by Josie Brown
“Emma, do me a favor and see if you can pull up anything on the name ‘El Maestro.’ It might be a Spanish code name.”
“On it,” she murmurs.
Just then, Hugo comes in with my cellphone. “Thank you,” I say sweetly.
In unison, Emma and Hugo answer, “You’re welcome,” albeit Hugo’s gruff reply indicates that he’s somewhat suspicious of my kindness.
That’s what he gets for eavesdropping.
“Mom’s on the phone!” Jeff’s shout reverberates through my cellphone, and possibly through all of Hilldale as well.
Just hearing his voice makes me tear up. “Tell me about your week,” I implore him.
“I was the starting pitcher in the two games you and Dad missed.” Yes, there is a tinge of melancholy in his voice. “The last one was a no-hitter—”
“Let me speak to Mommy,” Trisha begs. “Please, please, please! I’ll let you have my second piece of chocolate cake!”
I sigh. “Aunt Phyllis is allowing you to have two pieces of cake?”
“Let me put you on speaker,” Jeff suggests. “You can yell at her instead of us.”
“Great, please do.” How I long to hear my sweet aunt’s voice.
“Don’t listen to a word they say!” Aunt Phyllis warns me. “They begged, and I caved.”
“She’s fibbing,” Evan calls out from the background. “She’s trying to buy our good behavior.”
“A lot of good all this cake is doing for that goal,” she retorts.
“Mom, why haven’t you guys sent us any selfies?” Mary asks.
“We’ve…we’ve been doing other stuff.” I try to keep from choking on my lie.
“I’ll bet!” Jeff makes kissing sounds. Then: “Ouch! Evan smacked me in the back of my head!”
“Good, because someone needs to smack some manners into you,” Aunt Phyllis pipes up.
“By the way,” Mary buts in, “Babs wants to know if I can sleep over at her place tomorrow night. She asked Wendy’s mom, too—”
“I’d prefer you stay home.” If I could, I’d never let any of my loved ones out of my sight. “Tell you what: why don’t you see if their moms will allow them to sleep over at our place instead?”
“All-right!” Aunt Phyllis crows. “Par-TAY!”
“Then I guess you wouldn’t mind if I have a few of the guys from my lacrosse team stop by too—” Evan declares.
“Not at all,” I counter, “as long as they do so tonight, as opposed to tomorrow evening. It’s not going to be that kind of sleepover, understood, young man?”
Evan sighs. “Yeah, okay.”
“Am I right, Aunt Phyllis?”
“Yeah.” She sounds even more disappointed than him. Under her breath, she mutters, “Party pooper.”
“Mommy, where’s Daddy?” Trisha asks. “Can we speak to him?”
I stay silent for so long that soon the kids are asking if I’m still on the line.
“Yes, yes, I’m here! He’s…he’s still on the beach. Had he known I’d be so lonely that I’d need to call you, I’m sure he would have come inside too.”
“Can’t you go get him for us? Please? Pretty please—”
“Mom, are you and Dad going to be home in time for my next game?” Jeff interrupts. “It’s the day after tomorrow, at four o’clock.”
“We’ll…we’ll certainly try.” No tears! Change the topic…
Mary does it for me. Admittedly, it’s just as sobering. “Hey Mom, did you hear about Daniel Parker’s death? Right on the red carpet, for the latest Lorne movie! How could that happen? He was so young!—”
Hugo gives me the high sign. Eric is off the phone, and wants to discuss my assignment for tomorrow.
My good-byes are filled with instructions: Listen to your aunt, feed the dogs, and no boys at the sleepover.
As I hang up, Trisha is sobbing over how much she misses me.
Oh, my sweet baby, the feeling is mutual.
If this is how empty I feel just saying goodbye on the phone, I wonder if I’ll be able to keep it together should the dreaded day comes in which I have to tell them that Jack is dead.
When I get off the phone, Eric summons me to his study—presumably to chastise me for eavesdropping.
