by Kim Baldwin
Ryden stared at her, dazed.
“I was right.” Kennedy let go of her. “You don’t want Moore any more than you want whatever he’s gotten you involved in.” She walked to the door.
“And this is how you make a point?” Ryden yelled.
“I can’t protect you if you won’t let me, Elizabeth.”
“I can have you fired.”
“But you won’t.”
“Because you’ll tell the world I wanted to kiss you?” She was furious. “Is my life a game to you, like it is with everyone else?”
“I don’t play games. That would be your friend Moore, and I could care less about announcing anything to the world. All I care about is doing my job and you…are my job.”
“If you don’t play games, then what were you trying to prove a second ago?”
“What I already suspected.”
“That I’m attracted to you?” Ryden asked.
“That you’re afraid, lonely, and that something very wrong is going on.” Kennedy walked through the door and closed it behind her.
*
Kenneth Moore led Theodora Rothschild away from the East Room and into the Red Room so they wouldn’t be overheard. The event was winding down and nearly all the media had already departed, so there was little chance of someone photographing TQ. But she was ultra-sensitive to that possibility, and Moore also wanted to minimize his being seen with her.
“She is the perfect political decoy,” TQ said as soon as he’d shut the door. “I struck gold with this one, and it took me only four tries.”
“I saw the missing-person pictures of the others on the news. Well, two of them anyway. The blonde wasn’t reported locally.” He went to the bar and poured them two cognacs as Rothschild took a seat on the couch. “Good luck finding and identifying scattered ashes.”
“I warned them,” she replied. “I told them there was no space for mistakes or imperfections. Well…except the one who died during surgery.”
“No one could have foreseen her intolerance to anesthesia.” He handed her one of the snifters and sat beside her. “Her heart seemed fine.”
“But it wasn’t. What a disappointment.”
Kenneth lifted his cognac in a toast. “Just as well. None of them were half as convincing as the florist.”
“No telling what rock talent might be hidden under, dear friend,” TQ replied. “A florist, an uneducated orphan, is more convincing than anyone could have imagined.”
They both laughed at that, but Kenneth stopped abruptly when he remembered the loose end they had to consider. “We need to have that press conference ASAP.” He put his glass down.
“Of course.”
“I mean really soon.”
TQ’s expression grew serious as well. “Is something the matter?”
“Her bodyguard, Harper Kennedy—some private-contractor dyke the Secret Service assigned to her after the attack—she’s snooping around. She suspects internal involvement, and I don’t like the way she looks at me.”
“Why haven’t I heard of her before?”
“She hasn’t been a real threat, but our florist has taken a liking to her.”
“Who does this Kennedy work for?” she asked.
“The Elite Operatives Organization.”
“I’ve heard of them.”
“I’ve asked around. It wasn’t easy to find out much. Only the highest levels of government know about their existence. It would appear they are very capable, and their agents are adopted and trained at a very young age. They require a handsome payment, but they get the job done whatever the cost or risk to themselves.”
“I’m aware. That’s why I considered them in the past.”
“It would be wise to steer clear of Kennedy,” he said.
TQ smiled. “Since when do you get paid to think?”
“I just mean—”
“If I have to deal with Kennedy or the EOO, I will.”
“I know.” Kenneth took a sip. “Senator Schuster has had enough time to come up with his arguments against the president’s illegal-arms plan.”
“More than enough. Have the double call him tomorrow and tell him she’ll hold her press conference in three days. She’ll announce she’s putting the plan on indefinite hold because his opposition has killed its chances in Congress. He’ll hold his own press conference immediately after to explain his reasons.”
“Will do.”
“We should be able to deliver Thomas back to America shortly after,” TQ said.
“And the florist can join her unsuccessful predecessors.”
“And so will her bodyguard.”
“Kennedy? Why?” He didn’t like the idea of crossing the EOO and inviting even closer scrutiny of himself.
“Think, Kenneth.” TQ sighed. “How am I supposed to let the one person who’s spent so much time with the florist, and is suspicious of her and you, continue to guard the real president?”
“But…”
“But what?” TQ leaned forward. “Do you have a problem with that, Kenneth?”
“This organization means business. They’re dangerous.”
“Business is my life. Also, nothing is more dangerous than power, and I have power.”
Chapter Nineteen
The White House
When the president reemerged from her bedroom after ten minutes alone inside, Shield followed her back to the East Room. Whereas Thomas would previously look in her direction now and then, she now avoided any eye contact.
As soon as she was at the party again, the president seemed to scan the room. For what, Shield wasn’t sure, but Kenneth Moore and the older, attractive woman Thomas had been introduced to just prior to her leaving were now absent. Though Shield hadn’t been close enough to hear their conversation, she’d seen the surprised, almost shocked expression on Thomas’s face. She made a mental note to inquire about the woman later.
