The Housewife Assassin's Horrorscope

by Josie Brown

  Sadly, there are negative aspects too: those born under these signs have a tendency to micromanage the actions of others. Also, any slight cuts deeply.

  If your sign falls into a gender category that doesn’t sound at all like you, no need to worry! Just because you don’t recognize the bad things that come with your gender sign doesn’t mean others haven’t felt it.

  Rest assured: somewhere along the line, you dealt it.

  We reach Hilldale with no time to spare for our meeting with President Edmonton at Lee Chiffray’s palatial estate: Lion’s Lair was built on the crest of the hill that gave the town its name.

  Mary is waiting on the front porch. She has Nicky in her lap. Emma sits beside her. When our car turns into the driveway, Mary hands Nicky to Emma, leaps up, and runs down the steps.

  By the time she reaches us, Arnie and Evan are already out of the car. But before Jack and I drive away, she taps on my window. “We need to talk.”

  I shrug. “Agreed. Unfortunately, I’m late for a meeting. We’ll talk when I get back.”

  “Evan may be gone by then! He’s got to leave for the airport in half an hour if he’s going to catch his flight back to the Bay Area—”

  “Evan and I have already talked,” I reply stiffly. “Frankly, I didn’t like what he had to say.”

  “But—”

  “Mary, we have to go now. I can’t be late for a meeting with the president.” I roll up the window.

  Mary stands there as Jack rolls the car out of the driveway. Her glare is starred with tears.

  Jack sighs mightily—his signal that I might have handled things differently.

  Maybe he’s right. Then again, he’s never been a mother whose daughter is contemplating sex for the first time— perhaps for a very wrong reason:

  To hold onto a guy.

  Even if he’s someone as wonderful as Evan.

  Security at Lion’s Lair is heavier than I’ve seen it in a while: that is to say, since Lee chose to leave the presidency as opposed to being impeached for collusion with Russia.

  Lee was set up by a long-time Russian asset: Randall Hart, owner of the worldwide news broadcast conglomerate Hartland Media. Randall had help on the inside. The First Lady, Babette Breck Chiffray, was the Quorum’s last leader standing—

  Until she was incinerated in the presidential motorcade. She was riding in the vehicle meant for her husband.

  Ironically, she’d rigged it to blow, so I guess it’s proof that karma’s a bitch.

  Edmonton’s Secret Service detail motions us to a parking spot on the far side of the circular driveway.

  On the front portico, we go through the pat-down protocol before being allowed into the foyer, where Lee’s assistant, Eve, awaits us. When I shake her hand, she clasps mine with both of hers. Always a loyal Girl Friday, she was heartbroken when Lee resigned. She never doubted his innocence. Nor did she trust Babette. I’ve no doubt that Eve realized Lee resigned as opposed to calling out his wife as the real traitor.

  I gave Lee the evidence he needed. Still, he blamed himself for being stupid enough to fall for her in the first place.

  It’s the country’s loss. Lee’s immense wealth made him immune to being bought by special interests.

  In contrast, Bradley Edmonton is the ultimate political animal. When he was the party’s Senate Majority Leader, only bills favoring the party’s political donors and had the needed fifty-one votes to pass made it to the floor. Otherwise, they were buried in committee.

  When Lee’s first vice president resigned after his wife’s tragic death, Lee was forced by his party to select Bradley Edmonton to replace him.

  In other words, both resignations benefited Bradley greatly.

  Eve escorts us into the anteroom outside Lee’s home office, where Ryan is already waiting. He’s talking to another man: late twenties, tall and slim, with a mop of blond hair. His deep-set eyes squint when he listens intently, as he does now to Ryan.

  Our boss nods in my direction. “Jack and Donna Craig, this is Mario Martinez, President Edmonton’s Chief of Staff.”

  Mario shakes my hand first. His grip is firm. His smile is warm.

  As Eve takes her place behind her desk, Mario walks over to discuss a directive from POTUS. This gives Ryan a second to lean over and murmur, “Emma tells me you’ve had an interesting morning.”

  Jack smiles.

  “Branham may be interested in it,” Ryan whispers back.

  In other words, Ix-Nay on mentioning it to OTUS-Pay.

