The Prisoner - Carlos J. Cortes [105]
“How dare you?” Odelle turned slowly to face Genia. “I expect the source of that information on my desk within the hour, along with his resignation.”
Before Genia could answer, Ritter continued without having moved or shifted his gaze. “Director Warren can have the information and my resignation as soon as she sees fit to demand it.”
It had to happen. That it was happening so fast was further proof that Odelle was losing her cool. Her outburst was petty. Still, there were limits. “Ms. Marino, I beg you to reconsider,” Genia said. “The resignation of a senior officer in federal service must be served to his agency director with a copy to the Congress’s permanent committee: article 163, section six, subsections two and three of the disciplinary code. Such a resignation must include the superior officer’s certification of the reason or reasons why such a resignation was tendered. No doubt Mr. Ritter will draft intent of personal reasons, but I am honor bound to add that the resignation was demanded by you because of his refusal to obey an illegal order.” She didn’t add that Ritter’s revelation painted an appalling picture of incompetence in the handling of the affair by the DHS. But Genia could swear Odelle had caught her drift.
In a chameleonic turnabout, Odelle Marino’s face relaxed and a faint smile curved her lips. “You’re right, of course. But this wretched episode will soon be over. Then I’m sure we’ll have a suitable opportunity to review this conversation.” Her face set. “That will be all, for now.”
In silence, Genia Warren and Lawrence Ritter collected their regulation weapons and communication pads from the security desk and headed for the elevator. As soon as the car doors closed, Ritter yanked off his beret and, in a movement too fast to follow, slapped the black beret over the surveillance camera, grabbed for Genia’s waist, and pulled her to him, kissing her with something close to ferocious urgency. Genia tried to gasp but only managed to accept his tongue. She could have reached for her piece or rammed a knee into his groin, but she did neither. Of its own accord, her hand moved to the nape of his neck, to bask in the fact that unconsciously she’d been dying to feel his smooth skin for ages. With the same haste, Ritter released her, grabbed his beret, slapped it on his head, and regained his habitual deadpan expression. Genia blinked, her breath coming out in hurried gasps, wondering if she’d imagined the whole episode. Her lips tingled. “What was that?” she breathed.
Ritter raised an eyebrow, a gesture that gave his face a curious Mephistophelian look, and whispered, “Heroic gestures have the strangest effect on me.”
At the parking lot, Ritter held the doors from closing and leaned toward her as she squeezed past him. “She wasn’t alone. Someone was listening from her office.”
When Genia Warren and Lawrence Ritter left, Nikola Masek opened the connecting door between Odelle Marino’s office and boardroom and stepped through, inwardly aghast at her handling of Ritter. She was clearly outmatched. The man was a walking encyclopedia of rules, laws, and legislation.
She turned to face him. “Who leaked it to The Post?”
“It could have been anyone.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I have the tape—a synthetic voice. Its identity is irrelevant, for the time being at least. But my bet is, whoever organized the escape leaked it to the press.”
“Why?”
“They’re losing their nerve or Russo has died or both.”
“And how did Ritter get accurate details of the explosion?”
Over the past few minutes, eavesdropping on Odelle’s careless display of brute force, Nikola had weighed what his answer should be to her predictable question. “Anybody could have given him that information, from within