by Kim Baldwin
Thomas turned to look at her. “Was I not clear?”
“Crystal, but…”
Thomas approached her. “You’re skating on thin ice as it is, Kennedy. Remember who you are. Contrary to what you may believe, I can have you fired any time I please.”
“Then why haven’t you?” she asked. “It would appear I’ve given you plenty of reasons, and it’s become abundantly clear you can’t stand me.”
“Because I don’t have the time to busy myself with trivial topics,” the president replied. “But stop pushing it, because if pressed, I can make the time.”
“With all due respect, that’s a lie. Although I’m sure my organization will arrange a replacement if asked to, I’m still here only because you know I’m on your side. And I am the only person in this prison that gives a damn about what happens to you.”
“You only care because you think there’s some plot to destroy the world and you’re looking to prove yourself right. Both of us know you give about as much of a damn about me as the National Enquirer.”
“You’re wrong. I never said you’re out to destroy the world, and I also have no interest in proving anything.”
“Bullshit,” Thomas said calmly and with a hint of a smile. “Either way, you have absolutely no proof of that. Now, you can either waste your time with useless and tiring conversation or do what you were hired for and stop harassing me before I have you arrested for defamation.”
Shield crossed her arms. “What’s changed, Elizabeth?” she asked slowly and with deliberate sarcasm, reminding Thomas how she’d insisted Shield drop the formality. “A few days ago, you wanted to jump me. Am I too close to the truth for comfort? Or am I supposed to believe you’re over the distraction and confusion that is me?”
“The second, believe it or not,” Thomas replied casually. “Everybody uses everybody.”
“That’s damn clear.”
“Good. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get back to work.” Thomas headed toward the door that led to her secretary’s office.
Shield followed, as always two steps behind, but in reality a world apart.
*
Southwest of Baltimore, Maryland
Elizabeth Thomas stared at the screen, unable to believe what she was hearing, although the reporter was confirming everything her double had just announced from the White House Press Briefing Room. Her illegal-arms agenda was dead. That certainly answered at least part of the question about why all this had happened. Now she knew why they’d told her at lunch that it would be in her best interest to keep tuned to one of the 24-hour news networks today. They wanted her to see this.
One of the things that most surprised her, however, was that the reversal on the bill had come not from the imposter president, but from Senate Majority Leader Andrew Schuster. She’d considered him not only a reliable party stalwart, but a personal friend as well, someone who’d been with her in the battle against illegal weapons from the beginning. What could have compelled him to change his mind? Was it possible he had a double, too, who was doing the bidding of whoever was behind this?
The news report switched live to Schuster on the steps of the Capitol, giving his own press conference. She turned up the volume. The man certainly looked and sounded like Schuster, but then again, she could scarcely distinguish her own double from herself.
“After due consideration,” the senator was saying, “I’ve decided to withdraw my support for the president’s plan to pump millions of dollars into a new initiative to curtail the illegal-weapons trade. At this vulnerable stage in America’s economic recovery, we should focus our resources and attention on more immediate and grave concerns closer to home, like efforts to create more jobs and maintain our country’s competitiveness in the global marketplace.”
Thomas muted the volume when she heard noises from outside her room. She was rarely disturbed between meals, and dinner wasn’t due for hours.
The door opened and a man came in, someone she didn’t recognize. She could tell without even looking now whether it was Beard or Cleanshaven delivering her meals, based solely on their smell and the sound of their breathing. Cleanshaven always had a lingering scent of sweat about him, and Beard had the raspy exhalations of a heavy smoker. This new arrival wore a mask to hide his identity, as the other men did, but in every other respect he didn’t resemble them at all. He was dressed in a tailored navy suit, and his starched shirt and expensive shoes and watch confirmed that he had money. He was not a hired thug or guard like the others, but evidently a man of some importance.
“Good afternoon, Madam President. I hope you have been treated well.”
“And I hope you’re here to provide me with some answers,” she replied, standing to look him squarely in the eye.
“I am, indeed.” He gestured for her to return to her chair in front of the television. “Please, have a seat. And hear me out completely before you ask any questions.”
“All right.” She went back to the big armchair, and he took its twin, a few feet away.
“I represent the person who had you brought here.” He glanced at the muted television as he undid the button of his suit jacket. “I presume you saw the announcement a short time ago at the White House?”
“How can…whoever sent you…possibly think they’re going to get away with all this? What’s next in your sights—the alternative-energy initiative? Health-care agenda?”
He held up one hand condescendingly. “Please save your questions and just offer a yes or no, please.”
“Yes. I saw it,” she replied in a clipped tone.
“My client’s objective has been met today, with the official abandonment of the illegal-weapons plan,” he said. “So we will be returning you to the Oval Office very soon, probably tomorrow.”
Elizabeth couldn’t believe she’d heard correctly. “You’re…returning me? You’re going to just set me free…like that?”
