Abby laughed and said, “I’d pay damn good money to see that.”
Abby tucked the drive into her pocket and made her way back to District 1, shutting herself up in her room for the rest of the night as she began to run different plans through her head. She had a general idea of what she wanted to do with that drive from Jay, but she needed to hammer out the details. Derrick was working out at the gym, and had an early wake-up call with his squad the next day, so Abby knew she wouldn’t see him until the next night.
On the day of the banquet, Abby and Derrick had the day off, and they spent their morning together working out, getting breakfast, and then just hanging out alone in Abby’s room, watching a movie from her couch.
“Hard to believe it’s been a whole year,” Abby said, leaning against Derrick and resting her head on his chest. Indeed, she was still somewhat surprised that Derrick had stuck around for this long. She assumed a guy like him would eventually break up with a girl who made him go this long without any real intimacy.
Well, that wasn’t exactly true anymore. In the last couple of months, Abby had relaxed her standards even further, and she and Derrick had done some fooling around in very little clothing. She did this to keep up appearances, as if their relationship was slowly progressing in terms of physical affection, but still they had not had sex. That was the line Abby wasn’t going to cross.
Of course, she told Hiamovi nothing of just how intimate she’d been with Derrick. Abby was only doing this for the good of the mission, and he wouldn’t understand. Besides, he’d already signed off on Abby kissing Derrick, which is technically all she was doing anyway, just with quite a bit more groping and less clothing than he probably imagined.
Sometimes she did feel guilty, but how could she be blamed, she asked herself. She’d been undercover for over a year, pretending to be the girlfriend of an extremely good-looking young man for most of that time. Is it really so bad to make out with him now and then? If she hadn’t, maybe he would not have invited her to the banquet tonight, and they wouldn’t have this opportunity to deal a major blow to the government.
And it’s not like she was having sex with Derrick, which she definitely could have done if she’d wanted to. Hiamovi should be thankful she had the self-control to fight back those primal urges for this long.
“You still there?” Derrick asked.
“Hm? Sorry, what?” Abby replied.
Derrick chuckled and said, “I was just telling you what a great year it’s been, and how I’m looking forward to the next one.”
“Oh. Yeah, me too,” Abby replied with a smile.
“You excited for tonight?”
“Psh, duh. It’s gonna be a great time. And I can’t wait to wear that little black dress you got me.”
“I can hardly wait either.”
“Have you figured out what you’re gonna wear yet?”
“Yeah, I think I’ll dress to match.”
“Perfect. I like black on you.”
“Speaking of which, I need to go pick up the tux from the dry cleaner.”
Derrick kissed Abby and got up from the couch.
“I’ll see you here at five?” he asked.
“Sure,” Abby replied as she stood up as well, grabbing a pair of pants and pulling them on. They both put on their shoes and left Abby’s room, Derrick heading for the dry cleaner and Abby heading downstairs to get a late lunch. They walked together towards the stairwell when both of their cell phones chirped at the same time.
“Who the hell is sending group texts?” Derrick mused as both he and Abby pulled out their phones.
Abby didn’t respond. She opened up the message, which had come from their company commander, to find a single word and an image. The word was ‘BOLO’, or ‘Be On the LookOut’, and the image was a picture of none other than Hiamovi! The picture looked to be taken from a distant and elevated position, so either a security camera or a drone. A drone probably, since the picture was of exceptional quality, Abby thought.
“Ah, closing in on another terrorist, I see,” Derrick chuckled.
“Yeah, looks that way,” Abby replied as she licked her lips. She made a mental note to warn Hiamovi the next time she saw him, hoping that there would be a next time. But she pressed that thought back out of mind and returned to the present. She still had a job to do.
After lunch, Abby returned to her room and found herself suddenly grow nervous. Her plan for tonight was desperate, and if caught she may not be able to talk her way out of it. After tonight, she would either have brought the war very close to its end, or she would find herself staring down the barrel of a gun.
