Off the Leash

by M. L. Buchman

  “Pissed or scared?”

  He relayed the question and merely looked thoughtful at the reply.

  “Get him back here,” she looked around the room. They couldn’t bring him to the Second Floor without creating a panic. She quickly reviewed the map in her head. Most of the Ground Floor would be filled with guests who even at this moment were gathering for the main party to descend the Grand Staircase and lead them to dinner. Except for…

  “Take him to the Usher’s Room by the North Entrance.”

  She didn’t bother to wait. Instead, she crossed the hall—as casually as she could manage, which only got her stopped twice for congratulations and Thor petted three times—then raced down the back stairs toward the State Floor.

  Clive was still somewhere in the upstairs hall. If she was wrong, or too slow, he could well be in harm’s way. She moved faster, despite her unfamiliar heels.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Clive made sure his chef’s hat was on straight, then swept up the last finished tray of treats and carried them out into the reception himself.

  Only after he stepped out did he double-check that Linda wasn’t about to barrel into him or trip him up again. No sign of her and no Thor.

  He turned for the main body of the room.

  Everyone went out of their way to take another Pocky treat off the tray as he worked his way forward. The compliments flew thick and fast but he barely heard them, though he made sure to nod and smile as seemed appropriate.

  The First Lady made a point of stopping him and complimenting him on the success. “They swept every tray clean before they touched anything else,” she told him. “Of course, it was chocolate, so I was an easy sell and have eaten entirely too many.”

  He exchanged a laugh with her.

  Linda, however, was anything but an easy sell—even with chocolate. Had she tried the treat? Had she understood?

  He’d put everything he had into it.

  And now?

  He used his height to scan the crowd once more.

  And now she was nowhere to be seen.

  Linda almost raced past the Office of the Chief Usher. It was on the landing between the two flights of the back stairs leading from the Second Floor of the Residence to the double-high main Entrance Hall. At the bottom of the stairs was the Usher’s Room, but Thor had veered aside at this midlevel office and she saw why.

  Handler Jim and his springer spaniel Malcolm were standing just inside the threshold of the Office of the Chief Usher. A number of people were packed into the small room.

  “Thought it best to bring him in here,” he greeted her. “Get him away from the State Floor and the main entrance. Folks are pouring in at the moment.”

  “Perfect,” she briefly squeezed his arm in thanks as she stepped past him.

  The office was on the mezzanine level—directly above the Ushers’ Room and only accessible by these back stairs. At most it measured ten by fifteen feet, though it felt much smaller with Malcolm, four agents, the chief usher, and Secretary Mallinson all squeezed in around the pristine walnut desk and chairs.

  Malcolm hadn’t alerted to Secretary Mallinson. Neither had Thor and he still wasn’t. No explosives on him. Nor had he recently handled any.

  Linda’s thoughts raced, just like when she and her dog were at point on a village patrol.

  “I don’t suppose you’re willing to be helpful?”

  Mallinson leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and a worried look on his face. He glanced up at the ceiling at her question, then looked sharply away as if he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

  No longer any doubt that she’d found her culprit.

  But he wasn’t showing any fear. Whatever he’d planted up there, he was convinced that he was safe down here.

  However, his nerves were high. He checked his watch twice in under ten seconds before he caught himself.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have a crucial meeting.” He protested vehemently, but his eyes drifted to the ceiling once more.

  She turned to Jim. “Is Malcolm trained in tracing lost articles?”

  He shook his head, “Just explosives.”

  That wasn’t going to help. She and Thor had checked the entire hall and found nothing.

  Linda looked down at her dog. “Time to see just how good your training was, little one.”

  She pointed at the Secretary and said, “Thor, verloren.” Lost.

  He sniffed the man carefully, then looked back up at her.

  The Secretary stared down at him in shock. He began protesting loudly, but she ignored the distraction.

  Hoping for the best, Linda pointed out the door toward the stairs leading up to the reception.