Instead, I’m met with one of his broad benign smiles. “I’m sure that you’re aware of the fact that your very dear friend, President Chiffray, is still here in California for a supposedly private summit with a few of his closest Middle Eastern friends.”
Eric’s reminder turns my blood cold. “It’s why you’re here in the first place, isn’t it? And why you planted Eileen and Frannie in the White House?” I retort.
“Yes, well, now that both of my colleagues were cut down in the prime of their lives—thanks to you, if not exactly by your hand—a little restitution is in order, don’t you think?”
“How, exactly?”
“I need you to retrieve something from Eileen’s desk within the walls of Lion’s Lair.”
“That’s impossible! In the first place, no unauthorized personnel are being allowed in or out of Lion’s Lair while the summit is in progress. And secondly, I’m supposed to be on my honeymoon. Both POTUS and FLOTUS know that! They were at my wedding, or have you forgotten?”
“No, my pet, I haven’t. And it also has not slipped my mind that your esteemed president has a deep and sincere affection for you.” Eric’s hand grazes my shoulder with a gentle wistfulness.
I can barely quell my sudden urge to wrench his arm out of its socket.
Think. Of. Jack…
I take a deep breath before speaking. “What is your ridiculous plan to get me into Lion’s Lair?”
“It’s quite simple. Tell the president’s aide—what is his name again? Oh yes, Todd Courtland—that you’ve come to retrieve something you lost in Lee’s office, and you just now remembered Eileen mentioning that she’d found it. This, in fact.”
He holds up my antique necklace—an heirloom handed down to me by my mother. Not only had I worn it during the births of each of my children, it hung on my neck during my wedding ceremony.
He must have stolen it out of my suitcase while I was doing his bidding these past few days.
I snatch it out of his hand. “How dare you!”
“Please, Mrs. Craig, calm down.”
“I’m losing patience with your little games! This will be my fifth trial. You promised I’d have Jack after four.”
“This isn’t a game! Surely you know I’d use everything at my disposal to infiltrate the summit”—he leans in and hisses—“just as you’ll do everything it takes to bring your husband home, safe and sound.”
He knows I can’t argue with that.
My silence earns me a nod. “You’ll plant it in the top left drawer of Ms. Woodley’s desk. It gives you the excuse you need to open the drawer, where you will also retrieve a small pale blue envelope, which you will bring back to me.”
“Why? What does it contain?”
He chuckles. “The secrets of the universe, of course! Now, get going. Gunter is bringing around the town car as we speak.”
“Gunter—again? Ack! He’s such a bore! Why can’t Varick drive me? That way, if we get stuck on the 405, at least he can bring me up to speed on the latest fashion trends.”
“Varick is busy running a little errand for me.” He shrugs as if it is of no importance.
“We haven’t been thrown together to amuse each other, Donna. You know that as well as me. Let’s not pretend otherwise. Otherwise, one of us will live to regret it.”
His way of showing me that I’m dismissed is to turn and face the window.
Works for me, asshole.
I saunter out, as if the decision to go was mine all along. If I could, I’d run out of there.
Gunter stands outside my bedroom door while I change into something fitting for my unexpected visit to Lion’s Lair: nothing too fancy; a little black dress will do.
I wait until I’ve entered my bathroom an
d turned on the faucet before asking Ryan, “Did you hear all that?”
“Yes,” Ryan murmurs into my ear. “I’m sure that NSA operatives have already scrubbed Eileen’s desk from top to bottom.”
“Would a simple sealed envelope have drawn their attention?” I ask.
“Possibly. If not and it’s still there, I’ll have it retrieved and assessed. In fact, Arnie is on his way there now.” He hesitates, then adds, “I’ll also inform POTUS of your itinerary, so that he’s prepared.”
“Not too prepared, I hope,” I warn him. “It’s got to look like a surprise. Otherwise, Gunter will be suspicious, not to mention we don’t know if there are other Quorum operatives embedded there.” I’m specifically referring to Babette, and he knows it.
“Duly noted,” Ryan promises. “If the envelope is there, you’ll have to hand it off to Arnie, so that any needed analysis of its intel can be done on the fly by Arnie and Emma—that is before you turn it over to Eric.”
