Francone, who smiled in spite of himself. It was the kind of smile that made Dimitri think of someone eating too many prunes or Bing cherries at once and having a lower bowel reaction.
“Yessir? Senator Goldberg? Oh, Senator Goldberg and I are not friends any longer. Remember, he interfered when we were trying to rescue your American family, the very ones standing in front of me here. As you know, he got in the way.”
Moira looked up at Dimitri, wonder in her eyes. Were they about to get the other white whale?
“I understand, sir, and it will be done. Thank you for telling me. If you need anything, anything at all, my department will be at your service, Mr. President. Thank you for your help.”
He handed the phone back to Dimitri, who put it to his ear, but the president had hung up.
The next few hours went by quickly. They were ushered through customs, but not before Moira’s mother ran back and gave Commander Francone a kiss on the cheek, which he tried to brush off, gruffly. Dimitri knew there was a whole other story he’d find out about someday.
Did he want into this family and all their crazy relatives, friends, and culture? If it was the price to pay to have Moira back in his life, hell yes!
They boarded the British Airways jet, which was so sparsely populated that everyone was able to spread out. Dimitri andMoira were seated in First Class, even though they were not ticketed for it, something he thought perhaps was a parting gift from Francone. But then, he doubted the commander had that much sway with the airline. Especially the Brits.
As they took off, the puffy clouds filling the porthole windows, he settled back, propped their feet up together, and snuggled, kissing and nuzzling, playing no-touchy here and there just for fun. Even with the play and the elated sense of freedom that filled his soul, he couldn’t quite stop the tears from filling his eyes.
He was grateful. Grateful that the good guys won again. It was messy, but the right thing happened. They got to ride off into the sunset together, just like a true-life romance.