“We never intended to harm you, Madam President. Only to ensure that this arms plan of yours never happens. Now…” He leaned forward and looked at her seriously. He had blue-green eyes, and she could see a smattering of crow’s feet beside them that disappeared under his mask. He had to be in his fifties, at least. “If you do as instructed, you will soon be back in the White House and able to pursue everything else you wish to accomplish.”
“What does ‘do as instructed’ mean?”
“We must ensure you never resurrect this arms agenda,” he said. “And, of course, you’ll never let on to anyone—ever—that it hasn’t been you all along calling the shots. If you’re even contemplating that, I’d advise you to think hard about it. First, no one would believe you. Our double has successfully fooled everyone…your cabinet, your vice president, even your family. And you can be sure that nothing will be left behind that would in any way confirm what you know. No fingerprints, stray hairs for DNA, or anything like that. We run a very clean operation, with no loose ends, as you witnessed yourself in the switch. You’d only damage what remaining credibility you have at this point if you say anything. Everyone would see you as a fragile, hysterical woman who couldn’t handle the stressful demands of the job. You’d go right from the White House to the crazy house.”
Before she could respond, he added in a threatening tone, “And of course, much more is at stake than your reputation if you do anything to alert authorities to what’s happened. The repercussions would be swift and severe, and keep in mind the target won’t necessarily be you next time, but those closest to you—like your sister and her family. Or your father. Oh, sure, you could assign them bodyguards or try to keep them in protective custody somewhere for a while. But you must know by now we have very highly placed resources and the ability to penetrate whatever security necessary to achieve our objectives. Nancy has two children, I believe?”
Elizabeth pictured the faces of her niece and nephew. While she might be willing to put her own credibility and life at stake to expose the conspiracy, she could never do anything to je
opardize them. If she had to choose between her arms bill and her family, the decision was easy. She would have to keep quiet; they’d proven what they were capable of. “I understand what’s expected of me.”
“Excellent. Your guards will be in very soon with some newspapers from the past several days and computer printouts so you can catch up on what’s been happening in the outside world while you’ve been our guest. We want you to be able to pick up your duties without alerting anyone that something’s amiss. You’ll also be provided with what we need you to wear to make the switch back.”
He got to his feet. “Questions?”
“How do you plan to reinstall me in the White House without anyone knowing?” she asked.
“You’ll find that out in due time,” he said, and went to the door. “Be patient, Madam President. This whole ordeal will be over in a day or two at most.”
*
Southwestern Colorado
“You’re not going anywhere, Cassady,” Monty said, getting up from his desk. “Running off half-cocked when you have no idea where to start looking won’t help. You know her best. We need you here.” As soon as he’d finished briefing her on what he’d learned from Dratshev, Cassady headed for the door.
Anticipating just that reaction, Arthur now stood between her and her objective. “Come on, Monroe. Listen to him.”
Cassady turned back and glared at him. “You have two minutes to convince me yours is the better option. You said the feds have been trying to find TQ for years.”
“They haven’t devoted the resources we will,” Monty replied. “And we have a much greater incentive.”
“If organ trafficking and the weapons trade aren’t enough incentive for the feds, then what is? Wouldn’t they have stopped her by now if they could?”
“Feds go after what they’re told to. Too many powerful people are in no hurry to stop the likes of TQ because they either profit from her, collaborate with her, or fear exposure.”
“And what’s your grand plan?”
He turned to Joanne, standing beside him. “Honey, alert Reno to get Landis here ASAP.” Landis Coolidge, aka Agent Chase, was the EOO’s best tracker. Monty knew her presence would reassure Cassady, since it had been Landis who’d helped Jaclyn find and rescue her from Andor Rózsa. Unfortunately, it would take some time to get her here, since she was on assignment in the South Pacific.
“We’ll give Chase anything she needs, and I’m calling in every favor I’m owed,” Monty told Cassady. “Contacting everyone I can who might have dealt with TQ or know more about her than we do. And Reno is going over her brother’s records again. If we need to, I’ll have him crack the Agency’s computers. If anyone has a lead on her, they would.” He would first try his contacts in the CIA, but he wasn’t optimistic they’d be forthcoming.
“What happened to Dario’s estate?” Cassady asked. “Who claimed his body and buried him? There’s a place to start.”
Monty shook his head. “Dead end. I explored that possibility right after he died, because TQ threatened Jaclyn. Federal authorities froze all of Dario’s assets, and the funeral arrangements, such as they were, were made via phone by an attorney. There was no wake, and Dario was cremated.”
“What happened to the remains?”
“Messengered to the attorney’s office in New York. Reno searched the firm’s records and found no mention of Dario or TQ.”
Cassady’s posture deflated. “We have to find her, Monty.”
“We will, Cassady. I promise you, we’ll keep looking until we find her. I’m not going to lose her again.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
The White House
Next evening, March 7
Ryden picked at her dinner. The White House chef had prepared another tantalizing feast—tonight’s menu included filet mignon, twice-baked potatoes, and an array of grilled vegetables, normally her favorite. But she’d barely managed a few forkfuls though she’d skipped dinner the night before and breakfast that morning. Her appetite had disappeared since she’d basically told Kennedy to go to hell.