Some of the guests were waiting to thank the president and bid her farewell, so Thomas made her way to them. She was poised, as she usually was, but Shield noticed that her eyes were void of emotion, almost cold.
Shield had never meant to play with her and hadn’t; what she had done, however, was get herself into an impossible predicament.
Thomas clearly wasn’t interested in Moore, and was even afraid of him, but Thomas’s words had touched her to the core. Although the president was straight and used to be married, Shield couldn’t bear the thought of any man touching her. She was upset even now just picturing it. So when Thomas had said Moore’s advances were welcome, Shield felt the need to prove her wrong.
She’d wanted to prove that whatever was going on between her and Thomas, no matter how simple, temporary, or superficial, was still more real than what Thomas could feel for another, let alone that despicable little man she was protecting.
The memory of those few seconds, so close to the president, flooded her consciousness. Those full lips…those warm and vulnerable dark eyes…the intoxicating scent of Thomas, all combined into the most intimate, sensual sensation she had ever experienced, even if it was an impossible if not catastrophic scenario. Why did this have to happen? Her life was fine as it was—her wine, home, and Monica, all picked and combined like her grapes to create the flavor that suited her. Thomas, conversely, was a complicated vine she couldn’t fuse with herself or her life.
The president shook hands with the last of her guests just as Moore returned. He whispered something to Thomas, smiled when Thomas nodded, and left again.
A few moments later, the president turned to leave as well, and Shield followed her to the Oval Office. Thomas practically shut the door in her face, and Shield was about to call in a replacement so she could take a break when Moore showed up.
“I take it Madam President is inside,” he said.
“That’s correct.”
“We are not to be disturbed.”
“Understood.”
“About that theory of yours, how’s it panning out?”
“Theory, sir?”
“The insider-collaboration-to-kill-the-president premise.” He smiled. “Your conspiracy theory?” he added in a belittling tone.
“I never said whoever is involved was trying to kill the president,” Shield said, matter-of-factly. “Just like I never said it was a theory.”
“Oh?”
“If the assailants wanted to kill the president that day, they would have.”
“So, it was a warning? To show us what they’re capable of?”
“I think it was a perfectly choreographed theatrical attack.”
“Interesting.” He crossed his arms and looked down as if considering the possibility. After several seconds, he touched her shoulder. “The only thing your theory lacks is motive.” He squeezed her shoulder as if encouraging a child. “Keep at it, though. I find our little talks amusing.” He laughed and let go of her. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Shield grabbed him by the elbow before she could stop herself. “I don’t know why or exactly how you’re involved, but I do know that Thomas—like Bush and so many others—has been reduced to a puppet president.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“How close were you to her husband Jeffrey?” she asked.
“Quite.”
“So he must have seen the way you look at his wife.”
“You’re out of line, Kennedy.”
“I know,” she said, close to his face. “And I frankly don’t give a shit.”
“I can have you fired.”
“You know you can’t touch me.”
“I can talk to your employer.”
“Why don’t you?” It was her turn to smile. Shield opened the door to the Oval Office. “I’m sure he’d love that.”
“You’d be wise to stick to what you were hired for.” He walked past her. “I’ll let you know if the president needs to…use the bathroom.” Moore grinned and shut the door.
*
Outside Houston, Texas
Later that night
Jack kept her eyes closed because of the blinding light. There wasn’t anything to see, anyway. She’d studied every inch of the room as best as she was able and had discovered no opportunity for escape or reprieve from her confinement. Every now and then, she would move her hands and feet to try to keep the circulation going. So far, she’d managed to avoid soiling herself, but her bladder ached for release.
“How nice to be able to put a face to the voice.”
Jack recognized TQ’s voice over the intercom. She wasn’t sure how much time had elapsed, but it wasn’t more than a few hours, which was less than she expected. Staring up at the mounted camera, she replied, “Likewise.” She looked down at herself. “I intended to come dressed for the occasion, but something tells me you prefer your women stripped and bound.”
“I do so appreciate vulnerability.”
“And anonymity.”
“What’s in a face, after all?” TQ asked.
“You seemed pretty anxious to see mine.”
“But you’re so much more than a face, Jack.”
“That’s right. I’m your brother’s executioner.” Jack smirked.
“That you are.”
“Nothing you do to me will bring that disease back.”
“Nor do I want him back,” the cold, disembodied voice replied. “My affairs are significantly less intricate without him to worry about. Life is much less complicated without attachments. Take Ms. Monroe, for example. You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for your sense of obligation toward another.”
The mere thought of anyone touching her blond angel, especially after all she’d already been through, sent a wave of despondency through Jack. “You promised to leave Cass alone.”
“And I have. I always keep my promises.”
“What do you want?”
“I’ve debated that question since…well, since you executed Dario in my ear,” TQ said.
“He was so fond of being a spectator,” Jack said, recalling the man’s propensity for orchestrating hookups between call girls and their escorts from behind a two-way mirror. “I thought it was time to make him the star.”
