Strangers in the Night

The Briefing Room

Jackie Bouvier sat in the stark, overly lit conference room of the FBI's Washington field office, her legs crossed elegantly beneath the polished wooden table. The fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead, and the white walls were bare except for a massive corkboard covered in maps, photos, and bits of red string that crisscrossed between them. It was classic spy thriller décor, and Jacqueline couldn't help but smile to herself at the absurdity of it.

Agent Sullivan—tall, lean, with a mop of dark hair that always seemed in need of a trim—was sitting across from her, leaning back in his chair with a grin plastered across his face. He and his partner, Agent Grady, had been handling Jacqueline's intelligence about Alan Cummings for weeks now, and the three of them had developed an unusual rapport.

"Monica, huh?" Sullivan said with a chuckle, glancing at the file in front of him. "Gotta say, Jackie, I never pictured you as a blonde bombshell. But then again, the disguise fits the whole femme fatale . . . thing you've got going."

Jacqueline smiled, giving a playful roll of her eyes. "You'd be surprised what a wig and a new attitude can do, Agent Sullivan. But I assure you, the hair color isn't what makes Monica dangerous."

Grady, shorter and stockier than Sullivan, entered the room carrying two cups of coffee. He set one down in front of Jacqueline, then tossed a file on the table. "Alan's dangerous," he said, a serious note in his voice despite the casual banter that had defined their meetings. "And from what you've been telling us, he's getting impatient."

She nodded, taking a sip of the coffee. "He is. And he's more volatile than ever. The Bay of Pigs fiasco pushed him over the edge. He blames Kennedy personally. Thinks he's arrogant, reckless, and needs to be stopped before he can make another move on Cuba."

Sullivan leaned forward, a glint of humor still in his eyes despite the gravity of the conversation. "And this guy—Alan—thinks a blonde in a slinky dress is gonna help him pull off a presidential assassination? I mean, no offense, Jackie, but this sounds like something out of a bad spy novel."

Jackie shot him a wry look. "You'd be surprised what men like Alan think when they're desperate and blinded by revenge. He trusts me—Monica, I mean. He sees her as his way into Washington's elite circles. And he's not entirely wrong."

Grady, always the more serious of the two, tapped his pen on the table, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Tell us more about the group. Who else is involved?"

Jacqueline placed her coffee down and leaned in, her expression growing serious. "There's a small group, mostly former intelligence operatives like Alan. They're angry, disillusioned with how the Bay of Pigs was handled, and convinced that the President --I mean-- Kennedy, is a threat to national security. They're planning something big, but they're careful. I haven't been able to pin down exactly when or how they're going to strike, but they're growing impatient. Alan hinted that it's sooner rather than later."

Sullivan rubbed his chin thoughtfully, glancing over at Grady. "We've been running background checks on some of the names you've mentioned—nothing concrete yet, but there are definitely some red flags. Ex-military, former CIA assets who went rogue after Cuba. These guys are playing it smart. Too smart."

Jackie's gaze flicked to the corkboard on the wall. She could see the blurry outlines of a photo of Alan, circled in red, with lines connecting him to various others—an underground web. A sick feeling twisted in her gut. These men were serious. And dangerous.

She sighed. "Alan doesn't know that I'm involved with Kennedy, which is the only reason I've been able to stay this close to him. But I can't keep playing Monica forever. Sooner or later, they're going to ask me to do something I can't walk back."

Grady's eyes softened slightly, his usually stern face showing a hint of concern. "You're in deep, Jackie. Maybe too deep. You know, we've got a whole division dedicated to protecting the President. If you handed us everything you know right now, we could—"

"No," she interrupted, shaking her head firmly. "Not yet. If I pull back now, Alan will disappear. He'll go underground, and they'll move forward with the plan without me knowing. I need to stay close. I'm his link to Washington—his link to Kennedy."

Sullivan leaned back again, a half-smirk creeping onto his face. "You really have a flair for the dramatic, Jackie. First you're dating the President, now you're secretly infiltrating an assassination plot against him. What's next? You gonna learn how to defuse bombs while you're at it?"

She arched an eyebrow at him. She wasn't afraid of his challenge. "I'll leave that to you, Agent Sullivan. You and Grady seem perfectly capable of handling explosives."

Grady chuckled for the first time that morning. "I'll take that as a compliment. But seriously, Jackie—this is getting risky. You're walking a fine line between protecting Kennedy and putting yourself in real danger."

Jacqueline's expression softened. She knew they were right, but she also knew that she couldn't pull back now. Alan trusted her. He was a fool to do so, but that trust was her best weapon. She could influence him, steer him, and, when the time was right, stop him.

"I know the risks," she said quietly, her voice steady. "But I'm the only person who can keep Alan close enough to control him. If I walk away now, everything falls apart. And Kennedy..."

She hesitated, her words trailing off. There was a moment of silence between them, an unspoken understanding. The FBI knew about her relationship with Kennedy—how deep it ran. They also knew that her feelings for him were real, even though it complicated everything.

Sullivan sighed and shook his head. "You know, for a first lady in the making, you sure know how to pick a side gig."

Jacqueline shot him a dry look. "If I survive this, maybe I'll consider it a career change."

Grady laughed, a deep rumble that filled the room. "Oh, you're definitely surviving this. But let's not push our luck, okay?"

Sullivan leaned forward again, this time with a more serious expression. "Alright, Jackie. We'll keep feeding you intel on the group's movements, but you need to give us something solid soon. A name, a location, anything. If they're planning to move on Kennedy, we need to be ahead of it. Can you do that?"

Jackie met his gaze, her eyes steely with determination. "I'll get you what you need. Just be ready when I do."

Sullivan grinned. "We're always ready."

As she stood to leave, Grady handed her a small black notebook. "In case you need to jot down anything. Keep it off the radar."

Jackie smiled, pocketing the notebook. "Thanks, Grady. And Sullivan?"

"Yeah?"

"Next time, make the coffee stronger. I've got a president to save."

Sullivan laughed. "You got it, Bouvier. Stay safe out there."

She turned and left the room, her mind already racing. The game was getting more dangerous by the day, but Jacqueline Bouvier wasn't one to back down from a challenge. Not when the stakes were this high.

And certainly not when the man she loved was the one in the crosshairs.