Eggsecutive Orders

by Julie Hyzy

  I took in his profile, and knew that would never happen. For all our miscommunication and differences of opinion, Tom was an honorable guy.

  “Now, listen carefully, Ollie,” he said, still staring straight ahead. “I am going to tell you something that is not classified information. But it’s close. This may not answer your questions, but if you listen… carefully”-he turned to face me as he repeated the directive-“you should be satisfied. And maybe then you’ll be able to stay out of the Secret Service’s business. For once.”

  I was about to protest that I hadn’t actually done anything wrong this time, but the look in his eyes warned me to keep quiet.

  “Hypothetically,” he said, “special agents who have done field work…”

  “Like Minkus?”

  He held a finger to my lips. Despite my resolve to distance myself, I felt a familiar tingle at his touch.

  “Special agents who have done field work,” he repeated, “may, and I repeat-may-have acquired the necessary means to… dispatch… hostile individuals who intend to harm the agents.”

  “Dispatch meaning… kill?”

  He nodded.

  I thought about that. At dinner on Sunday Minkus and Cooper were the only two present who had ever done field work. “Okay.”

  “Tetrodotoxin,” he continued, assuming a bit of a teacher-tone, “which can be extracted not only from the puffer fish, but from the blue-ringed octopus, and several other species as well, is very effective in killing humans.” He raised his eyebrows. “Because tetrodotoxin is an unusual substance, a medical examiner would not know to test for it. At least not initially.”

  “I’m with you,” I said.

  His eyes registered sadness. I wished I’d chosen different words.

  “It is not unreasonable to assume that a field agent could have such a substance in his or her possession.”

  “So you think Cooper did it? You think Cooper spiked Minkus’s dinner?”

  Tom’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t answer, but I could tell that wasn’t the conclusion he wanted me to draw.

  “If we take our hypothetical agent as an example…” he said.

  Okay, he meant Minkus.

  “… and that agent believed he was being targeted…”

  “For what?”

  “That is classified.”

  I nodded. “Go ahead.”

  “If the hypothetical agent was under pressure from outside forces…” Tom gave me the evil eye. “Strong forces, say from hostile foreign governments…”

  I nodded again.

  “… we think it is likely that such an agent might have been prepared to protect himself.”

  “Then how did he end up dead?”

  He shrugged. “That’s the million-dollar question.”

  “Could he have committed suicide?”

  “That is one of several scenarios we are looking into.”

  I held Tom’s gaze for an extended moment. “That’s a nice, tidy answer,” I said. “But there’s more, isn’t there?”

  He licked his lips and shrugged. “All I can tell you is that agents all over the world-some from other countries-have the same means of killing at their disposal. It’s also possible that our hypothetical agent was assassinated by another country’s operative.”

  “ China, most likely,” I said. “Right?”

  Tom leaned back, and it was then I noticed how close he had been. “That’s as much as I can say.”

  “I take it from your reaction over the phone that this revelation about tetrodotoxin won’t make the evening news.”

  He shook his head. “We can’t let that out. Not yet. No one knows except for the president, a couple of trusted advisors…”

  I thought about Cooper and Kap. Were they the trusted advisors Tom referred to?

  “… and those of us on the PPD. I gotta tell you, Ollie: I never expected the chef to be party to this information.”

  “I overhear a lot.”

  “Sure,” he said, clearly not believing me. “Just don’t tell anyone else, okay? We’re not even telling the Minkus family, yet. Until we know for certain whether he was targeted-or whether he took his own life-we can’t let even a hint of this get out.”

  We sat in silence for a moment.

  One thing still bothered me. “What makes the medical examiner so sure this toxin didn’t come from the kitchen?”

  Tom shifted in his seat. “Hypothetically, again?”

  Could he use that word any more times tonight? “Of course.”

  “Toxic substances are tightly controlled by the government-as you might expect.” He squinted into the night. “But occasionally the government experiences a breach. And sometimes a breach isn’t discovered until an inventory is taken.”