  “Such!” Seek!

  Searching among the guests, Clive had at least spotted Dilya. If anyone knew where Linda had gone, it would be the kid.

  He was a little daunted by the company she was keeping, but took a deep breath and braved it anyway. In Lafayette Square, he’d stepped into danger without knowing it. That wasn’t bravery. This time, he knew that whatever was going to happen, he was probably now standing near the center.

  “Good Evening, Mr. President.”

  “Chef Andrews,” President Matthews sounded delighted. “You were always one of my wife’s favorites.”

  “And she mine as well, sir. She was kind enough to bring me chocolate from her family’s own plantation on several occasions. She has very much made me want to visit Vietnam.”

  “If you bring some of your finished chocolate back with you, I can’t imagine you won’t be welcome. This,” he picked one of the last treats up from Clive’s tray, “is utterly delightful.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Dilya, however, appeared to be too distracted to take another. That was very unusual, especially because he suspected that she was one of the chief thieves of his shop’s small chocolate cabinet.

  She kept watching an archway off the side of the hall. It led to one of the bedrooms, or maybe the family elevator, which he’d never used.

  He was about to scan the room again when Linda and Thor appeared beneath the arch as if by magic. Or as if she’d been running, and had suddenly come to a halt and was trying to appear calm.

  Then Linda softly snapped her fingers and, when Thor looked up at her, she pointed to the left.

  Thor put his head down and went.

  He recognized the action from the very first moment he’d seen her at the starting line of the James J. Rowley Training Center’s explosives course. With gestures and small noises, she guided him forward.

  Very few people were watching. Dilya. Lieber and Adams from the Secret Service agents along the wall. But no one else. Not even President Matthews, who had turned to strike up a conversation with his replacement, President Zachary Thomas—something about rival football teams.

  The conversations still buzzed up and down the length of the room. The pianist still played though Clive doubted anyone was listening to him to begin with.

  He and Dilya watched as Thor suddenly shifted direction, then sat abruptly at someone’s feet.

  “Oh shit!” Dilya whispered softly.

  Clive didn’t bother to correct her language. He just put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her in tight as Secretary of Defense Archibald Stevenson looked down at Thor in surprise.

  “Good evening, sir,” Linda managed as the shock rippled through her.

  “Good evening again, Ms. Hamlin. May I ask why your dog is looking at me like that?” Both of Dilya’s parents would know the meaning of the way Thor had sat so abruptly.

  This couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t be the one to take away Dilya’s second set of parents.

  Then Thor stretched up to sniff at the Secretary’s hand.

  “I’m sorry to ask this, sir, but did you shake hands with Secretary of State Mallinson?”

  He lifted his right hand up to near his face, inspecting it and then Thor
.

  Then he held it down closer to Thor—who wriggled happily in response at finding what he’d been told to find.

  “I did. What is going on, Ms. Hamlin?”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to explain.”

  “Yes, I think you do,” Dilya’s mom stepped directly in front of her.

  “No, ma’am. I really don’t.” Then she looked down at Thor. “Such!” And they stepped around the couple and continued down the room.

  “Oh my god, I thought I was gonna die,” Dilya bolted from Clive’s grasp and raced to her parents, where she hugged them fiercely. They pulled her in close.

  That was real family. That’s what Clive had lost with the death of his mother. Lost and missed so much that he’d thought it was a hole that could never be filled. Until he met Linda Hamlin.

  He couldn’t take his eyes from the three of them holding on so tightly to everything they had, but they in turn never took their eyes off Linda and her dog as the team continued their patrol.

  He and Linda and a girl of their own.

  It was all he needed to be happy—a truth he no longer doubted in the slightest.

  Clive could feel the seconds ticking by, so slowly that each heartbeat seemed to be a separate clap of thunder in his ears.

  Linda came up to him in full soldier mode.

