of the security guards dropped her arms so fast and at the same time, she listed to the side. The shorter guy growled. “What the hell is this?”
“It’s a news conference, which never would’ve happened had Cordova agreed to meet with me.”
She brushed off the sleeves of her brown suede jacket, tugged on its lapels and stepped in front of a microphone. “Yes, Congressman Luis Cordova refused to meet with me, and he’s refused to answer any of my emails. You can make your own determination whether or not that shows disrespect for our military as he continues to cover up the circumstances behind the deaths of three marines in Nigeria.”
“Ms. Moreno.” The congressman magically appeared in the doorway behind her, his unctuous tone, as smooth as oil, swirling through the chaos on the sidewalk. “I was just finishing up with my meeting when I heard the commotion. I told my assistant to clear all my calls immediately. Come back into my office with me. I apologize for the misunderstanding.”
Lana nodded, backed away from the mic and swept past the two security guards, now trying to keep the reporters from following her and the congressman.
Five minutes later, ensconced in a deep leather chair across from Congressman Cordova, a glass of water in front of her, Lana took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I had to resort to those means, but you wouldn’t acknowledge any of my communications.”
Cordova swept a hand over the top of his head, slicking his salt-and-pepper hair back from his forehead. “You saw the report, Ms. Moreno. There’s no mystery, no cover-up. Your brother and the other marines were attacked outside the embassy outpost by a band of marauding criminals. Nigeria can be a lawless place, especially away from the big cities.”
“Really?” She crossed one leg over the other and took a sip of water. “What was the U.S. Government doing in that particular area of Nigeria?”
“That is classified information. Your brother didn’t even know what they were doing there.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” She drummed her fingers on his desk. “I’m waiting for the Marine Corps to ship his belongings to me. They could even arrive as early as this afternoon. Gil always kept a journal. I can’t wait to read what he wrote in that journal.”
“I’m sure it will be a great comfort to you, Ms. Moreno. Lo siento por su perdida.” He steepled his fingers and bowed his head.
Tears stung her nose. “I don’t need you to be sorry for my loss. I need you to use your position on the House Foreign Affairs Committee to open up an investigation of what went down at that embassy outpost—a real investigation.”
“The Committee has no reason to believe anything other than the initial report, a report I went out of my way to send you, by the way.”
Uncrossing her legs, she hunched forward, the ends of her long hair sweeping the glossy surface of his desk. “A report so heavily redacted, I could barely read it through the black lines.”
“A necessity, but I’m sure you got the gist of the information. A marauding band of…”
“Criminals.” She smacked her fist on the desk, causing the pens in the holder to dance. “I’ve heard that line a million times. It’s a solid talking point, but why would common criminals attack a U.S. Embassy outpost? Do you think they were trying to steal computers? Watches off the embassy staff? Cushions from the pool furniture?”
“They’re criminals.” Cordova’s left eyebrow twitched. “I suppose they’re going to steal whatever they can.”
“Why choose a building guarded by U.S. Marines? And why do common criminals in Nigeria have RPGs?”
The congressman shot up in his chair. “Where did you get that information?”
“It wasn’t from the watered-down report you sent me.”
“Ms. Moreno, Lana—” he closed his eyes and took a deep breath “—I truly am sorry for the loss of your brother. He was a hero.”
“He was a hero for getting murdered during a common robbery?”
“He was a hero for serving his country honorably, and I’m going to look into the possibility of naming a park…or something after him in our home town of Greenvale.”
“A baseball field.” Lana gazed at the pictures of Cordova’s family that graced the wall behind him—his son in his baseball uniform and his daughter in a ballerina tutu. “Gil loved baseball and was a great player. He could’ve played some ball in college or the minor leagues, but he chose to enlist instead.”
“Like I said, a true local hero.”
Her eyes snapped back to Cordova’s face. “He was a hero because he and his brothers in arms tried to protect that outpost from a planned attack. Whatever was going on there required more than three marines to guard it, and they deserved backup, a response from other military in the area. I know about that, too.”
“I’m afraid the Committee is not going to open up an investigation based on some half-truths you learned from some anonymous source and your brother’s journal that you haven’t even read yet.” Cordova’s jawline hardened. “I’ve given you all the time I have today, Ms. Moreno, and you can run to the press all you like and paint me as the bad guy, but there’s nothing more I can do for you.”
She pushed out of the chair, her legs like lead beneath her, all the fight drained from her body. She automatically extended her hand across the desk. “Thank you for seeing me.”
The congressman’s face brightened as he squeezed her hand. “Anytime, Ms. Moreno, but make an appointment with Tessa next time and come alone.”
“I will.” When he released her hand, she avoided the temptation to wipe it on the seat of her jeans.
He circled around his desk and showed her out of his office door, a big smile on his face in case a camera or two lurked in the waiting room.
As she walked toward the exit, her knees weak and trembling, she nodded to Tessa behind her desk, clutching the edge, looking ready to bolt.
When Lana reached the door, Cordova called after her. “A baseball field, the Gil Moreno Field. I’ll get right on it.”
“Gilbert.”
“Excuse me?”
“The Gilbert Moreno Baseball Field.” She twisted the handle and bumped the door with her hip, pushing through the double doors.
The cold air slapped her face when she stepped onto the empty sidewalk and her nose started running. She shoved her hands in her pockets and turned the corner of Cordova’s office, which occupied the end spot of a newer strip mall. He probably had nicer digs in DC.
Dragging her hand along the stucco wall of the building, she meandered toward the back alley. She couldn’t do this anymore. She had nothing. She was going to fail her little brother when he needed her most.
She did a half turn and propped her shoulders against the wall, but her meeting with Cordova had sapped all her strength. Her knees giving out on her, she slid down the wall, the suede of her jacket scraping the stucco.
She
