“Mom, let’s pick a new topic,” James suggested mercifully. He looked from his mom to Natalie and back before calling out, “Hey, Dad, would you check this out?”

As Mrs. Harding moved to the kitchen, General Harding reemerged with a scotch in hand and offered Natalie a friendly handshake which she accepted, trying to mask her mortification. He moved to stand beside James and together they studied the image on the big monitor.

“Well, look what you’ve found,” General Harding said finally.

“Why do we have two littoral combat ships and an amphibious assault warship off the coast of Venezuela?” James asked his dad. “It looks like we’re preparing for an attack.”

“Indeed,” his dad said, taking a swig of his scotch. “After the Rigo Lystra blowup last week, I thought we might be kinetic already, but reason has won out. So far.”

Natalie blinked at the general, expecting him to take that back. Or call it a joke. Or declare it off the record.

“Is this about the pipeline?” Natalie asked, alarms going off in her head. “The president wants the Venezuelans to hand over control to Colombia.”

“And the Venezuelans are resisting, so we’re sending ships to make sure it happens,” James concluded.

“Occam’s razor, my friends,” James’s dad said. “The most obvious explanation is usually the right one. Follow the money.”

Natalie considered the half-a-trillion-dollar oil field. It’s hard to imagine a president going to war for oil, again. And in this hemisphere, she told herself.

“But the US will get oil no matter who controls that pipeline,” James said. “Why are we siding with Colombia?”

Natalie added, “And there’s no reporting about this anywhere.”

The general took a sip of his scotch and smiled at Natalie. “I’m sure your friends in the press will take an interest just as soon as the Tomahawks start flying.” He let his voice trail off.

Tomahawk missiles. How did I miss this story? Natalie thought.

“Enough work,” Anne Harding called out. “Let’s eat dinner!”

For the family of a former deputy secretary of defense, the Hardings were surprisingly easy to be around. As they passed her vegan curry and asked about her mother’s wedding, Natalie smiled and nodded in all the right places, but her mind raced with everything she’d learned over the last few hours. She wanted to understand the timing and how the oil field related to Karima’s tips about the president. She needed some quiet to piece it all together.

They were nearing dessert when Natalie’s phone rang. She let it go to voice mail. But the ringing started again and on the third round, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m so sorry,” she said apologetically. “I just want to check that. Could be my mom.”

Walking into the next room, she raced to her phone.