  Thor sniffed him, then moved on. Even the dog was in soldier mode and acted as if he didn’t recognize Clive.

  Then, just before Thor led her away, Linda reached out to squeeze his hand.

  “That chocolate was truly glorious, Clive. Thank you.”

  And she was gone.

  But she’d left hope in her wake.

  Linda could feel the clock ticking. Inevitable. Unstoppable. How many seconds did she have? Not enough was her fear. Though at least she now knew Thor could track an odor.

  But she’d taken a precious few of those seconds to try and tell Clive what he’d done to her. His chocolate treat had gifted her back so much of the past she had forgotten. She and Peggy, back when they were still friends, on the swing hanging from the old apple tree. Maple sugar eaten fresh off the snow where Old Man Kimball would drizzle it in fanciful swirls to cool. All of the tastes and flavors of her childhood, distilled down to the impossible essence of five little sticks of chocolate.

  How had he reached so deep inside himself that he could do that?

  He was the one who had given her that gift. And she knew he hadn’t had the snack figured out yet on that awful night when she’d gone out of her way to wound him.

  Instead of anger or revenge, he had reached out to her with impossible forgiveness that she didn’t deserve. Forgiveness and understanding.

  If he truly gave her another chance, she promised herself that she would never again cast it aside.

  Of course, he wasn’t the only one who had to give them another chance. She first had to make sure they all survived.

  President. Vice President. Prime ministers. Some noticed Thor’s inspection, but most continued their discussions, oblivious to what was going on around them.

  Until Thor once again sat abruptly.

  She looked up at the man’s eyes.

  “The one you least suspect,” she whispered.

  Special Agent Harvey Lieber glared back at her.

  Clive moved in fast, using his bulk to block any escape, as well as anyone else’s view.

  “Not me,” the agent growled.

  Clive looked down and saw that Linda had a small taser pressed against the belly of the head of Presidential Protection Detail, Harvey Lieber.

  “Are you sure, Linda?” Clive couldn’t believe it.

  “Shut up, Clive. This is out of your league.”

  “And yours, Hamlin,” Lieber growled at her.

  Clive couldn’t believe it—the head of the PPD? He glanced around, but they still had no one else’s attention, not even of the other agents in the hall. Only the trio of Dilya’s family watched them from the far side of the hall.

  “We can walk out of here quietly, Lieber. Or I can have you dragged out of here twitching like a string puppet.”

  “Not gonna happen, Hamlin. You and your dog screwed up. You’re both gone.”

  Clive glanced down at Thor, who was still sitting close by Agent Lieber’s feet. But he wasn’t looking up at the agent the way that he’d been looking up at the Secretary’s hand. Instead, he was staring down.

  “Linda?”

  “Clive, I said—”

  “Look at Thor.”

  Linda and Lieber both turned to face him, then they both looked down at the dog.

  Lieber took a slow, cautious step sideways, but Thor’s attention didn’t follow.

  For the moment, Agent Lieber had been standing in the shadow of one of the potted palms.

  A briefcase sat behind the pot.

  “Oh shit,” Linda muttered. She’d been hunting the scent of explosives before, not of Secretary Mallinson. “I knew I should have checked behind the palms.”

  “It’s the same make and model,” Linda was going to be sick.

  “You sure?” Lieber asked.

  “I spent half an hour staring at it in the middle of Lafayette Square and then another dozen looking at the photos in the debriefing. I have nightmares about this make of briefcase.”

  “I’ll call the bomb squad. I had already alerted them and they’re staging in the basement.” She caught his wrist and kept him from raising his mic.

  “It may not be fast enough.” She tried to check her pretty ladies’ watch, but there’d been no outer dial to spin and track the number of remaining minutes. And she couldn’t remember now.

  She squinted at it.

  Five minutes to go until it was time to head downstairs?

  No, three. Could the bomb squad even get here that fast?