“Very creative of you.”
“I’m flattered you think so.” Jack shrugged.
“Hmm. Kill you or hire you? That’s the question.”
“The only line that matters is the bottom one, so get to it.”
“For someone in a very…compromised position, you seem to think you can call the shots.”
“This is your show to run,” Jack said. “I just want to know what the hell you want from me. If you wanted to kill me, you could have done that without the boring prelude.”
“Maybe I want to take my time. Ever considered that?”
“Been there, done that, and kept the scars.”
“I’ve noticed. Tell me how it happened.”
“Why would I?”
“Because I can keep a certain loved one alive.”
“Is this how it’s going to be? You’re going to threaten me with Cass every time you want something?”
“You leave me no choice, since you hold little value for your own life. I’m going to ask you one last time, Jack. What happened to you?”
“I was tortured in Israel by this guy Amzi, who was supplying guns and explosives to some Palestinian radicals. I managed to escape before he killed me.”
“What were you doing in Israel?”
“I had taken a job for a rival weapons dealer,” Jack lied. She was protecting the EOO and wasn’t sure why. Maybe because Cass worked for them. “And in the process fell for a woman. Turns out she was a spy. She pretended it was mutual to get information and then handed me over to Amzi.”
“You seem to have this nasty habit of getting involved with the wrong women and sacrificing everything for them.”
“If you’re implying Cass is one of them, then you’re wrong.”
“What do you think she’ll do when she finds out you’re missing?”
“Look for me.”
“With what resources, Jack? She’s a violinist.”
“I didn’t say she’d find me.”
“True.”
“Do you want her to look for you?”
“No.”
“Oh?” TQ sounded surprised.
“I want her to stay the hell away from you.”
“Do you really think she could get anywhere near me, or even suspect that I’m behind this?”
“No.” Jack lied again.
“Why not?”
“I haven’t been honest with her. She doesn’t know what I’ve done or who I’ve worked for.”
“Not even after you teamed up with special forces to save her from Rózsa?”
The bitch had done her homework. “I told her someone owed me a favor and let me tag along.”
“The FBI owed you?”
“An old school buddy works for the bureau.”
“How convenient.”
“Exploit whoever, whenever, right?”
“My kinda gal. How did they torture you in Israel?”
Jack had spent years trying to forget what had happened to her, and this psychotic bitch wanted to take her back. “They hurt me.”
“How?”
“They used me as a punching bag. Whipped and starved me.” Jack left out the rape, the thing that had hurt and degraded her the most.
“How did you escape?”
“After a long while, when they thought I was too weak to stand up, I managed to strangle one of the guards with the chains they bound me with and ran.”
“Brave, resilient woman.”
“I guess.”
After a long pause TQ continued. “I don’t want to hurt or torture you, Jack.”
“Then tell me what the hell you want.”
“I want you to work for me.”
“Doing what?”
“Whatever I ask.”
“Like?”
“What you are infamous for,” TQ replied.
“Poker?”
“I want you to take care of some of my business.”
“Be more specific.”
“Sometimes I need to make certain individuals see things my way.”
“You want me to hurt people.”
“Hurt, execute, whatever is necessary.”
“I don’t do that anymore,” Jack said.
“Because your girlfriend asked you not to?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
“Once a paid assassin, always a paid assassin, Jack. You can’t refute your nature.”
“What if I decline?”
“What if I have Ms. Monroe shot during the concert?”
“No. You can’t touch Cass.”
“Then you can’t decline.”
The bitch left her no choice. “I’ll do it.”
“I need proof.”
“So do I. I want to hear Cass is okay.”
“Fair enough,” TQ replied. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
“I want to meet you in person.”
“We’ll get to that but not just yet.”
The static disappeared. TQ was gone.
*
The White House
Thomas’s meeting with Moore lasted an hour. Both came out with blank, distant expressions, and neither looked at Shield. When Shield followed the president to her room, she shut the door in her face without so much as a good night. Thomas was clearly upset with her, and she couldn’t fault her.
When Jason, her Secret Service replacement, arrived to take the night watch outside the president’s door, Shield left for her bedroom.
Although she was exhausted, she couldn’t stop thinking about Moore and his hold on Thomas. After tossing and turning for a couple of hours, she reached for her iPhone and Googled Jeffrey Thomas Elizabeth died. She had no proof, but her gut told her Moore was somehow involved in his death.
News reports said Thomas’s husband had been playing a round of golf at the Bath Country Club near the couple’s home in Maine when his heart failed during the game. His wife Elizabeth, who was campaigning in Vermont at the time, rushed to Mid Coast Hospital in Brunswick, accompanied by her special advisor, Kenneth Moore, a close family friend. But Jeffrey Thomas was pronounced DOA before she arrived. He had stopped breathing in the ambulance and could not be revived.