  We nod ever so slightly to signal we’ve heard him loud and clear.

  After tapping her earbud, Eve declares, “The presidents will see you now.”

  Plural.

  It still breaks my heart that Lee had to resign.

  They are laughing as we enter.

  Not just Lee, DIO Branham, and Edmonton, but also a woman I can’t identify, though she looks familiar.

  Lee and his guests are no longer in golfing attire, but they are comfortable enough. The men wear khakis and button-down shirts. Lee’s shirt, blue broadcloth, is rolled up at the sleeves.

  The woman’s ash blond hair falls just above her shoulders. She wears navy slacks. They hug her slim physique like a glove, as does her cream-colored tucked-in silk blouse. Its top two buttons are open, revealing a cream tank top with navy pinstripes.

  It also reveals a delicate web of wrinkles and a few tiny sunspots—the only giveaways that she is older than I would have previously suspected: maybe mid-thirties, considering the smooth skin of her face. Now I’d guess her to be over forty.

  Lee has allowed Edmonton to sit at the desk. He and Branham share one of the two large sofas flanking the desk, whereas the woman has taken one of the two chairs opposite it.

  “Come on in, folks,” Edmonton declares, although he doesn’t move out from behind the desk. Instead, he waves us into the room. “So glad you could join us while we recover from Lee’s spectacular golf game—albeit on a course he designed himself.”

  This elicits another round of chuckles as Lee and Branham stand.

  Since I’ve entered first, I’m the first to shake Edmonton’s hand, then Branham’s. Lee foregoes decorum, leaning in to peck my cheek instead.

  From the grin rising on Edmonton’s lips, this familiarity is not lost on him.

  Nor does it escape the woman’s attention. She scrutinizes me that much closer. But by the time I proffer my hand, she’s lifted her lips into an inscrutable smile.

  Edmonton declares, “Congresswoman Elle Grisham, this is Donna Craig, Ryan Clancy, and Jack Craig.”

  The crispness in his tone signals her that she need not know more.

  As Ryan and Jack exchange handshakes with her and the others, I rack my brain as to which state she represents. Somewhere in the Midwest…Missouri? No. Kansas, maybe?

  As if reading my mind, Edmonton adds, “Congresswoman Grisham hails from the great state of Iowa. She serves on the Permanent Select Committee on Intelligence. She is also the ranking member on the Homeland Security Committee.”

  She rolls her eyes at the “ranking member” moniker before shifting a sympathetic glance at Lee. His political scandal caused his party to lose both houses of Congress in the recent mid-term elections.

  Congresswoman Grisham rises. “I’ll take my leave now, gentleman—and Mrs. Craig.” She winks at Lee. “Since you have home course advantage, I look forward to picking your brain over dinner as to how I can lower my handicap on your course, should I be invited back.”

  “Anyone kind enough to gift me a golf club that once belonged to Bobby Jones has an open invitation.” Lee points to the present, now placed on the shelf behind his desk.

  Edmonton waits until she walks out and closes the door behind her before retaking his seat. Only then do the rest of us follow suit. I opt for the couch opposite Branham and Lee. Ryan does the same. Jack takes the seat vacated by Congresswoman Grisham.

  With a nod, Edmonton cedes the floor to Branham.

  �
��Ryan, I gave you and your team a brief description of what you’ll be facing on, er, Operation Flame.” Branham winces at the name. “As we’ve known for quite some time, our energy infrastructure has become a primary target for hostile cyber-actors. In the past two years, more than a million probes into our nation’s utility systems have been detected and deterred. They have come from every government hostile to our national security: the Russians, the Chinese, the North Koreans, the Iranians—”

  “And folks, as bad as the attacks were here in Los Angeles, the perpetrators did even more damage in other cities,” Edmonton interjects. “Already in Houston, there are shortages of potable water, which means the city is unable to treat sewage. There’s been a significant out-migration of residents.” He frowns. “The hit on commerce will be devastating—and inestimable.”

  “Our utilities aren’t prepared to withstand these attacks,” Lee adds. “They are also exhausting our country’s fuel reserves. Even before this, last season’s hurricanes and flooding put our critical infrastructure at crisis mode. The same first responders—police, firefighters, the National Guard—are up against a relentless onslaught.”

