>
Ann smiled. The issue of food regulation had been the bane of her existence for several months of heated debate with Congress, farming representatives, and the Food and Health Administration, among others. It was good to see that her work was appreciated. So far so good, today’s messages were positive. She opened another one.
<
I spell your name Kinki because you is Kinki.>>
Ann laughed. There were always a few trolls in the mix, and this one seemed harmless. She swiped her finger in the air to delete the message and move on to the next one.
<
Ann had heard similar rhetoric before, backlash over her recent remarks about the changes to the Constitution after the Big War. For every three Americans who wanted a reunited America, there was at least one American who wanted the union to stay divided. History had, on some level, repeated itself: even though the union was split in two between East and West, it was the North and the South that had a division. In general, the North wanted to reunite, while a growing number in the South wanted “less government”, believing it was better to stay separate.
She shook off her fears about a civil war, should she be successful in reuniting America. She moved on:
<
Ann chuckled, and then felt a twinge of guilt. This letter had a genuine voice to it. She selected “reply” and ignored the Identity Chip argument, which wasn’t Belinda’s real issue.
<
I’m sorry for the loss of your boyfriend. I know there is someone new in your future. Take good care of yourself, stay busy, volunteer to help others. You’ll meet the right man when you are not looking.
Sincerely, President Kinji>>
Ann glanced at the clock. She had enough time to read a few more messages. She skimmed through a collection of similar letters: cranks, critics, fans, and the occasional off-topic, but sometimes extremely articulate, political rant. She kept going until she heard an alert: a new message had been sent from a code red mailbox – President’s eyes only.
Ann blinked her eyes, daring the screen to show her the message. There it was, a code red. She opened the message.
<
<
<
<
<>
There was a shrill beep: line closed.
Ann shook her head. What could this possibly be about? She sat and stewed about it for a few minutes, and then went to one committee meeting after another. At the end of a very long day, she picked up the phone to call Serena and give her a head’s up.
Serena answered on the first ring.
“Serena? I know you’re having a grand time abroad, and I hate to interrupt, but a friend of mine will be meeting with you soon to give you a message for me.”
“Your friend has already found me, he’s standing right here.” Serena’s voice sounded stilted. “But he’s no friend, not unless you want me dead.” And with that, the call was disconnected.
Covert Coffee, Book Two of the Serena Wilcox Mysteries Dystopian Thriller Trilogy by Natalie Buske Thomas
Read the excerpt, buy the book!
Covert Coffee
Excerpt: Chapter 1
President Kinji tucked her hair behind her ears, a fruitless gesture since her signature bob was cut too short for hair to stay tucked over her ear lobes. She picked up a pencil and began chewing on the eraser, something she hadn't done since she was a child. Completely unaware of what she was doing, or the stunned looks on her staff’s faces, she gnawed at the eraser until there was nothing left of it. Then she tossed the pencil back on the desk and formulated her thoughts. Finally, she spoke.
“So who’s getting Serena out of there?” she asked. It was unclear who she was addressing, so no one answered. Ann made eye contact with each of the five young people in the room. “Get me someone.”
No one moved.
Ann said, “Get me my husband.”
Everyone moved.
Ann surveyed the now-empty Oval Office. Could it be called Oval? The room had been built like a giant ice cube. She hated it. Hated, hated, hated it. She hated everything inside the walls of the closed society known as the new White House: the walls of ivory, beige, cream, tan, sand, caramel and “linen”; the soaring modern-day-architectural cathedral ceilings that created a chill not unlike the dreary drafts felt by monks in centuries-old monasteries, but without the ethereal air; the gaudy display of wealth represented by insanely priced presidential pens and an office chair with hand-sewn upholstery worth $10,000; and most of all, the plastic people holding her sequestered in this prison.
What kept her sane were the regular coffee chats with her dear friend Serena Wilcox, someone who didn’t have a political bone in her body. Half the time, she didn’t even watch the news. She was outside of the fray, untainted by the dirty fingers of lobbyists and power-hungry star-climbers. She was a pure outsider of “The Cube”. Best of all, she was delightfully funny, unconventional, witty, and genuine. Ann had pushed hard for the friendship with Serena, as if Serena were a pet she adopted; needy and odd behavior coming from Ann, not Presidential in the slightest.
And now Ann had potentially killed her new pet. Too much affection can do that.
“It’s not your fault,” said Ted.
