by Julie Hyzy
Moments later, Jackson came back into the Roosevelt Room.
Followed by Cooper.
My shock at the agent’s unexpected appearance rendered me speechless.
“Hello,” he said pleasantly. “It’s nice to see you again, Ms. Paras.”
I murmured a polite reply, not understanding this turn of events. Jackson intervened. “Mr. Cooper needs this room to make a private phone call,” he said with just the proper eloquence to usher me out. He followed me into the hall with the now-empty food cart.
Already dialing, Cooper offered absentminded thanks.
As soon as we were in the corridor, Jackson pointed to the dining room. “Come on, let’s get in there.”
“In?” I asked. “Where?”
He brought a finger to his lips. In hushed tones, he urged me forward. “President Campbell was called away by his secretary. It’s your chance, Ollie. Take it now or…”
He didn’t get to finish his sentence.
I stepped into the President’s Dining Room, Jackson behind me. He began clearing the plates around the room’s sole occupant, Kap, who was leaning on the table, his head propped up with one hand.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Kapostoulos,” I said.
He looked up immediately. “Ollie,” he said, standing and closing his portfolio as he did so. “It’s good to see you again.”
Making small talk while I helped clear the tabletop, I forced a smile. “You, too. I happened to be over here, with Jackson ”-I gestured out the door-“and I took the opportunity to stop by and say hello.”
“I’m glad you did.” But he didn’t look glad at all.
In record time the table was clear except for coffee cups, a few ancillary items, and three leather portfolios. All closed. Darn it.
“How is your mother?” he asked.
“Great,” I said. “She really enjoyed dinner the other night.”
“I’m glad.”
Calling on moxie I didn’t know I possessed, I said, “Small world. I’m surprised to run into you here at the White House.”
“Yes, I imagine you are.” He glanced down at the table, as though eager to get back to work. “And it was nice to see you again.”
I took the hint. I was being dismissed.
“I don’t want to bother you any longer, but…” Acting on whim, I blustered forth. “If you wanted to stop by the kitchen before you leave, I would love to show you around.”
Kap looked up from his papers, regarding me with a bit of wariness now. “That’s very kind of you. I may take you up on it.”
Was he as eager to find out more about me as I was about him? I hoped so. That would give me an opportunity to figure out exactly what this man was after.
Jackson was finished in here. And so was I.
As we left Kap sitting there, I worked up my most welcome smile. “I really hope you stop by.”
With this new toxin information running through my frenzied brain, I almost forgot my Secret Service mission. No longer encumbered by the wheeled cart, I took the stairs just outside the Cabinet Room down to the lower level.
I was glad to find Craig in his office. As much as I didn’t want to talk with him directly, I knew I had to. I waited in the anteroom for his assistant to announce me, and was shown in at once.
“Do you have a minute?” I asked.
Craig would be so much more handsome if he smiled once in a while. He had been writing longhand when I walked in, and he was slow to pull his attention from the paper before him. Slower still, was the drawl in his question. “What can I do for you, Ms. Paras?”
I pasted on a cheerful face. “Two things.”
His eyebrows arched and he placed his pen on the blotter, carefully arranging it exactly parallel to the blotter’s edge. “You may proceed.”
“First, I need to arrange to have the eggs delivered to the kitchen. Our Egg Board liaison has our supply ready. I just need the Secret Service to coordinate with her.”
He nodded, pulled out a fresh sheet of paper, and wrote on it. “Specifics?”
I provided Brandy’s name, phone, e-mail, and the location of the eggs. He recorded it all.
“Consider it done,” he said. “And second?”
This was the hard part. “It’s about Agent MacKenzie.”
His expression utterly neutral, he blinked slowly, waiting for me to continue.
“You need to be aware that Agent MacKenzie and I…” I faltered. Biting my lip, I tried again. “There is no need for you to…”
Again, the slow blinking. “Ms. Paras, exactly what are you trying to communicate about one of my agents? Are you reporting improper behavior on his part?”
“No!” If it were anyone but Craig, I might think he was trying to make a joke. But this guy was all serious, all the time. My voice naturally rose, but I struggled to lower it, cognizant of others in the anteroom. I stepped closer and spoke quietly. “Tom and I broke up, okay?” When there was no reaction on his part, I clarified. “We are no longer in a relationship. You got your wish.”
His brow creased. “And you are telling me this, why?”
He knew exactly why, but I took another step closer to his desk. “You can no longer hold Agent MacKenzie responsible for my behavior,” I said. And then I said the words that hurt most of all. “He is no longer part of my life.”
I didn’t wait for Craig to respond. I turned and hurried out the door and didn’t stop walking until I was safely back in the haven of the kitchen.
“You okay?” Cyan asked.
I nodded. “ Mission accomplished.”
She and Henry wore expressions that said they didn’t believe me, but we had so much work ahead that neither of them pressed me for more.
CHAPTER 22
“HERE COMES TROUBLE,” CYAN WHISPERED.
In the midst of chopping chives, I looked up.
