Read Online Sphere Of Influence by Kyle Mills - Free Book Online Page B

chest and arms of a serious weight lifter and not just someone who popped into the gym every once in a while to alleviate guilt. His skin was well tanned, and his slicked-back black hair was a little longer than would normally be expected. The blue slacks and white shirt he wore were obviously tailor-made and created a well-thought-out backdrop for an expensive-looking tie. If he were to smile, which seemed unlikely, it was almost certain that his teeth would be ruler-straight and designer-white.
    Laura rose from her chair and stuck her hand out. "You must be Jonathan Drake. I'm Laura Vilechi."
    Beamon smiled. At times there was definitely something to be said for having the White House chief of staff as your best friend. Until now Laura had been confined to working with Drake's underlings, never laying eyes on the man himsel f Drake gave her hand a cursory shake and sat. He turned toward Beamon for a moment but didn't offer any kind of a greeting. It didn't matter. This was Laura's show.
    "Ms. Vilechi--" he started.
    "Call me Laura."
    "Fine. Laura, then. Apparently you had Tom Sherman call the DCI, who then called my boss, Alan Holsten, who has in turn called me with some vague notion that my people are not fully cooperating with you and your investigation."
    Laura opened her mouth to speak but he silenced her with an impatient and rather rude gesture. Beamon smiled. He and Laura were pretty good friends--it could even be argued that he was at least partially responsible for her meteoric rise through the FBI's ranks--and he still wouldn't have the guts to in any way suggest that she shut up. Maybe this meeting would turn out more entertaining than he'd thought.
    Drake continued in an irritated tone deadened by fatigue. Beamon had initially been dazzled by the man's impeccable grooming but now saw that behind it, he looked as if he hadn't slept in a couple of days.
    "Your belief that al-Qaeda is involved in this may be correct or it may not, Laura. Either way, we've shared everything we've got on them with you. What do you want from us? We can't do your job for you. . . ."
    Beamon had to stifle a laugh. Five more minutes of this kind of attitude and Drake was going to find himself at the hospital, having his laptop surgically removed from his ass. ". . . And since all you've provided us with on the weapon is a bunch of poorly supported theories that you seem to have gotten from the media, we've got no leverage with the Russians. Until you have something that's at least got some basis, they're going to deny that this is anything but a model built from materials purchased at Home Depot."
    Laura didn't answer immediately, instead nodding thoughtfully at his lecture.
    "You're right, Jonathan, the FBI has been slow in turning up concrete evidence. That's my fault and I'd like to apologize. We're hoping to get you more soon."
    Beamon had been wondering if Laura's suspicions about the CIA had been just an impression or if she had something more solid. The affected sweetness of her voice answered that question.
    "What I'm looking for," she continued politely, "is some information on the recent skirmishes that have taken place in Afghanistan,1brkmenistan, and Pakistan. Maybe even a few in Iran and 'flukey: I'm not certain of my intelligence, there. I understand that it's possible the al-Qaeda organization is involved."
    Beamon had guessed from Laura's tone that she was about to lower the boom and had been watching Drake's face intently as she spoke. He was good--there was no denying it--a natural-born liar. Whether it was his obvious fatigue or just surprise at the little blond woman's attack, Beamon spotted a split-second glitch in Drake's expression as he shifted gears.
    "We have been picking up some activity--"
    "I see," Laura said. "So when you said you'd shared everything you have, that wasn't entirely accurate." Drake had himself completely back under control when he spoke again. "Come on, Laura, this kind of thing isn't unusual