Ann moved away from her desk, where she had been glowering at a stack of ridiculously overpriced notepads. She had requested notepads due to her love-hate relationship with computerized planners and her lack of trust in any staffer to record her thoughts for her. Nonetheless, she despised the notepads. She could be using scratch paper like her Mom used to keep in the kitchen drawer by the phone – no need for her scribbles to take on such formality. Waste. No wonder the country was in such a mess.
“You have to know that you had nothing to do with this,” Ted tried again.
“You and I both know that if she was not a personal friend of the President, she wouldn’t be in this situation.”
Ted shrugged with the resignation that all long-time-married men know, and said something wise that few men would realize to be the best answer for this situation and many others: “What do you want me to say?”
&nb
sp; Ann mirrored Ted’s shrugging and said, “I don’t know. But while we stand here talking, Serena could be dead.”
“We know the threat is credible?” asked Ted.
“I spoke to her myself. It came from Serena’s own lips. Yes, credible.”
Ted whistled; a low steady tone he had rehearsed to perfection.
Ann cringed. His “whistle of drama” got under her skin. She cracked every knuckle on both of her hands. Then Ted promptly did the same. We’ve been married too long, she thought. She smiled.
“What? You have an idea?”
“No,” said Ann, “Just thinking that I’m glad you are here.”
“Me too. Is her husband with her?”
“I don’t know. Tom and the kids were with her, but he was there for business. He could have been at work. The kids were probably with her though. I don’t know anything, just guessing.”
“What business does he have in Germany?”
“He works civil service now. He’s there as support to a Guard unit that’s over there on a routine two-week annual deployment.”
“We’re still doing that? Even with the bases over there closed?”
“Not all are closed. And yes, we are still doing that. Serena went with him to vacation, to show the kids all the famous hot spots in Europe.”
“Any reason to suspect this is about what Tom is doing?”
“No, this is all me. Remember my driver Penny?”
“The one who wants to be a lawyer?”
“Yes. She sent me an e-mail right before this happened. She wanted to talk to someone I could trust, someone outside of The Cube.”
“And you told her to talk to Serena?”
“Yes.”
“Ah, I see.”
“What is taking them so long?” Ann glanced at the mammoth screen on the wall: no new activity. She stared at it for a few seconds, willing it with her mind to change. And it did. She and Ted raced to the center of the sensor range. Ted gestured for the menu to appear.
They read the simple message from Agent Donnelly: <
Ann raised two fingers in the air to signal the livestream function. She raised her voice even though it was sufficient to speak in normal conversational tones; she just couldn’t quite get used to not having a phone at her ear while speaking over a connection. “Agent Donnelly, you there?”
“Yes, Madam President.”
“She’s gone then? What about her husband? The kids?”
“He is with us now, and the kids.”
“Where were they? They weren’t with Serena?”
“They were at the library.”
“On the base?”
“Yes.”
“So Serena was alone then? They got her at home?”
“Yes and yes. No trace. Sorry, Madam President.”
“Nothing at all?”
“They are sweeping the apartment now, but they aren’t optimistic.”
“I understand.” Ann looked at Ted’s face for any sign that he had an idea of what to do next. He didn’t. After a long pause she resumed conversation. “Stay with Tom and the kids. Let me know if anything happens.”
“Yes, Madam President.”
“And Agent Donnelly?”
“Yes?”
“This is covert – me, you, Ted, and your team. That’s it. Got it?”
“Yes, Madam President.”
“Donnelly, your team is need-to-know.”
“Understood.”
“Follow protocol, but report to no one but me for now.”
“We have a name for this operation?”
“Call it Covert Coffee.”
Covert Coffee
Excerpt: Chapter 2
Serena Wilcox Bridges, known professionally as Serena Wilcox, toyed with the idea of eating another slice of loaded and greasy pizza. “I don’t eat pizza very often anymore.”
“We could send Jeff out to get you something else. Taco? Burger?”
“No, it’s okay, but no pizza again for me for a while.” She had to admit it was fun to have American fast food again, but she would miss her favorite Gasthaus dishes, like Rahmschnitzel; veal served with a mushroom sauce made by sautéing garlic and onions, adding red wine and heavy cream (Rahm), and allowing the sauce to thicken. Yet she felt her stomach complaining at the very thought of more rich foods. No, Rahmschnitzel would not be good after the jet lag, pizza, and kidnapping trifecta.
Serena surveyed the hotel room. It was pleasant enough, with its bland art in tasteful frames, its neutral walls, and strong smell of sanitizer, but she knew if she had a black light she would see the proof of thousands of revolting human secrets.
“When do you think my husband and kids will be told I’m okay? When can I talk to them?”
“I don’t know.”