She hopped into her shower, not because she needed to clean up but just to let the hot water run down her body. That usually calmed her down, and it did the trick. As Abby dried off, she began to feel much better.
“Everything’s gonna be fine,” she said aloud. “You’re Abby. You’re smart, you’re strong, you’re capable, and you’re gonna nail this.”
As five o’clock approached, the time when Derrick would pick her up and drive her to the White House, Abby began to get ready. Her hair she put up in a fancy, wavy style, following an instructional video she’d found on the internet. Then she slipped into the black, strapless dress and put on some of the jewelry (earrings and a necklace) that Derrick had bought for her over the months, followed by the stiletto heels she’d bought specially for this banquet.
Abby walked over to the floor length mirror in the corner of her room and assessed her reflection. She hardly recognized herself all done up like this, admitting to herself that she looked stunning. Indeed, that young woman with the toned body in a little black dress that came nowhere near her knees could hardly remember the little girl who, just a few years ago, was a skinny, starving teenager on the verge of death. She’d come a long way, and Abby was proud of herself.
Then she looked at her face, the face that would surely be the only woman’s face at the banquet without the slightest touch of make-up. That she still could not do. Even thinking about the reason for her boycott of make-up made her shiver, and she shoved those thoughts deep down inside of her. Derrick had mercifully never asked about that, and probably never would. Maybe not out of politeness but just because he was a boy. And a boy like Derrick wouldn’t give a damn if Abby wore make-up or not. In the right outfit, he probably wouldn’t even notice if she covered her face in mud.
Last, but far from least, Abby added one more component to her outfit, one that hopefully nobody would see. She stepped over to her nightstand, opened the drawer, and retrieved the tiny thumb drive that Jay had given her. Since she knew there would be searches of any purses, bags, or wallets, Abby hid the drive by slipping it down into her cleavage. She then adjusted herself in front of the mirror, making sure no wandering eyes could spot the small, black device.
In the few remaining minutes, Abby strutted around her room, practicing walking in those heels. Then, at five o’clock sharp, she heard a knock on her door. Abby stopped her walking and took a deep breath. This is it, she told herself.
“Just a moment!” she called out. Abby gave herself one more look in the mirror, then hurried over to open the door.
“Wow,” both Abby and Derrick said in unison. For a long moment, neither said anything further as they looked each other up and down.
“I have no words to describe you,” Derrick finally said.
“I’ve got one for you: perfect,” Abby insisted.
“Find me a word that means ‘better than perfect’ then, and that’s you.”
Abby smiled and said, “I love you.”
“I love you too. Now come, my lady.”
Derrick held his arm out and Abby took it in hers, squeezing it tight with her hand for a moment as Derrick led her down the hall, down the stairs, and then out into his car. He opened the door for her, helped her in, then got in himself. It was a short drive to the White House, and they arrived in minutes. Guards at the gate were stopping vehicles and checkin
g the occupants, but Derrick needed only to show his face to be waved forward.
Further up the driveway that led to the White House itself, Derrick pulled to a stop behind a line of other fancy, luxurious cars and parked. Leaving the keys where they were, he hopped out and walked around to the other side of the car to help Abby out of her seat.
“Thank you, sir,” she said with a smile.
“Anytime, ma’am,” Derrick replied, returning the smile.
A young woman wearing a red vest and bow tie over a white shirt hurried up at that moment, handing Derrick a valet ticket. Derrick thanked her and handed her a generous tip before she made her way to the driver’s seat to park Derrick’s car.
“Shall we?” Derrick asked, again holding his arm out to Abby.
“Surely!” she replied, wrapping her arm around his, and then the pair made their way up the sidewalk towards some stone steps that led up to the White House. DAS agents were there checking guests, but Derrick, being the President’s son, was waved through once more, and Abby, carrying nothing at all, was also allowed forward without a search. They made their way up the stairs, Derrick slowing his pace so that Abby would not feel rushed while walking in heels, and entered the grand front doors of the White House.