“And this is the kitchen staff,” Sargeant said, sweeping his arm forward to encompass all of us. “Although I confess I’m stymied as to why you wished to visit this part of the residence. Are you, perhaps, an aspiring chef?”
Standing a head taller than Sargeant, Kap halted in the doorway before entering. He ignored Sargeant’s question and addressed me. “I hope I’m not interrupting you, Ollie.”
“No, not at all.” I wiped my hands on my apron and stepped forward.
Nonplussed, Sargeant attempted to regain control of the conversation. He glared at me. “I wasn’t aware you and Mr. Kapostoulos were acquainted.”
I opened my mouth to form a vague reply when Kap said, “Ms. Paras and I have friends in common.” Kap looked at me. “Good friends, wouldn’t you say?”
Well, wasn’t that a little presumptuous. “Yes,” I said, more to annoy Sargeant than agree with Kap, “very good friends.”
Sargeant sniffed. “I have a list of questions for you, Ms. Paras. They came from the president himself. We are very concerned with sensitive food issues that relate to religious observances and belief systems. In fact, when Mr. Kapostoulos expressed his desire to visit the kitchen, the president suggested I accompany him. He believes that this way I can kill two birds with one stone, as it were.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, but Sargeant poking his nose into the kitchen was nothing new. Doing so in the presence of Kap, however, made it odd. “Of course,” I said. “Let’s get started.”
I watched Henry and Kap size each other up. They were about the same height, about the same age. Henry resembled a kindly uncle, while Kap could have graced a senior edition of GQ. Henry offered to show Kap around, but our visitor declined and politely suggested Sargeant carry on.
At that, Sargeant opened a portfolio and clicked his pen. Kap’s dark eyes visibly hardened, almost as though the irises had swallowed up the pupils. He fixed his laser gaze firmly on our sensitivity director.
Sargeant asked, “What sort of delicacies do you generally prepare for the president and his guests?”
“There are many,” I said. “That
’s a difficult question. Is there something specific you want to know about?”
“No. No.” Sargeant smiled, but I could tell it was just for show. “I just need to clear up these loose ends.” He consulted his notebook. “For instance… have you ever served truffles?” He looked up at me.
“Yes.”
He wrote that down. I got the feeling he was gauging my truthfulness. But why would I lie? “Foie gras?”
“The president doesn’t like it. So, no.”
“Caviar.”
“Yes.”
“Puffer fish.”
“No,” I said, aghast.
He watched me as I answered. “You have never served puffer fish?”
“Of course not. It’s too dangerous.”
With a prim smirk, he nodded and wrote that down.
A moment later, he continued with the questions, finishing off a list of about ten items, most of which we had served at one time or another. But never puffer fish. It wasn’t worth the risk. The skin and organs contained deadly toxins.
I looked up at both of them.
“What is it?” Kap asked.
I lied, “Nothing.”
“You’re sure?”
“I… I have a lot to do for tomorrow. I just thought of something I forgot.”
Sargeant wrinkled his nose as he shut his notebook. “I suppose that will be enough for now. I’m no longer needed here.” He waited, as though hoping we’d correct him. We didn’t.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kapostoulos,” Sargeant said with a little bow. He ignored the rest of us and left the room without looking back.
Kap turned to us. “Who hired that… gentleman?”
Cyan laughed. “We haven’t been able to figure that one out yet.”
Kap smiled at her and at Henry. “Would you mind if I borrowed your boss for a few minutes?”
My heart gave a little thump of disappointment. I didn’t know what he might want to talk about, but it was probably about my mom, and not something I wanted to hear. I steeled myself and followed him out. He led me into the Center Hall. “I don’t want to worry you, Ollie,” he began.
“I’m not worried,” I said. “My mother is a smart, strong lady.”
“She is,” he agreed. “And her daughter takes after her.”
Blatant flattery always made my teeth hurt. I clenched them. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”
“I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention my visit here.”
That seemed like a peculiar request. “Your visit to the kitchen?”
“My visit to the White House.”
“Who would I tell?”
“Your family?” He shot me with that laser gaze again. “Howard Liss?”
“What?” I laughed my disbelief. “Why do you think I would have anything to do with that repulsive-”
“He hasn’t contacted you?”
The question shut me up. “How did you know that?” I asked. “What kind of consultant are you, anyway?”
“Let’s keep my visit to the White House between us, okay?”
I didn’t understand. “But other people have seen you here.” I held up my fingers, one at a time. “Henry, Cyan, Jackson, Peter Everett Sargeant III, not to mention everyone in the West Wing.”
“I’m not worried about the other staff. They’re not on Howard Liss’s radar.” He ventured a smile. “Please, let’s just keep this between us, shall we?”
The minute he left, I headed for the computer. “So that’s your mom’s boyfriend?” Cyan asked.
I didn’t think it was a good idea to look up my Internet question while Cyan stood next to me. “Just while she’s in town.”
From behind us, Henry grunted. We both turned.
“He’s here to stay,” Henry said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Henry stopped chopping scallions to look up at us. “He’s got the look.”
“What look?”
My former boss waved his knife at me. “You’re not going to get rid of him very easily.”
“Great,” I said.