  “The NSA is missing a supply of tetrodotoxin?”

  Tom’s jaw worked. “It may have simply been misplaced.”

  It all made sense now. “That’s why the ME knew to test for it.”

  He didn’t answer that. He didn’t have to. “Whether an individual acquired it from the government supply, or whether this is a mere clerical error, there are serious issues at stake. And a lack of competence we find unacceptable.” He looked at me. “There are already measures in place to discover what happened and to prevent any such mix-up from happening again.”

  “Wow.” There really wasn’t much else to say. “This is real, isn’t it?”

  He looked at me.

  “I mean, we hear about espionage… but there are real people who use toxins against one another. On purpose.” I shuddered. “I don’t like it.”

  “Necessary evils.”

  “Maybe,” I said.

  Again we were silent for a long moment. I broke the silence. “What are you doing for Easter tomorrow?”

  He shrugged. “Family stuff.”

  “I’m cooking at my place,” I said, by way of conciliation. “At four. In case you’re interested.”

  His eyes were unreadable. “I…” His voice made a tiny little catch. “Ollie. I think maybe we need this break.”

  I felt my heart wrench.

  He looked into my eyes. “Can I ask you something?’

  I swallowed hard and nodded.

  Tom inhaled audibly. “Last night you said that you can’t be yourself with me. Do you really believe that?”

  My mouth went dry. I wanted to avoid answering, but he stared at me with an intensity that would brook no lie. “I do, actually.”

  The expression on his face looked like somebody had punched him in the gut, but he nodded and glanced at his watch. “The Metro probably isn’t running anymore. I’ll drive you home.”

  “Thanks.”

  We made small talk as we drove, and I waited until he pulled up to my building to say, “I’m sorry.”

  He sat in the darkness for about ten seconds, staring straight ahead until he finally shook his head, and said, “No, I’m the one who’s sorry.”

  CHAPTER 23

  THE FIRST FAMILY HAD ATTENDED SERVICES the night before, and had no other official plans beyond entertaining their family for dinner at noon. An easy day, as far as we were concerned, and we planned to start preparations for the Easter meal just as soon as the morning rush was over. Cyan and I finished garnishing the breakfast plates just as Henry strode in. “Happy Easter,” I said.

  Uncharacteristically grumpy, he pointed at me. “Do you know Howard Liss?”

  “I wish I didn’t.”

  “He accosted me on my way in to work.” Henry tied on an apron and consulted our schedule as he continued, working and talking at the same time. “The man is stalking the White House. When he saw me, he wanted to know why I had been brought back here to work.”

  “That’s none of his business.”

  Henry’s face flushed. “I wanted to tell him that, but you know reporters-they’ll make it sound like you’re hiding something. I just told him that I was happy to be able to help out as we prepared for Monday’s big event.”

  I sensed
there was more.

  Henry’s eyebrows bunched together. “He asked about you. Specifically, he asked if you had any connection to Phil Cooper.”

  “He did?”

  Henry nodded. “Liss seems to believe that Cooper has a hidden agenda. He didn’t accuse the man of killing Minkus, but he came close enough for me to smell the suspicion on him. This Liss is a wild card.”

  “You’re telling me. I don’t know where he gets his information.” I voiced a tidbit that had been bothering me. “Don’t you find it odd that he never publicized the fact that Bucky is suspended?”

  Cyan shrugged. “Maybe he doesn’t know. The newspapers didn’t even mention it. I think Paul kept that information in-house.”

  “I wish all information was kept in-house,” I said.

  Henry continued, undaunted. “Liss is determined to get Cooper fired.”

  “He told you that?”

  “Close enough. I quote: ‘Our country can’t afford to clean up any more of Cooper’s messes.’ ”

  I shook my head. “We can’t worry about Liss. Or anyone else, for that matter. Our job today is simple: Easter dinner for the First Family, then the last-minute preparation for tomorrow. The sooner we get it all done, the sooner we can all get home to our own families. Now, let’s do our best to provide our president with the best dinner ever, shall we?”