Just like that, Abby was inside. After a year of undercover work, she was inside the very heart of the new American government, within spitting distance of every important government official, surrounded by a small army of security, and she was armed with nothing but her dress and a thumb drive hidden in her bra.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“A pleasure to meet you, Senator,” Abby said, shaking the hand of one Robert Griffin, the senator for whom Derrick had worked for a year.
“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you,” the senator replied.
“Senator, do I have to tell your wife that you’re flirting with my girlfriend?” Derrick joked, and all three laughed.
“Hell, son. That’d make her day. I suspect she’d enjoy the alimony she’d get out of me,” the senator replied.
“Good seeing you again, sir,” Derrick said as he began to lead Abby in another direction.
“Indeed, my boy. Enjoy yourself tonight.”
After the initial shock wore off, Abby felt quite comfortable here in the White House. By sheer force of will, she’d cast aside Abby the spy and became fully immersed in Abby the girlfriend of the president’s son. Meeting with senators, walking with an air of smug yet justified superiority came naturally to this Abby. She caught several staring eyes and turned heads wherever Derrick led her, and she returned each glance with a haughty look, one that said, “I don’t blame you for staring, but now you must stop.”
“There they are,” said a voice from behind Abby and Derrick. They both turned to find themselves looking at President Cyrus Arthur. Wearing a sleek black tuxedo and holding a small glass of whiskey, the natural aura of command that accompanied the man seemed amplified by orders of magnitude, and for the briefest of moments Abby felt a tug of fear at her heart.
“Hello, Dad,” Derrick said, not as coldly as usual.
“Derrick, that tux is an excellent choice,” Arthur said. He turned to Abby then and said, “My dear, I’ll not even waste my breath telling you how stunning you look, as I’m sure you’re well aware of that fact.”
“I am,” Abby replied with a smile that was equal parts wicked and disarming.
“Confidence. A straight shooter,” Arthur said, removing a finger from his glass to point at Abby. “I like that.”
An awkward silence began to stretch between the three of them, so Abby quickly interjected. “So what’s a girl gotta do to get a drink around here?” she asked.
“The bar’s this way,” Arthur replied. “What do you fancy?”
“Whatever that is,” Abby said, pointing at the drink in the President’s hand.
“Good choice,” Arthur replied with a wink. “On the rocks?”
“Neat.”
“Make that two,” Derrick said.
Arthur led them over to the bar and ordered two whiskeys. The bartender quickly set two glasses down in front of him and filled them with the amber liquid.
“Shall we toast, then?” Arthur asked, holding his glass aloft as Abby and Derrick received their drinks.
“To what?” Derrick asked.
“The future,” Abby replied, lifting her glass alongside Arthur. “Always just out of reach, but never out of sight. It’s the ultimate hunt, and try as we might to shape it, it unfolds as it will.”
All three lifted their glasses, clinked them together, then took a drink.
“Alright, well you two enjoy yourselves. I have some more mingling to do,” Arthur said, and then he took his leave.
Once he was gone, Derrick said to Abby, “That might have been one of the least unpleasant times I’ve ever spent with my dad.”
“Oh, hush. Come on, let’s do some mingling of our own,” Abby insisted.
So Derrick led Abby about the banquet hall, introducing her to several wealthy, important people along the way. Abby shook hands, laughed at jokes, and accepted compliments with growing ease. After an hour of this, she began to feel quite comfortable maneuvering through the finer points of high-class society. But now she felt it was time to make her move. Derrick was busy talking with some old friends, and that, Abby believed, would keep him preoccupied long enough for her to carry out her mission.
Finishing the rest of her whiskey, Abby handed her empty glass to a passing waiter. She then turned to Derrick and said, “I’m going to find a powder room.”
“Sure,” he said, hardly taking his attention away from the current conversation.
