Read Online Mercy Killing (Affairs of State Book 1) by Kathryn Johnson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kathryn Johnson
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behind a perimeter security fence. It seemed a bland if functional, 1960’s-style government building. Far less interesting than other nearby structures.
The driver, perhaps sensing her disappointment with the embassy’s appearance, told her that she’d find a pretty courtyard in the center, with umbrella-tables for sitting outside and enjoying lunch.
“And see?” he added, cheerfully pointing out nearby establishments. “ Starbucks, MacDonald’s, Sheraton Hotel. We have everything!”
She laughed. “What more could anyone want?” Indeed, she was itching to explore, but it was the local markets and vivid shops that enticed her. She was about to say as much to Peter, but she could see from the tension etched in the crinkles around his eyes and the tightness of his lips that he wasn’t in the mood for chatting. He whisked her off to meet his staff.
Mercy knew he had already become acquainted with embassy personnel on two previous visits. He introduced her to two of them who were waiting inside to greet them. Brad Stevens, a plump and pleasant man about ten years older than Peter, spoke Spanish as if he were a native. Carlotta Smith, the striking daughter of a Mexican woman and an American mining engineer, had grown up in the city. Carlotta offered them coffee, then excused herself to pick up a ringing phone from the information desk.
“She’s indispensable,” Brad confided to Mercy as he walked them through a maze of corridors. “Carlotta’s a brilliant woman, really.” She wondered about that last tacked-on word. As if he had to provide an excuse for her attractiveness. Mercy wondered why some men couldn’t seem to accept that a woman could be both beautiful and smart.
They passed offices dedicated to passport requests, Immigration, Social Security, legal referrals and other services needed by American citizens traveling or living abroad.
“By the way,” Brad said, “that there is the room where dependents receive their in-country briefings. You’ll be given a schedule and can choose a convenient time, Mrs. Davis.”
“Thank you. And it’s Mercy.” She smiled. “I’ll look forward to it.”
Brad grinned. “Good.” With his freckles and red hair, he reminded her of an old Howdy Doody puppet her father had treasured from his childhood. The senator once told her that, even in the worst of times, one look at that goofy, innocent face made him smile. Now that her father was gone, Howdy had a place of honor on a shelf in the guest bedroom of her Georgetown home. Or would have that place again when she returned to DC and unpacked him.
Brad was jabbering on, listing off the names of other employees as they passed their offices. “And this is Carlotta's office. Like I was saying, she's totally amazing. The woman can smooth over any misunderstanding in one sentence or less.”
“Sounds like a valuable asset to the embassy’s mission,” Mercy commented.
Peter nodded. “Absolutely. Lucky to have her.”
The interior of the building might easily have been as drab as the outside, but for a savvy decorator’s touch. Walls, atriums, even sections of flooring had been decorated with a mixture of Aztec and Spanish artifacts and art. Mercy was in heaven. Seeing such gorgeous paintings, sculpture, and objects d’art made her ache for time to spend with her own painting, although she had willingly put that aside to support her husband's career.
Looking up at a mural that spanned an entire wall, she murmured, “This is absolutely stunning.”
“If you think this is grand, just wait until you see your house.” Brad winked at Peter.
Mercy turned to her husband. “Our house? I thought we’d agreed to rent a small apartment until we located something more permanent that we both liked.”
Peter rocked back on his heels, hands in his pockets, looking tickled with himself. “I'm one jump ahead of you, sweetheart.”
His sudden smugness worried her. “Oh really.”
Brad laughed. “Peter, you’re
The driver, perhaps sensing her disappointment with the embassy’s appearance, told her that she’d find a pretty courtyard in the center, with umbrella-tables for sitting outside and enjoying lunch.
“And see?” he added, cheerfully pointing out nearby establishments. “ Starbucks, MacDonald’s, Sheraton Hotel. We have everything!”
She laughed. “What more could anyone want?” Indeed, she was itching to explore, but it was the local markets and vivid shops that enticed her. She was about to say as much to Peter, but she could see from the tension etched in the crinkles around his eyes and the tightness of his lips that he wasn’t in the mood for chatting. He whisked her off to meet his staff.
Mercy knew he had already become acquainted with embassy personnel on two previous visits. He introduced her to two of them who were waiting inside to greet them. Brad Stevens, a plump and pleasant man about ten years older than Peter, spoke Spanish as if he were a native. Carlotta Smith, the striking daughter of a Mexican woman and an American mining engineer, had grown up in the city. Carlotta offered them coffee, then excused herself to pick up a ringing phone from the information desk.
“She’s indispensable,” Brad confided to Mercy as he walked them through a maze of corridors. “Carlotta’s a brilliant woman, really.” She wondered about that last tacked-on word. As if he had to provide an excuse for her attractiveness. Mercy wondered why some men couldn’t seem to accept that a woman could be both beautiful and smart.
They passed offices dedicated to passport requests, Immigration, Social Security, legal referrals and other services needed by American citizens traveling or living abroad.
“By the way,” Brad said, “that there is the room where dependents receive their in-country briefings. You’ll be given a schedule and can choose a convenient time, Mrs. Davis.”
“Thank you. And it’s Mercy.” She smiled. “I’ll look forward to it.”
Brad grinned. “Good.” With his freckles and red hair, he reminded her of an old Howdy Doody puppet her father had treasured from his childhood. The senator once told her that, even in the worst of times, one look at that goofy, innocent face made him smile. Now that her father was gone, Howdy had a place of honor on a shelf in the guest bedroom of her Georgetown home. Or would have that place again when she returned to DC and unpacked him.
Brad was jabbering on, listing off the names of other employees as they passed their offices. “And this is Carlotta's office. Like I was saying, she's totally amazing. The woman can smooth over any misunderstanding in one sentence or less.”
“Sounds like a valuable asset to the embassy’s mission,” Mercy commented.
Peter nodded. “Absolutely. Lucky to have her.”
The interior of the building might easily have been as drab as the outside, but for a savvy decorator’s touch. Walls, atriums, even sections of flooring had been decorated with a mixture of Aztec and Spanish artifacts and art. Mercy was in heaven. Seeing such gorgeous paintings, sculpture, and objects d’art made her ache for time to spend with her own painting, although she had willingly put that aside to support her husband's career.
Looking up at a mural that spanned an entire wall, she murmured, “This is absolutely stunning.”
“If you think this is grand, just wait until you see your house.” Brad winked at Peter.
Mercy turned to her husband. “Our house? I thought we’d agreed to rent a small apartment until we located something more permanent that we both liked.”
Peter rocked back on his heels, hands in his pockets, looking tickled with himself. “I'm one jump ahead of you, sweetheart.”
His sudden smugness worried her. “Oh really.”
Brad laughed. “Peter, you’re
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