  Lee shifts his gaze to Edmonton. Within weeks of taking office, Edmonton loosened EPA restrictions on the fossil fuel companies—not surprising, considering how much their lobbying firms have donated to him during his years in the Senate.

  Edmonton shrugs off Lee’s glare. “This time, the Russians have gone too far. This attack on our largest cities is an act of war,” he declares coldly.

  “I guess this is our new reality,” I murmur.

  “Not necessarily, Mrs. Craig,” Edmonton counters. “As we speak, Homeland Security has presented our nation’s utility companies with a security mandate that will assure our grid is protected from further outside interference.”

  Branham opens his mouth to say something but then stops himself. Finally, he divulges, “In this case, the attacks were triggered locally.”

  Edmonton frowns. “This is new intel?”

  Branham nods slowly.

  “Thanks for the heads up,” Edmonton’s flippancy doesn’t hide his anger at Branham’s apparent reluctance to mention that one of the saboteurs’ calls was intercepted.

  “Acme’s mission is to expose any embedded saboteurs?” Jack reasons.

  Branham nods.

  “Why not make this an FBI investigation?” Ryan asks.

  “Suppose a ‘saboteur’ is some high ranking utility official who was being blackmailed—or worse yet paid off by an enemy state?” Lee asks. “Politically speaking, the optics would be awful. The public’s trust in the current system will be eroded beyond repair. And since the public utility lobbies grease enough Congressional palms to keep any competition at bay, it’s best that no intelligence agencies lead the mission.”

  He doesn’t have to say what we’re all thinking: Should any resolution involve an extermination or two, POTUS can claim clean hands.

  “Your point is well taken,” Edmonton declares dryly. His way of dismissing us is to glance down at his watch. “Thank you, gentleman—and Mrs. Craig.”

  As we rise, Ryan murmurs to Branham, “Sir, perhaps you’d care to walk us out?”

  Edmonton glances up sharply. “No need for a huddle, Mr. Clancy. You’re among friends here.”

  Ryan keeps his poker face in place, but Branham is barely able to stifle his frown. If I were to guess, I’d say he’d prefer to filter any and all intel before it reaches Edmonton’s ears, especially any chatter coming from outside sources.

  Acme is as far outside as it gets.

  Catching my gaze, Lee’s lids fall to half-mast. He doesn’t fool me. His benign smile indicates that he’s enjoying Edmonton’s peevishness—a small consolation, considering that Lee’s downfall was the best thing that ever happened to DC’s most notorious political animal.

  Ryan sits again, a signal that Jack and I should do the same.

  “Gentlemen, we’ve come across intel that a U.S. military operation may have been jeopardized—something called Operation Horoscope.”

  “I’ve never heard of it,” Edmonton declares. He glares at Branham, daring him to admit to another exclusion.

  Branham furrows his brow. “That’s impossible! Operation Horoscope was shelved a couple of years back…” He glances at Lee for confirmation.

  “And for a good reason,” Lee adds. “I killed it my first month in office. It was a boondoggle that cost the American taxpayer far too much for far too long.”

  Edmonton frowns. “A military operation?”

  Lee nods. “A leftover from the Administration before mine.”

  “A dinosaur,” Edmonton scoffs.

  Ryan nods. “No problem. Then as far as Acme is concerned, it’s dead and buried.”

  “Lilith too?” The question slips out before I can stop it.

  Edmonton looks up sharply. “What did you say?”

  “I…nothing, really.”

  Foot. In. Mouth…

  His icy blue eyes drill into me: “Indulge me.” Hidden deep in the velvet recesses of his tone is a menace that pierces like a dagger.

  “It’s just…Well, you see, the chatter we intercepted mentioned a person who…” I hope my squinting gives the impression that I’m having a hard time remembering what was said, as opposed to the fact that I’m lying through my teeth. “…That is, a Russian asset who may have been embedded for quite some time.”

  Edmonton leans back slowly. “What does—did this Russian asset have to do with Operation Horoscope?”