  Henry’s smile was wide. “You have become the leader I expected you to, Ollie.”

  Monday morning I woke up earlier than I normally would. I couldn’t sleep, knowing how much we had to do. I had been through Easter Egg Rolls before-but this one loomed large. Short-staffed, behind schedule, and still suspected by the public, we were nonetheless expected to put on the biggest, best Egg Roll event ever. My family must have felt the same charge in the air because Mom and Nana got up with me, and bustled me out the door with good wishes for a successful day.

  “You remember how to get there?” I asked them for the tenth time.

  Mom sighed. “Yes, and before you double-check again, we do have our tickets. We will be there, Ollie. We wouldn’t miss it.”

  I couldn’t take the Metro this early, so I drove in, trying my best to enjoy the dark morning sky and the promise of possibility. I usually loved early mornings-the air smelled fresher and the world sparkled with newness-but today my worries kept me from being able to enjoy any of it.

  Once in the kitchen, there was very little chatter. After preparing the First Family’s breakfast, we set to work on everything else planned for the day. My mind was on Tom. And Bucky. And getting everything done just right and on time. The annual Egg Roll was a major Washington affair. I remembered the huge crowd waiting patiently for ticket distribution on Saturday. No one wanted to miss it.

  Activities were scheduled-and food provided-all day. In addition to the actual rolling of the eggs, there would be a kid-friendly band playing pop hits; famous politicians reading books to youngsters; tours of the gardens; and, of course, visits from the Easter Bunny and other familiar characters.

  By eight in the morning, we were ready.

  “Let’s roll ’em out,” I said.

  Henry began the arduous task of getting the hard-boiled eggs out to the South Lawn. Although he had lots of help from the wait staff, it was still a major production to get the eggs out with minimal breakage, and into place in time for the festivities to begin. We’d boiled about 15,000 eggs in total, dyeing a large portion of them. The remaining undyed eggs were set up at tables where children were offered supplies and the opportunity to decorate their own eggs, if they wished.

  The pre-dyed eggs were used in the races. Marguerite Schumacher’s team not only provided giant spoons to push the eggs down their grassy lanes, her volunteers kept order-inasmuch as that was possible-running and timing the races, and naming winners. On a day like today, however, everybody won.

  It was nice not to have to worry about that part. Once the boiled eggs were out of my kitchen, I breathed a sigh of relief. They were a huge responsibility and I was happy to deliver the precious eggs into Marguerite’s capable hands. Major hurdle number one: complete.

  But then I remembered Bucky. He had worked so hard to get these eggs done-to get them delivered-to make sure everything went smoothly. For all his complaining, the curmudgeon should be here to appreciate the fruits of his efforts. I missed him.

  With a grunt, I hoisted a lemonade dispenser onto a wheeled cart. We provided soft drinks and snacks all day. Keeping items cold, and others warm, was one of our biggest challenges. Another important concern was inventory. We wanted to have enough so as not to run out of anything. As Henry and the wait staff wheeled the third and fourth carts of eggs out the back of the White House and toward the South Lawn, I went over the menu again with Cyan. She and I had been alternating outdoor and indoor duty as we confirmed our strategy to replenish the buffet tables at regular intervals. We’d be keeping our runners busy.

  On my final trip back to the kitchen, I ran into Cyan on her way out. “We’re good to go,” I said. “Perfect timing. I was just coming to get you.”

  Together we headed to our station, just south of the East Wing. The morning was bright, the dew just beginning to evaporate. I wished for a touch more warmth today, and I was hopeful for it. The forecast called for a surge from the south. I rubbed my arms. Five more degrees would do it.