Abby slipped away from the main banquet hall and out into the wide hallways of the White House. In preparing for this mission, she’d found some old books that detailed the layout of the original White House back in Washington D.C., guessing that since the exterior of the new White House bore a perfect resemblance to the old one, the interior must as well. So she made her way down the halls, passing only a handful of other partygoers idling about in private conversations, towards where she believed the president’s office to be.
No guards patrolled these hallways, they were all outside. And that made sense, Abby thought. They had no reason to suspect that a spy could be in District 1, let alone secure an invitation to a party personally hosted by President Arthur himself. And that was why Abby was equally unsurprised when she tried the handle of the door she believed led to the president’s office and found it to be unlocked.
Slipping into the dark room, Abby flicked on a dim table lamp next to her and closed the door. She stopped only to look around the room briefly to confirm she was in the right office. Wasting no more time, Abby hurried across the luscious carpet towards the enormous wooden desk near the far wall, flanked on either side by American flags. On it sat a large black laptop. It was closed, but that didn’t matter to Abby. Reaching two fingers down into her cleavage in a most un-lady like fashion, Abby retrieved the thumb drive hidden there and inserted it into the USB port on the side of the laptop.
A tiny orange light emanated from the drive, and then it turned to red. Abby guessed that this meant it was doing its thing. She held her breath, trusting to Jay’s tech prowess but also fearing the office door being kicked in by an armed DAS agent at any moment. The light stayed red for several seconds, and then several seconds more, and a faint hum came from the thumb drive. A bead of sweat began to form at the nape of Abby’s neck, and it ran down her back.
Finally, a full minute later, the light shone green and the humming stopped. Abby ripped the drive out of the laptop and returned it to its hiding place inside her bra. She turned away from the desk just in time to see the door handle turning!
Abby practically jumped towards the nearest wall, snatching out a book and flipping it open, pretending to read whatever was written in there.
“What are you doing here, Abby?” asked President Arthur as he stepped into his offi
ce and turned on another light. He was still in his tux and was holding another glass of whiskey.
“Oh, sorry, sir,” Abby replied. “I was using the powder room and wanted to check out your books. Derrick told me you’ve got over a thousand here in your study, and I love books.”
Arthur smiled and said, “Well, this isn’t my study, it’s my office. The Presidential Office.”
“Oh,” Abby replied in a confused tone, pretending that she didn’t understand the distinction. And then she said, “Ohhhh. My God, I’m sorry, this is really awkward.”
“No harm done,” Arthur insisted. “Just don’t go spilling any secrets of the State now, you hear?”
Abby laughed and said, “Oh, you can count on me!”
And with that, Abby walked out of the office, forcing herself to maintain the same grace and composure she’d shown all night, despite her body telling her to run like a wild woman out of that office. That was way too close, she thought as she closed the door behind her, and she hastened her pace down the hall to return to Derrick.
***
Back in his office, Arthur stood motionless, staring at the door and thinking, his brow furrowed. As if snapping out of a trance, he turned towards his desk and looked at his laptop with suspicion. Walking towards it, he opened it, the black, mirror-like screen reflecting his scrutinizing gaze.
He pressed the power button, punched in his password, and waited for the computer to boot up. Once it was running, he checked one of his security programs for recent log-in attempts. The most recent one was just that moment, of course, and the one before it had been a few hours earlier.
Arthur stared at the screen a moment more, then he shrugged and closed the laptop, taking a drink from his glass as he did.
***
Abby returned to the banquet hall, looking for Derrick but without success. She shrugged, and walked to the bar to refill her drink.
“Bourbon, please. Neat,” she said to the bartender, who filled her order immediately and slid the glass over to her. As Abby took a sip of the warm elixir, she noticed an older man sitting alone at the other end of the bar, but he was not just any old man. He was a general, famous in the military community, and well-known even to a newcomer like Abby. His name was General John Sloan, and the nearly three dozen ribbons and medals pinned on his dress uniform belied a storied, fantastic military career, though he now held the seemingly boring command of a division in Nevada.
His Name Was Zach (Book 2): Her Name Was Abby Page 35