The sentiment couldn’t have been further from the feelings she had wanted to express, but she knew one wrong word would mean curtains for both of them.
Up until a few days ago, all that mattered to her was getting through this ordeal alive so she could start her life anew, but Kennedy had somehow managed to warp her priorities. Ryden was doing her best to keep her distance and discourage Kennedy from looking too deep into the abyss of deceptions, but it hurt to push away the only person who seemed to sincerely care for her. She had been groomed to be selfish—for an orphan, it was necessary for survival—so people like Kennedy hadn’t existed in her reality.
But somehow Kennedy had managed to convince her that some people really did give a damn, and not because they could profit in some way. Ryden knew Kennedy was being honest concerning her motivation to uncover what was going on, that she sincerely cared about Ryden’s safety on a personal level.
Why did it take a fake life to find an honest person? And why couldn’t she bring herself to tell Kennedy the truth?
Not that it would matter. Even if she could have the unrealistic luxury of including Kennedy in her life after she was set free, she wouldn’t have the guts to look Kennedy in the face after all that had transpired. She was too insecure about her background and bland personality, and she felt too guilty about what she’d done to even fathom embracing the acceptance and attraction of a woman like Kennedy, a rich woman who happened to have morals and self-sacrifice embedded in her genes.
No, she had nothing to offer a woman of such a high caliber, which made telling Kennedy the truth as unappealing as kissing Ratman. She would have to leave Kennedy and every thought of her here in the White House. Here, she was at least the kind of woman Kennedy could appreciate: a strong, capable leader who had achieved greatness but somewhere along the way, beyond her control, had become trapped in a deceitful game.
She could feel Kennedy’s eyes on her back as she played with her food. Ratman had told her it would be unprofessional to skip another meal, so here she was, pushing it around, hoping the mess she’d made on her plate would fool the help.
Soon, she wouldn’t have any more reasons to act or force herself to do anything. Judging from the calls she’d had to make to Senate Majority Leader Andrew Schuster, the illegal-arms bill was likely the main reason she’d been blackmailed to double the president. Now that she’d made the official announcement abandoning the plan, her work here seemed to be done.
Did Theodora Rothschild have further use for her? And if not, would she keep the promise she’d made to set her up with a new life somewhere, with further alterations to her features and money enough to start over? Rothschild, Ratman, and whoever else was in on this conspiracy had already proved themselves capable of anything and not ones to leave loose ends behind.
And what would they do to Kennedy, who would go from protecting her to guarding the real Elizabeth Thomas? Ratman and that hideous Rothschild woman had said the real president would never discuss her abduction and replacement once she was back in office, because aside from destroying her credibility she’d also endanger her family. But even if that panned out—even if Thomas played along—Kennedy would certainly be able to spot the difference now, and Ratman wouldn’t allow anything to endanger his master plan.
After their discussion the day before she wanted desperately to get Kennedy out of here, so she’d talked to Ratman yesterday about replacing her bodyguard. She had told him Kennedy was asking too many questions she couldn’t or wouldn’t answer, and it was making her increasingly nervous and on edge. But Ratman, to her surprise, hadn’t been impressed or worried; he’d shrugged off her concerns by saying, “Not my call.” Maybe it wasn’t his decision, but his indifference was worrying, to say the least.
Too anxious to continue the ruse of eating, she looked at the waiter who stood nearby, ready to attend to her every whim. “Why don’t you join the rest in the kit
chen?” She smiled. “I hardly have an appetite tonight, and I won’t need anything else.”
“But—”
“I would appreciate some alone time.”
“Are you sure, Madam President?”
“I insist.”
The man gave a slight bow and left the private dining room.
Ryden took a deep breath and hoped she’d live to regret what she was about to do. She set her fork down. “Would you please join me at the table?”
A few moments of silence elapsed before Kennedy replied from behind her. “I assume you’re talking to me.”
“Yes.”
Without any audible movement Kennedy appeared at the table. Ryden could feel those beautiful blue eyes on her. “Have a seat,” she said, unable to look at her.
Kennedy pulled out the chair next to her and sat on her right.
“I want you to leave,” Ryden said.
Without a word Kennedy, got up.
“I want you to leave the White House.”
“You finally made the time to have me fired?” Kennedy asked coldly.
“Tell your superior you want a reassignment.”
“I won’t, because I don’t. If it’s any consolation, I promise not to talk to you anymore unless completely necessary, Madam President.”
“Please drop the Madam President bit.”
“I prefer we didn’t.”
“Fine, whatever,” she said. “But I insist you get out of here.”
Kennedy sat back down. “That sounds ominous.”
She shrugged. How was she going to make Kennedy realize she was in danger without telling her the truth? “Maybe it is.”
“I wish you would stop playing with me.”
“I’m not. I simply can’t say more.”
“I got that,” Kennedy said. “That’s been obvious since my first day here.”
Ryden forced herself to look at her. “Please, don’t fight me and don’t ask me why. Just do as I say.”