  In addition to the official Easter Bunny, who was easily recognized by the massive, beribboned basket he carried, there were at least a dozen other costumed characters strolling the grounds. But most were not ordinary rabbits. Pink-, blue-, and purple-furred, I knew these were actually Secret Service agents in disguise. Cyan and I had seen several of them donning their outfits in the Map Room-the Guzy boys among them. One of the monstrous brothers lumbered by me. With a bulletproof vest and the bright, thick hide, it had to be extra hot in that costume. And no way to even wipe his brow without removing the headpiece. Poor guy.

  “The Eagle has landed,” Henry said when he joined us. “Or should I say, the eagle’s eggs have landed?”

  There were two long buffet tables set up in the grass, about twenty feet apart. The way we had it planned, Cyan and Henry would each handle one and I’d float between them, overseeing the entire food service, allowing them breaks when needed. It would be a long day, but we’d been through this before. To be honest, we enjoyed this particular event. No one wanted to miss even a minute of the kids’ excitement.

  The buffets were set up identically. We offered simple fare-cheese sticks, salads, veggie burgers, and fruit, among other barbecue staples like grilled chicken and hot dogs. We had, in fact, worked hard to keep the menu uncomplicated but sufficient to satisfy as many tastes and dietary needs as possible.

  “Here they come,” Cyan said.

  I looked up at the wave of humanity rolling toward us. Within minutes, the lawns were packed and veteran egg-rollers made their way to the South Portico, waiting for the First Lady to make her appearance on the Truman Balcony.

  I wished I could stand up there, too, just for a moment. I wanted to be able to overlook the grounds. There were tents-giant three-pole monsters, and little one-pole pavilions-set up in strategic spots all over the Ellipse and South Lawn. The large exhibition areas would serve as main stages for the featured tween bands, and the small ones for political dignitaries who’d volunteered to read picture books aloud. There were craft tents, too. Some offered egg dyeing, others allowed kids to create cardboard bunny ears for themselves. With flowers and streamers and balloons against the backdrop of the springy green lawns, this was truly a most beautiful event.

  We always had a huge contingent of volunteers. Most of them were local teens, some were members of the Egg Board, but all were easily recognized by their white aprons and big smiles. The sun warmed my bare forearms. But I still felt an unhappy chill.

  Cyan and I were putting our finishing touches on the buffets when the music strummed to life. I heard the beginning strains of “Easter Bonnet,” and looked up to
see two full-size yellow bunnies accompanying the First Lady on the Truman Balcony.

  Those of us on staff had been told what the visiting public had not. All yellow bunnies were performers. The rest of the “hare” staff, aside from the official “Easter Bunny,” of course, were Secret Service agents in disguise. They would keep in character by mingling and interacting with the kids, but in case of trouble, the pink, purple, and blue rabbits were on call.

  The yellow bunnies on the balcony were pretending to conduct the band while the families on the ground stared up, enjoying the beautiful music and crisp spring day. When the song ended, Mrs. Campbell stepped to the microphone. She gave a short speech of welcome and reminded everyone that the races would begin when her husband blew the whistle.

  From that moment on, it was a whirlwind. My team and I worked the grills, barely getting time to look up and enjoy the show. When we did, during the infrequent lulls, I watched the little kids run around in bouncing bunny ears while happy parents looked on. Next to us, a kiddie band played nursery rhyme songs, and in spite of all I had on my mind, I found myself humming the ditties by early afternoon. Catchy little buggers.

  At some point soon, the Marine Band would be called upon to play. I thought how much Mom and Nana would be thrilled to hear them.

  I checked my watch. They should be here by now. After a quick confirmation that things had slowed down and everything was under control, I asked Henry to oversee the process while I went to find my family. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  He waved a spatula at me. “Take your time.”

  I made my way down the gentle slope toward the Ellipse, where guests were still arriving. I had told Mom that I would be stationed near the East Wing, so I hoped to find them somewhere in the approaching crowd.

  “Ollie!”

  I turned. Nana was waving-her smile as bright as the day had turned out to be. I changed directions, and was about to ask where Mom was when Nana closed the distance between us and grabbed my arm. “Guess who we ran into?”