“Is that even possible?” I wonder.
“Depends on what it is. If it’s a thumb drive, a microdot, even a slip of paper with an encrypted message—if they can hack it, they’ll then scrub the data, and perhaps plant false intel.”
“A little payback?”
“Exactly. In any event, they’ll come prepared.”
“We’re already on our way to Lion’s Lair,” Emma assures us. “You know, I’ll bet Varick is going to retrieve Jack.”
I pray she’s right. Still, I have to ask: “Why do you say that?”
“Because of the angry conversation he was having on the phone with this El Maestro person just before Varick caught you listening outside his door. And now he’s got Varick going who knows where—”
“It’s a possible lead,” Ryan concedes. “Don’t worry, Donna. Abu will be driving the limousine summoned to pick up Varick. I’ll have him plant a tracer on him. That way, if he’s anywhere near Jack, we’ll be there when he needs us.”
Yes, Jack needs us.
He needs me.
All the more reason why my assignment must succeed.
Apparently, Ryan feels the same way. “In fact, Abu will shadow Varick to his final destination.”
Maybe by the time I come back, Jack will be here too.
As is the West Coast White House’s protocol, Gunter and I are stopped at the guard station at the base of Lion’s Lair’s private road. The mention of my name elicits raised brows from the guards. Obviously, my reputation precedes me.
It also causes them to search the trunk of the car, and to scrutinize Gunter more closely.
He scowls back at them. Should his ugly mug already be in the NSA’s facial recognition program, I may have to duck and cover when the bullets go flying.
But no, he merits no more than a shrug. Apparently, Eileen was successful in keeping her Quorum associates under the radar because we’re waved through the gate.
The climb to the top of Hilldale’s largest peak is a good five minutes. As we near Lion’s Lair, I look down the hill. Spotting my house, I blow it a kiss. I wish the children had been outside. I would have loved to see them.
Who knows when the next time will be?
I’m sure Jack feels the same way.
The guard at the grand estate’s second entry post gives us a cursory glance before waving us up to the circular driveway, where we are met by yet another phalanx of Secret Service agents.
No doubt, the discovery that the president’s personal secretary and his daughter’s nanny were spies—just one day prior to the Middle East summit—has kept everyone on high alert.
My car door is opened by one of the detail. But before Gunter can get out of the car, an agent places both hands on the door. “Mrs. Craig has clearance, not you.”
While Gunter fumes, I run up the steps.
Todd Courtland, one of Lee’s administration’s aides, meets me at the threshold. He also happens to be POTUS’s liaison to the National Security Council. “Donna? Well, isn’t this a welcome surprise!” He clasps my hands in his. “I’d thought you’d still be on your honeymoon.”
“I’m here to pick up something I left in…in Lee’s office.”
“Oh?” Todd frowns as he takes a quick glance at his watch. “He’s tied up right now in a very important meeting—”
“I’ll only be a minute. Truly, you don’t have to disturb him—”
“The way he feels about you? I’d be fired if I didn’t.” I don’t like the broad wink he gives me. “Follow me. You can wait in Eileen’s—I mean, the outer office.”
As we head down the hall, I ask, “Has the president found a replacement for her?”
Todd rolls his eyes. “Not yet. As you can imagine, her—let’s just call it her untimely demise—came at a very inopportune time. I’ve picked up some of the slack, but for lack of a better term, Eileen knew where all the bodies were buried.”
And buried a few too. I was almost one of them.
A moment later, we’re in the late secretary’s office and I stand by the desk while he knocks on Lee’s door.
No answer.
“Ah, well.” He shrugs. “The president and his guests were supposed to take a break right about now, but you know how these things can be.”
“Long-winded, to say the least.”
He chuckles. “That’s putting it mildly. He must still be tied up. Let me check the grand salon to see where they stand.”
I wait until he’s at least fifty feet down the hall before moving to the back of Eileen’s desk.