“I want to help President Kinji in any way that I can, and I stand by that decision, but Penny told me that my family wouldn’t be left worrying about me. I’m not willing to put them through that.”
“Sorry, I don’t know. I’m just the bodyguard, and the butler I guess,” said Agent Estep as he cleared Serena’s plate away from the mahogany desk she had taken up residence in front of, having found a bit of personal space from the three men who sat in the small lounging area that contained a couch, a chair, an end table with a lamp on it, and two floor lamps.
All of the lamps were turned on, but even though the window blinds were closed, the powerful street lights in the parking lot outside the window illuminated the room, rendering the need for three lamps unnecessary. She appreciated the extra lighting – all the easier to see who she was dealing with.
Estep was a man in his early twenties; tall, dark and handsome; good looking enough to look like an actor, but humble enough to be refreshingly likeable. The only son in a family with five girls, Estep knew, respected, and enjoyed women, while also solidly bearing all of his father’s testosterone-grounded hopes for the future, fully and happily on his broad shoulders.
A man who was sensitive, funny, smart, and masculine who was still single? Not for long, thought Serena. “Can you get me in touch with Penny please?”
Serena caught Estep sizing her up, and he apparently deemed her to be trustworthy. “Yeah, I can do that.” He pressed a couple of numbers and gave Serena his phone.
“Penny? This is Serena. Yes, I’m fine. One thing though, you said that Tom and the kids wouldn’t be left worried sick, wondering what happened to me. Yes, I understand, but that was my one condition when I agreed to do this. Yes, I can see that. Alright, if that’s the best you can do. Thank you, Penny.”
Estep took his phone back and raised his eyebrows. “Well?”
“She says they’ll have to snatch Tom and the kids. It’s the only way to protect them, and the only way to give them a message about me. She said it would have been easier if we’d been together when you took me, but now they’ll have to do this separately.”
“I see. I have no information about that.”
“They won’t be brought here. Too risky that someone might follow them here. Best to bring them somewhere else.”
“Those guys are good. Your family will be okay, don’t worry.”
“Thanks Estep.”
“And I doubt you’ll be apart for long.”
“I hope not. When can I get to work?”
“I can brief you now if you are ready.”
“Yes, now is good.” Serena’s voice revealed her surprise.
“I know, briefings are usually not delivered by the butler, but I’m a little higher up on the chain than I’ve led you to believe.” Estep winked at her, a move that would have made a younger woman blush. Serena simply felt old and tired.
What am I caught up in? I should be home with my family, she thought. She wondered if anyone had checked on the dog to see if he needed fresh water. They didn’t get him an ISO pet microchip, jump through hoops for a USDA certified veterinary form to obtain a pet passport, and fly him all the way to Germany o
nly to have him die of dehydration! Aloud she said, “Please fill me in.”
Estep folded his long lanky frame into the only available chair and pulled data up on his phone. “Look at this face. Ring any bells?”
Serena glanced at the photo. “Is it supposed to?”
“No, didn’t think you’d know him.”
“Who is he?”
“He is the man behind a lobbyist group. He’s not happy about new legislation on the table.” Estep pulled out a slim silver stylus and selected another photo from database. He placed the phone into her hand. “Do you know this face?”
Serena glanced at the photo, did a double-take, and studied the photo more closely. “I think I do. He’s older now than when I last saw him, but I think this is the same boy. I met him in Minnesota. He was a child prodigy, a computer genius, nice kid. What does he have to do with this?” Serena’s curiosity was now piqued enough that her fatigue was forgotten.
“Nothing, but we’ve been following him, and grooming him to be of help to us in the future.”
“I see. And the future is today?”
“Yes, we think so. He can help you find the people involved, track them via satellite and the typical footprints, and hook you up with any other technology you might need.”
“I understand. But I still have no idea why I’m pretending to be kidnapped. Why did I tell Ann – President Kinji – that someone would kill me? I thought you said that she specifically asked for my help, so why doesn’t she know what’s going on? And, by the way, I don’t know what’s going on either.”
“The President was warned by one of her staff that security has been compromised.” Estep stopped talking and stared at her face for a long moment. “Someone from the inside is involved.”
“Yes, I understand what compromised means.”
“That’s why she asked for you.”
“But why the kidnapping if she asked for me?”
“To protect the president. We know she trusts you, and we respect her judgment. So we got you. And it’s in her best interest if she doesn’t know what you are doing on her behalf.”
Angels Mark (The Serena Wilcox Mysteries Dystopian Thriller Trilogy) Page 18
