before. You don’t know what it’s like until you’re sitting in that chair with all those old white men staring at you.”
“Zach, a vampire tried to tongue-kiss me the other day. I’m just lucky it didn’t actually drool in my mouth. I think I—”
He waved a hand dismissively. “That’s nothing. Not compared to this. I’ve seen people—hard, experienced people who have been around the block—completely fall apart in that chair.”
The Acting Director was trying to prepare her for testimony before a Senate subcommittee. The committee’s focus was on homeland security, and they wanted to get to the bottom of the vampire story, once and for all, or so they said. Kleefeld had tried to get himselfsubstituted as a witness, but they had insisted that they wanted to interview a field agent.
The problem was, Operation Red-Blooded’s official line was that vampires didn’t exist. The agency’s main thrust in recent weeks had been pushing back against the media onslaught, trying to discredit Andy Gray and to drive stories about vampires off the front pages and back into the supermarket tabloids where they belonged.
If the public came to believe in vampires, not only would mass panic likely come about, but every law enforcement and intelligence operation in the country would want a piece of the battle. Maybe even the military. As long as no one knew they were a threat, Red-Blooded was free to function as it wished. Its funding was black bag, off the books, and they liked it that way. The agency’s existence was so classified that there were people working in the Director of National Security’s office who had never heard of it.
The subcommittee members were sworn to secrecy, of course. Senators sitting on that panel had security clearance to be there. Every senator could keep a secret, otherwise not one of them would ever be re-elected. But those secrets had a tendency to come out sooner or later, once an administration changed or a senator lost a seat or wrote a tell-all book.
Which left Marina with a precarious balancing act. She had to convince the subcommittee members that vampires weren’t real but that Operation Red-Bloodedneeded to be left exactly as it was—or maybe funded a little more heavily—in order to keep them that way.
When Kleefeld had first described the problem, she openly wondered if there was someone she could kill to make the whole subcommittee disappear.
Kleefeld had buried his ruddy face in his hands. “Oh my God … you … you can’t kill a senator, Marina,” he had said. “You just have to lie under oath. And you have to do it convincingly, because these people see liars every time they look in the mirror, so they know all the signs.”
“Lying won’t be a problem,” Marina had said. “I’m good at that.”
But that hadn’t been reassurance enough for Kleefeld. He had insisted on going over every aspect of her testimony with her, trying to anticipate every question that might conceivably be asked. It always came back around to the tightrope.
If vampires are not a problem, why do we need Operation Red-Blooded?
Because you want to make sure they
don’t
become a problem
was the preferred response. Not quite the same as admitting that they existed—but not so far off, either.
She got to the Capitol an hour and a half before her testimony was to begin. There were security checkpoints she had to go through. Even though she was licensed to—
expected
to—carry firearms anywhere, she had left hers locked up in her car. Then she had a private meeting scheduled with Georgia senator BobbyHarlowe, chairman of the subcommittee, to discuss the rules of her appearance. Kleefeld had offered to have an agency attorney with her for that meeting, but she had declined. The lawyer would be at her side during her testimony, and that was good enough for her.
Marina was not easily impressed, but the vast rotunda of the Capitol always did the trick. She walked slowly through the
“Zach, a vampire tried to tongue-kiss me the other day. I’m just lucky it didn’t actually drool in my mouth. I think I—”
He waved a hand dismissively. “That’s nothing. Not compared to this. I’ve seen people—hard, experienced people who have been around the block—completely fall apart in that chair.”
The Acting Director was trying to prepare her for testimony before a Senate subcommittee. The committee’s focus was on homeland security, and they wanted to get to the bottom of the vampire story, once and for all, or so they said. Kleefeld had tried to get himselfsubstituted as a witness, but they had insisted that they wanted to interview a field agent.
The problem was, Operation Red-Blooded’s official line was that vampires didn’t exist. The agency’s main thrust in recent weeks had been pushing back against the media onslaught, trying to discredit Andy Gray and to drive stories about vampires off the front pages and back into the supermarket tabloids where they belonged.
If the public came to believe in vampires, not only would mass panic likely come about, but every law enforcement and intelligence operation in the country would want a piece of the battle. Maybe even the military. As long as no one knew they were a threat, Red-Blooded was free to function as it wished. Its funding was black bag, off the books, and they liked it that way. The agency’s existence was so classified that there were people working in the Director of National Security’s office who had never heard of it.
The subcommittee members were sworn to secrecy, of course. Senators sitting on that panel had security clearance to be there. Every senator could keep a secret, otherwise not one of them would ever be re-elected. But those secrets had a tendency to come out sooner or later, once an administration changed or a senator lost a seat or wrote a tell-all book.
Which left Marina with a precarious balancing act. She had to convince the subcommittee members that vampires weren’t real but that Operation Red-Bloodedneeded to be left exactly as it was—or maybe funded a little more heavily—in order to keep them that way.
When Kleefeld had first described the problem, she openly wondered if there was someone she could kill to make the whole subcommittee disappear.
Kleefeld had buried his ruddy face in his hands. “Oh my God … you … you can’t kill a senator, Marina,” he had said. “You just have to lie under oath. And you have to do it convincingly, because these people see liars every time they look in the mirror, so they know all the signs.”
“Lying won’t be a problem,” Marina had said. “I’m good at that.”
But that hadn’t been reassurance enough for Kleefeld. He had insisted on going over every aspect of her testimony with her, trying to anticipate every question that might conceivably be asked. It always came back around to the tightrope.
If vampires are not a problem, why do we need Operation Red-Blooded?
Because you want to make sure they
don’t
become a problem
was the preferred response. Not quite the same as admitting that they existed—but not so far off, either.
She got to the Capitol an hour and a half before her testimony was to begin. There were security checkpoints she had to go through. Even though she was licensed to—
expected
to—carry firearms anywhere, she had left hers locked up in her car. Then she had a private meeting scheduled with Georgia senator BobbyHarlowe, chairman of the subcommittee, to discuss the rules of her appearance. Kleefeld had offered to have an agency attorney with her for that meeting, but she had declined. The lawyer would be at her side during her testimony, and that was good enough for her.
Marina was not easily impressed, but the vast rotunda of the Capitol always did the trick. She walked slowly through the
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