  Would it be safe to move? A motion trigger or—

  “Secretary Mallinson kept checking his watch. That implies a timer, not a motion detector.” Linda reached for the case and this time Lieber stopped her.

  “What if it’s both?”

  She closed her eyes and tried to picture Mallinson’s face. He’d checked his watch, not once but multiple times. He wasn’t worried about her moving it. He was worried about her finding it too soon.

  Brushing Lieber aside, she picked up the case.

  She lived through it.

  Good sign!

  “This way,” Clive stepped out ahead of her, and she followed closely in the wake he cut through the crowd with his empty tray leading the way.

  All she could think about was that, moments ago, her hand had clutched his, perhaps for the last time. And now it was holding a briefcase that felt as if it was leaving a stain of evil that would never wash off.

  By the time she noticed where he was leading her, they were past the back stairs. Past the stairs, through the dining room, and into the First Family’s private kitchen.

  “What?”

  “Here,” Clive slammed open the dumbwaiter.

  No time to stop and think, she shoved it in among the dirty serving platters.

  Clive slammed the door shut and hit the button for the downstairs kitchen.

  Lieber called down to the bomb squad.

  The three of them stood still. Unable to move away despite how stupidly close they were to the dumbwaiter filled with explosives. If the bomb went off in the shaft, it was bound to shoot a column of flame straight up at them. Still they all crowded around the glass doors and looked down.

  “At the kitchen level,” Lieber reported as he listened to his earpiece.

  “Bomb squad has it… In a portable shock sleeve…” which would absorb at least some of the explosion. “Out of the building…”

  Then a pause long enough that Linda almost screamed for them to hurry.

  “Inside containment with vessel sealed…”

  “Detonated! No damage. No one hurt.”

  And all three of them whooshed out held breaths making them laugh nervously
together.

  Lieber didn’t say a word. He simply shook Clive’s hand, a solid grip that expressed all of his relief at a close call. He held Linda’s hand in both of his for a long moment as they exchanged silent nods. Then he knelt down in front of Thor and received a sharp growl for his efforts.

  “Gute Hund. Freund.”

  Thor relaxed at her command and accepted the pet, but still showed the man distrust.

  Lieber rose and headed toward the hall calling instructions into his wrist mic to prepare for the processional to dinner.

  Unsure what to do with his hands, Clive wiped them on his apron, then threaded his fingers together.

  Linda looked up at him, inspecting him closely.

  “What?”

  “You’re a brave man, Clive Andrews.”

  “You think that’s brave? You should try building a three-hundred-pound chocolate White House that’s going to appear on national television at Christmas. That’s bravery.” Then he blew out another breath at how ridiculous he sounded.

  She rested her hand over his interlaced fingers. He could feel the gentle impression of each of her fingers as they held his.

  “You are also the kindest man I’ve ever met. I can’t believe that you made that chocolate treat for me after what I did to you.”

  “It was all for you, Linda.” And if he was going to be brave… “I love you, Linda Hamlin. I know it’s too soon. I know it’s ridiculous. But I could never ask for more than you. I get that it may take you some time to catch up, but Miss Watson said to never stop saying it.”

  “Miss Watson, huh?” A ghost of a smile touched her lovely lips.

  “Scary lady in the dingy basement? You know.”

  “Yes, I know Miss Watson. At least a little,” her expression was confused for a moment, but she shrugged it away.

  Clive couldn’t think of what else to say.

  Then the kitchen phone rang, the display showing Chef Klaus’ extension. He freed one hand from Linda’s grasp but made sure to keep a hold with the other so that she couldn’t slip away, then pressed the speaker button.

  “Andrews here.”

  “Warum are you up there? Du musst hierher kommen. While you are playing with your chocolates upstairs, wir haben bomb squads who say nothing, secret service agents who auch nichts sagen. All is mayhem. We start service in neun minuten. Get down here. Schnell! Schnell!” He delivered the tirade in a single breath intermixed with a thick stream of German curses, then the line went dead.