  “Apparently, she compromised it somehow,” Ryan explains. “Unfortunately, the chatter wasn’t specific.”

  Edmonton lets that sink in. Finally, he swings around to Lee. “What was Operation Horoscope, exactly?”

  Lee closes his eyes for a moment to think, then says. “If I remember it was a missile program.” He turns to Branham. “Am I right?”

  Branham shakes his head. “Sorry, sir. I only joined your administration in its second year. Before that, I was the CIA Bureau Director in London. If this Operation Horoscope was classified Eyes Only, I might not have been cleared for it.” He turns to Edmonton. “If you’re interested, I can do some digging.”

  Edmonton shrugs. “Not important. I’m sure President Chiffray had a good reason to kill the project.” He smirks, as if making a joke at his host’s expense.

  Lee doesn’t seem at all annoyed. So, why am I?

  “However the thought that there may be some mole in my administration is worrisome.” Edmonton tents his fingers as he thinks. “Lilith…So, the supposed mole is a woman?” He looks over at me to confirm this.

  “The chatter indicated as much,” Ryan declares. “I wish there was more I could tell you.”

  But there is.

  Like the fact that the “chatter” was a letter to Evan. And that it specifically mentioned an act of treason by a government contractor.

  Worse still, Horoscope may still be in play.

  So, why don’t Branham and Ryan want Edmonton to know any of this?

  Jack’s eye catches mine. He purses his lips: his way of telling me to hold my powder.

  My way of feigning nonchalance is to look down at my nails.

  Goodness, I could use a mani-pedi.

  Lee stands. “The staff will be summoning us to dinner soon. Ryan, Craigs, I’ll walk you out.”

  Branham’s cell phone is buzzing. He pulls it out of his pocket. “If I’m to catch my flight back to DC, I should take off too.” He looks over at Edmonton, “Unless you have anything else for me, sir.”

  President Edmonton shakes his head. “No. You’re excused.”

  We make it to the door when POTUS says, “Mr. Craig, would you mind staying behind? There is a separate matter I’d like to discuss with you.”

  Jack shows his surprise at this request with a mere blink.

  “Not to worry. I’ll drive Donna home,” Ryan assures him.

  By the time Jack closes the door behind us, I’m
about to burst. Still, I hold my cool until Lee, Branham, Ryan, and I are in the elevator before I hiss, “What the hell just happened in there?”

  “I’ll explain when we get into the car,” Ryan promises.

  “You can still give me a lift to the airport, right?” Branham asks him. When Ryan nods, Branham adds, “Great. I’ll grab my bags and meet you at your car.” He smiles at Lee. “Although, as lousy as my golf game was today, I might as well just leave my clubs here. Feel free to toss them in the trash.”

  Lee chuckles. “You just need a little practice. Edmonton never misses a weekend on some course. Try cozying up to him on the links. It may just save your job.”

  “Not if he finds out Horoscope is still in play.”

  “He already knows it,” Lee retorts.

  “Jeez, guys!” I mutter. “Okay, now you’re just driving me crazy!”

  “Short ride,” Ryan murmurs.

  That earns him a pinch.

  He pats my arm. He knows he’s the one who has a lot of explaining to do.

  It takes Branham all of five minutes before he joins us at the car.

  He could have taken an extra ten. Lee seems in no hurry to get back to his guests. Besides, Jack is still in with POTUS. “I don’t want to barge in on any bromance going on between those two,” he teases.

  “Edmonton isn’t exactly Jack’s type,” I assure him. “So, should we take bets on what they’re discussing?”

  “My guess: Lilith,” Ryan says.

  I roll my eyes. “Are you implying that he’ll break with your code of silence on that subject?”

  Ryan shakes his head. “Nope. Jack is smart enough to say as little as possible—and just listen.”

  “I’m only surprised that Edmonton didn’t ask you to stay behind instead,” Lee teases.

  “She’d be the wrong choice for what he has in mind,” Branham replies.

  Curiouser and curiouser. “Oh yeah? And why is that?”

  “This conversation is for the drive home,” Ryan declares.

  That’s my cue to get into the car. Lee opens the back seat door. Before I slide in, he kisses my forehead. “Drop by later in the week if you have time.”