The top left drawer opens without a problem. It contains the usual office supplies: pens, a letter opener, scissors, paper clips, pads, a bottle of White-Out, but nothing that looks like a small blue envelope.
I tug the drawer so that it opens even more so that I can place my hand all the way to the back—
Ah, here it is.
It’s just large enough for a greeting card, and just as slim, which tells me it holds nothing more than a piece of paper.
I’ve just slipped it into the pocket of my dress when I hear him say, “Donna?”
I turn around to face Lee.
By the time he walks over to me, I can extend my hand forward.
He takes it, not to shake, but to hold, as old friends do.
He strokes it gently with his thumb, not as an old friend, but as an adoring admirer.
He doesn’t drop it when he hears Todd exclaim, “Oh…Mr. President! Here you are. I went to find you so that I could tell you that Mrs. Craig is here.”
“Mrs. Craig…” The reminder of my marital status darkens the gleam in Lee’s eyes. “Thanks, Todd.” He dismisses his aide with a wave of his hand. “We’ll be in my office. Make sure our other guests have everything they need.”
Lee never lets go of my hand. Instead he takes it to steer me into the private office, and closes the door.
The smirk on Todd’s face should shame me, but it doesn’t. I mean, why should it? Lee and I have never been intimate. We’re merely friends.
We both know it, although Lee has yet to admit it to himself.
Lee says nothing. Instead, he stares down at me.
When he lets go of my hand, it’s to embrace me. “I’m sorry about Jack,” he whispers.
That does it. The dam breaks and my tears flood my eyes before cascading down my cheeks and into my mouth, where I’m babbling on about how worried I am for him, and how scared I am that he’ll never come home to us, and how much I miss him and need to feel him next to me.
He holds me as if he doesn’t ever want to let me go. “Donna, anything you need—for you and for Jack—it’s at your disposal. All you have to do is ask. If you want me to have the CIA grab Eric for extraordinary rendition—”
“Thanks, Lee. I appreciate it.” I nod as I gulp down my sobs. “But we can’t now—at least, not until we know where Jack is, and can get him to safety. For all we know, Eric has ordered his captors to expect timely check-in calls. If he doesn’t make it—”
The thought that the call will never come brings even more tears.
This time, Lee’s lips graze my cheeks—first one, then the other—as if willing my tears away.
He has to stop. He must know this too. But because he doesn’t, I start to say something—
Just as his lips slide to mine.
“Talk about a short honeymoon.” The sound of Babette’s voice has the opposite effect on Lee, causing his hands to drop to his sides, and his eyes to turn to steel.
She moves closer. “Don’t mind Lee, Donna. My morning sickness has put him in heat. Unfortunately for him, after all this country has been through, the last thing it needs is a president with a wandering eye. Quite pathetic, don’t you think?”
I take a step back. “Lee was just comforting me about…a family matter.”
She chortles mirthlessly. “Isn’t that Jack’s job?” She glances around the room. “Where is he, anyway?”
I stare at her, waiting for some subliminal clue that she already knows the answer to that.
Lee doesn’t have my patience. He jerks her by the arm toward the door. “Our guests are waiting for us, dear.”
Her glare never leaves me. “What…we’re supposed to leave her here, in your private office, all by her little lonesome? Why, aren’t you a trusting soul!”
“Unlike you, she’s earned it.”
A slap could not have hurt her more. His retort brings tears to her eyes.
She wrenches her arm from his hand.
The click of her heels reverberates like shotgun blasts as she runs down the hall.
Angered and shamed, Lee drops his head.
When I take my leave, I kiss his cheek.
“Where are you guys?” I whisper.
“I’m in the catering van outside the kitchen door,” Emma replies. “I’ve tapped into the security cams.”
“And I’m…I’m…right behind you!” Arnie sounds out of breath. He also sounds as if he’s walking on his hands and knees.
I glance down the long hallway. Nope, nobody there. “I’m almost at the front door,” I warn him.
“And I’m almost…!” As Arnie slams his fist into something metallic, it echoes in my ear. “Damn! Dead end!”