Cyan patted me on the shoulder. “He’s very good-looking.”
“So was Ted Bundy.”
Cyan laughed, but at least she headed over to the other end of the kitchen. I was free to surf the ’Net. Sargeant’s inquiries-with Kap at his sleeve-were too suspicious to be the routine questions he claimed. The first thing I typed into my browser was “Puffer fish,” then, “Enter.”
And there it was.
Tetrodotoxin. Extremely deadly. Could cause death in as little as twenty minutes. This had to be the toxin Kap and Cooper were discussing at lunch today.
Puffer fish was considered a delicacy, but much too dangerous for me to consume myself, let alone serve to the president. But if my hunch was right, it was this toxin that killed Minkus.
I signed off and sat there for a minute, closing my eyes against the fear. Puffer fish poisoning was serious. No wonder they suspected the kitchen. I had no idea how to deal with the onslaught of publicity this revelation was certain to generate.
All day, with this new tetrodotoxin information floating around, I had expected the Secret Service to swarm the kitchen and kick us out again. That hadn’t happened. Instead, the eggs arrived just as Craig had promised; preparations moved forward for the following day’s holiday meal; and Cyan, Henry, and I made great strides on the Egg Roll preparations.
When I finally left the White House that night, it was late. The Metro was still running, fortunately, so I set off for the MacPherson Square station, hoping the brisk walk would help clear my head. Just outside the East Gate, I pulled out my cell and was surprised to see I had two missed calls. The first one was from Tom. “Call me when you can.” I looked at the phone, waiting for more. But that was the extent of the message. Time-stamped about two hours ago.
The second call was from Liss. Of course. My new buddy. Despite Kap’s best efforts, Liss had probably gotten wind of the ME’s report and wanted a news scoop for tomorrow morning’s edition, about how often we served puffer fish to the president. I listened to his message. “Olivia-I understand that the two men we discussed have indeed had their audience today. You may be interested to know that when they left their meeting, they went straight to visit the ‘late agent’s’ office.” He paused, as though allowing me time to let the information settle in. “What do you think they are looking for?”
He’d made it sound like one of his scandalous headlines. The lunatic. I ignored his call and instead steeled myself before dialing Tom. He answered right away. But rather than say hello, he asked, “Why did you tell Craig we had broken up?”
“He told you?”
“Why did you do that, Ollie?”
“So he could no longer hold you responsible for my actions.”
Tom made a noise of complete exasperation. “You didn’t think I could handle it?”
“I didn’t think you should have to.”
He was silent a moment. “Let me guess: You’re running your own investigation.”
I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me. “I’m just trying to clear the kitchen’s name.”
“Well, you can quit right now. You’ve been cleared.”
“What about Bucky?”
He didn’t have an answer for that.
I pressed my luck. “Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“They know what killed Minkus, don’t they?”
He hedged. “This is a discussion for another time.”
“Was it really tetrodotoxin?”
“Where did you hear-?” Agitated, he nearly shouted, “How do you know that? No one knows the name of…” His voice trailed off but his anger was still palpable.
I was at the mouth of the MacPherson Square station, but I didn’t head underground, where my signal would be lost. “I just heard some things, okay?”
Tom’s irritation manifested itself in a series of restless noises. “My Go
d, is nothing safe from your damn snooping?”
I started to answer, but he cut me off.
“We’re on cell phones. Stop talking. Now.” He blew out a breath. “Where are you?”
“Just about to get on the Metro to go home.”
“You’re at the station?”
“At the top of the stairs.”
“Wait there,” he said and hung up.
I didn’t much care for the idea of hanging around waiting for Tom, especially when he sounded so aggravated. It was dark out, and standing alone outside a Metro station made me believe I was asking for trouble. But he arrived in less than five minutes. Pulling up in a government-issue sedan, he popped the locks and waved me in.
“First of all,” I began, even before my butt hit the seat, “I work in the White House. I hear sensitive things all the time.”
He pulled away the moment my door was closed. “Do you usually broadcast them over your cell phone?”
“No one is listening in on my cell phone.”
“You sure about that?”
I shrugged.
His mouth was tight as he asked, “You ever think they might be listening in on mine?”
“I thought yours was secure.”
He made an exasperated noise. “You and I work in the White House. Nothing is as secure as we’d like it to be.”
“Second,” I said, “if this puffer fish toxin is what killed Minkus, why in the world is the kitchen cleared of suspicion? I would think this would make us look more guilty.”
“Puffer fish isn’t the toxin’s only source,” he said.
“I know that. But that doesn’t mean the kitchen should be cleared.”
I had no idea where we were going. From the arbitrary turns Tom took, it appeared he had no idea either. “You don’t want to be cleared?”
“Of course I do. I just don’t understand it.”
There was a parking spot open, just a few cars ahead of us. Tom was silent as he pulled into it and shut off the engine. “Why do you need to understand? Why can’t you just accept the facts as presented to you?”
“Because they don’t make sense.”
He stared out the windshield for a long moment. We were on a deserted street not far from the expressway, and I could see the lighted Washington Monument in the distance. At least I recognized where I was, in case he made me get out and walk.
