Read Online The Fellowship by William Tyree - Free Book Online
Authors: William Tyree
Tags: thriller
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immediately been drawn to the sound of her warm Richmond dialect in his earpiece. Armed with an M4 carbine and a pair of binoculars, Ellis had taken up a position atop the Eisenhower Building, acting as the eyes and ears of the disparate forces fighting to ensure the president’s safety. Like Carver, she had later been awarded the National Intelligence Distinguished Service Medal in a private White House ceremony.
A few weeks after she dumped Hector , Carver ran into her at the half-marathon up in Baltimore. Ellis had been decked out in blue and white running shorts and socks, quipping that she was “100% made in the USA.” Her tone and body language had been unmistakably flirtatious. He felt sparks when they chatted, and they had run the first few minutes of the race side-by-side. Carver felt an undeniable attraction to her. But he didn’t have many friends in Washington like Hector Rios, who was still licking his wounds. Ellis had tried to contact Carver after the marathon, but he had never responded. He could only hope that she had forgotten about the snub by now.
Carver felt the vehicle slow as Speers pulled into a private parking garage near the White House. The security staff waved him through, and he promptly pulled the oversized vehicle into a parking spot labeled COS, for chief of staff. Speers hadn’t held that title since last year.
“That’s ballsy,” Carver said as they got out of the vehicle.
“ The spot is still mine.”
“ What?” Carver said. “Shut up.”
“I’m serious,” Speers insisted as they walked across 17 th Avenue toward the White House. “Eva’s new chief of staff parks a few blocks away. When they offered me the job out in McLean, I told them I needed the spot. I knew I’d be going back and forth between D.C. and McLean constantly.”
“ You’re offered the top intelligence job in the country, and the thing you want to negotiate is parking?”
Speers unwrapped a grape lollipop and slid it between his cheek and gum. “That’s right,” he said, talking out of the left side of his mouth. “My next move is getting my old office back.”
The White House
Washington D.C.
Carver hadn’t seen the president’s private study since before Eva Hudson’s inauguration. During the previous administration, aside from the lavish molding on the walls and ceiling, the room hadn’t looked much different from any home office. Now the small sitting area, phone, desk and printer were all gone, having been replaced with a sleek conference table that seated five and an enormous TV on the wall.
Carver, Ellis, Speers and Fordham sat around the sides of the table, leaving the head of the table for the president. Carol Lam, the 69-year-old grandmother of eight and the president’s private secretary, walked in with a tray of drinks.
“Mr. Carver,” Carol said with a huge smile. “It’s been far too long since you’ve visited us.”
Carver stood. “You look amazing.” He meant it. Carol looked younger now than she had when she’d arrived at the White House seven years earlier. Maybe Eva wasn’t really as high maintenance as Speers had led him to believe.
“There was a rumor last winter that we might be seeing more of you,” Carol said, an obvious reference to Carver’s turning down the national security advisor role. “I was disappointed.”
Carol removed a cappuccino from the tray and placed it on the coffee table before Ellis. She set two more in front of Speers and Fordham.
“No thanks,” Carver said when he saw her reaching for a fourth cup. “I don’t –”
“Drink coffee . I’m well aware of your aversion to artificial stimulants. The cappuccino is for the president.”
She left the room without offering him anything. He turned to Speers. “I think she just snubbed me.”
“ It’s about time someone put you in your place,” Speers said.
“What are you saying?”
“That your dietary requirements are obnoxious. Like time we went out
A few weeks after she dumped Hector , Carver ran into her at the half-marathon up in Baltimore. Ellis had been decked out in blue and white running shorts and socks, quipping that she was “100% made in the USA.” Her tone and body language had been unmistakably flirtatious. He felt sparks when they chatted, and they had run the first few minutes of the race side-by-side. Carver felt an undeniable attraction to her. But he didn’t have many friends in Washington like Hector Rios, who was still licking his wounds. Ellis had tried to contact Carver after the marathon, but he had never responded. He could only hope that she had forgotten about the snub by now.
Carver felt the vehicle slow as Speers pulled into a private parking garage near the White House. The security staff waved him through, and he promptly pulled the oversized vehicle into a parking spot labeled COS, for chief of staff. Speers hadn’t held that title since last year.
“That’s ballsy,” Carver said as they got out of the vehicle.
“ The spot is still mine.”
“ What?” Carver said. “Shut up.”
“I’m serious,” Speers insisted as they walked across 17 th Avenue toward the White House. “Eva’s new chief of staff parks a few blocks away. When they offered me the job out in McLean, I told them I needed the spot. I knew I’d be going back and forth between D.C. and McLean constantly.”
“ You’re offered the top intelligence job in the country, and the thing you want to negotiate is parking?”
Speers unwrapped a grape lollipop and slid it between his cheek and gum. “That’s right,” he said, talking out of the left side of his mouth. “My next move is getting my old office back.”
The White House
Washington D.C.
Carver hadn’t seen the president’s private study since before Eva Hudson’s inauguration. During the previous administration, aside from the lavish molding on the walls and ceiling, the room hadn’t looked much different from any home office. Now the small sitting area, phone, desk and printer were all gone, having been replaced with a sleek conference table that seated five and an enormous TV on the wall.
Carver, Ellis, Speers and Fordham sat around the sides of the table, leaving the head of the table for the president. Carol Lam, the 69-year-old grandmother of eight and the president’s private secretary, walked in with a tray of drinks.
“Mr. Carver,” Carol said with a huge smile. “It’s been far too long since you’ve visited us.”
Carver stood. “You look amazing.” He meant it. Carol looked younger now than she had when she’d arrived at the White House seven years earlier. Maybe Eva wasn’t really as high maintenance as Speers had led him to believe.
“There was a rumor last winter that we might be seeing more of you,” Carol said, an obvious reference to Carver’s turning down the national security advisor role. “I was disappointed.”
Carol removed a cappuccino from the tray and placed it on the coffee table before Ellis. She set two more in front of Speers and Fordham.
“No thanks,” Carver said when he saw her reaching for a fourth cup. “I don’t –”
“Drink coffee . I’m well aware of your aversion to artificial stimulants. The cappuccino is for the president.”
She left the room without offering him anything. He turned to Speers. “I think she just snubbed me.”
“ It’s about time someone put you in your place,” Speers said.
“What are you saying?”
“That your dietary requirements are obnoxious. Like time we went out
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