Chapter 51

CHAPTER 51

M C L EAN

Andrew Conroy had sat by a few hospital beds in his day, but this was the first time he'd done so while warming up an "I told you so."

Paul had reached out to him last night and had filled him in on Maggie's accident. She was being taken in for surgery and wouldn't be available to see visitors until the morning.

Conroy had arrived bright and early, giving Paul a chance to go down to the cafeteria for coffee and something to eat.

When Maggie opened her eyes and she saw her boss sitting there, she ordered, "Don't say it. Not a word."

He ignored her issuance. "A handlebar hernia," he remarked. "Never heard of that one before. It's got to be an Agency first."

"Don't rub it in."

"What have I been telling you about that bicycle?"

"You never liked it."

"Correction," said the DDO. "I hated it. And this is why. I always knew something like this was going to happen."

Maggie winced as she struggled to get comfortable in the bed.

"Here," Conroy said, handing her the remote.

After adjusting everything, Maggie relaxed. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. So, I thought we'd discuss your medical leave."

She looked at him. "I haven't requested any yet."

"Well, don't bother. I've already denied it. Preemptively. That place ceases to function without you. We can't afford your absence right now."

Maggie smiled. "It's nice to be needed. That said, those handlebars made some pretty aggressive contact with my abdomen. The surgeon said I'm going to need at least two weeks of bed rest. I don't know how I'm going to get into the office."

"If you're willing, the president has offered you full use of his suite at Walter Reed Medical Center. We'll assign an around-the-clock security detail. You can have any materials you want from the office and any staff as well. There's a secure conference room with encrypted communications where your people can work. There are also the executive living spaces, which will be made available to Paul. As soon as the doctors say you're ready to be moved, we'll transfer you via Marine Corps helicopter. All you have to do is agree."

"You make it rather hard to say no."

"Listen, Maggie. I'm sure you'd rather be recuperating at home. In any other situation, I'd prefer that for you too. Unfortunately, this isn't any other situation. You've got President Porter's ear and you also have the respect of his national security advisor. We need all hands on deck to thread this needle with Russia and Belarus. Nobody has the experience and insights that you do. Without you in the picture, I worry that some of the louder, less-informed voices will start taking up all the air in the room."

"Like I said," Maggie repeated. "It's nice to be needed."

"So, that's a yes?"

"Of course I'll want to speak with Paul first, but yes. Please tell the president that I appreciate his generosity."

"Terrific," Conroy said. "I'll get everything in motion. As soon as you know what people and materials you want, we can get those balls rolling too. In the meantime, I need to ask you about a particular Russian diplomat."

"Which one?"

"Russia's military attaché to France."

Maggie inhaled a sharp breath. "Colonel Vladimir Elovik. He's a very nasty piece of work. Why are you interested in him?"

"Scot Harvath is about to make contact. And it isn't going to be a polite social call."

"Well, Elovik's file speaks for itself. Like I said, he's a nasty piece of work. His colleagues call him the ‘Porcupine' because he surrounds himself with pricks. Seems to have an affinity for bad actors and people of low character. Feels right at home around them. Whatever business Harvath has with Elovik, tell him to be very, very careful."