0.5 Meeting Monday Read Free Page A

stared up. Other than his ragged breathing, he was silent.
    She tried to avoid Jake’s stare.
    “It’s over. Where is the Ambassador, Agent Parker? Where is the rest of your team?” Jake demanded.
    “Inside. The Marines have him secured.”
    “Secured? Why?”
    “He is dead.”
    “Dead? Why?”
    She licked her lips and stared at the pavement where he had fallen.
    “Allergies.”
    She saw Agent Vine stare down at Compton.
    “It is true,” he croaked.
    “How?” Jake asked.
    She still could not look at him. She knew he was struggling to make sense of all this. She wished she could help. It all made no sense.
    She was there when he began to choke, his face turning red then purple. At first, they thought he had swallowed something and his airway was clogged. Clavelle had tried the Heimlich. He merely vomited onto the pristine lawn of the Schloss Bellevue. Halley quickly diagnosed anaphylactic shock. That was when a doctor had shown up. He hand his friends tended to the aged ambassador. They were too late.
    It was the doctor that had suggested it was an allergic reaction. Then Wesson confessed to giving Ambassador Welsey a sandwich. Soon, it was discovered that the caterer had sliced the tuna and rye with the same knife as the peanut butter and jelly.
    She felt her head droop.
    “What does he want you to keep secret, Halley?”
    It no longer mattered. It only mattered to Compton and his cronies. Saving face was important. She was the rookie. She was expected to be the whistle blower. The truth was she would easily take this secret to the grave.
    “Nothing,” she said. She watched as Compton eyed her from his position on the ground. She could see the hate there. What she had done to deserve it, she could not comprehend nor care.
    Jake frowned at her. She sniffled.
    “Let him up, Jake,” she commanded.
    He tilted his head.
    “Will you tell me?”
    She shrugged. She could feel the heat of Compton’s stare. Her career was over before it had properly begun. Compton would make this all her fault.
    Clavelle’s attempt at saving the Ambassador had actually been the cause of his death. The reaction was severe, but when Agent Clavelle had attempted to dislodge a non-existent obstruction, he had broken three of the ambassador’s ribs. Two had punctured the old man’s lungs. The allergic reaction had caused the bile and vomit to fill his lungs when they failed to properly diagnose it. He had died from a combination of drowning on his own vomit and a punctured lung.
    They were all responsible. Clavelle most of all. Compton had forced the team to agree to keep Clavelle’s involvement secret. He had suggested it was an accident and that they should all maintain the facts that supported that theory. When she had broken down crying, Compton had slapped her, pinned her arm behind her and proceeded to administer threats.
    “Maybe someday. Right now I just want to go home.”
    She looked and saw a sadness in his eyes.
    He stared down at Compton.
    “Do not think that you are safe. I will have your badge.”
    Compton staggered to his feet, blood dripping freshly from his nose. He held it pinched, his eyes narrow.
    “You can have it, Vine. I quit.”
    Jake nodded.
    Compton stumbled off down the alley toward the unit’s vehicle.
    “You alright?” Jake asked her. He held her by the shoulders.
    She swallowed again, her head bowed. She tried to nod.
    “You need me to escort you back to the Adlon?”
    Halley shook her head.
    “Where did Compton go?” Johnson asked from behind her.
    Jake looked over his shoulder.
    “Back to the vehicle. I think he broke his nose?”
    She watched as Jake stared Johnson down. Johnson did not say anything. Halley sniffled during the silence between them.
    A deep thumping rhythm sounded through the lawn, vibrating the old stone walls. The drummer was using a synthetic drum machine. Its beat reverberated against her head.
    She heard Johnson leave, his footsteps echoing off the building.
    She looked