by Jayne Lind
Taylor didn’t answer for a moment, a gush of anger rising in her throat. This was the third holiday he’d canceled; his business trips were always interfering—always. What worried her even more was the fact that she often couldn’t reach him. He said it was because of the nature of his work, that he was in places where the mobile network didn’t reach. Well, he might have to wait six months now. “Karl, you’re always doing this! Canceling on me.”
“I know, darling” Karl soothed, “I was so looking forward to being alone with you on a beach, soaking up the sun, drinking coffee in our favorite little cafes, but I’ll phone you as soon as I return. Okay? Have to rush. Remember I love you.” With that he hung up.
Taylor wanted to shout at him, she wanted to let him know he couldn’t treat her this way, but he didn’t even give her a chance to answer. She knew she couldn’t tell him where she was going, but she still wanted to have the last word. She was never able to do that with him; he always beat her to it. She pushed the red button on her mobile sharply. Not nearly as satisfying as it used to be when you could slam the phone down on someone.
The taxi driver took Taylor to London City Airport Jet Centre. When the taxi had cleared the gate, Josh was waiting in front of the small building. He said nothing, but simply smiled and reached for her overnight bag. They walked straight to the runway, where a private jet was waiting. Obviously, these people didn’t need to worry about security like ordinary mortals, they are security, she reflected. Josh rushed her up the stairs of the plane. As she stepped in and looked around, she took in a sharp breath. It was luxury itself, with soft beige leather seats on either side of the aisle.
“Please sit anywhere you like,” Josh said, smiling. “As soon as we take off, I’ll see to getting us a good meal. Seat belts on,” he added, buckling his own, as the plane lurched into motion.
A voice came out of nowhere, “Are you two ready back there?” Josh spoke into his wristwatch. “Ready. Let’s get going.”
“Is there more than one pilot?” Taylor asked.
Josh smiled, “Yes, don’t worry, you’re in good hands. Have you had anything to eat?”
He seemed solicitous and attentive. Taylor found herself wondering what his reaction to her had been after the meeting the day before. Weren’t things complicated enough? Hadn’t her life been on fast-forward since yesterday anyway? Well, at least he couldn’t read her mind. “Not much.” she answered. “I’m afraid all this has affected me physically as well as emotionally,”
She looked out the window as they flew over London and watched the silhouette of the city now enveloped in darkness. The lights along the Embankment illuminated the Thames as it wound its way through London and she took a last look at majestic Big Ben. She suddenly felt very sad and a little bit frightened. She was leaving behind everything that was comfortable and familiar for the unknown.
As soon as the plane quit climbing and leveled off, Josh stood up, took off his suit coat, acted as steward and from somewhere in the back of the small plane the delicious aroma of food being warmed made her realize she was hungry after all.
“Champagne?” Josh asked, a few minutes later, as he brought a small linen tablecloth and spread it on the table in between the two seats. It was like a small dining table, probably meant for work as well.
“Oh, yes,” she said, thinking wryly that somehow, when one is on a private jet it seemed perfectly normal to drink champagne. Her eyes widened as she read the label on the bottle—Dom Perignon. Only twice before had she been fortunate enough to drink this expensive brand. These secret service people certainly knew how to live. Josh brought their meals and sitting across from her, poured them each a glass of champagne. She noticed he’d loosened his tie, the gold cuff links had disappeared and his cuffs were rolled back.
“To the occasion of our first meeting,” he said, clinking her glass lightly with his and smiling that heart-melting smile.
She tried to smile back, but instead, to her dismay, felt tears forming. She dabbed at her cheeks with the linen napkin and then was horrified as she saw makeup on the napkin. Angry with herself, embarrassed, she closed her eyes and put her head back on the headrest. “I’m sorry,” was all she managed to say.
Josh put his hand over hers on the table. Startled, she opened her eyes. With a look of sympathy, he said, “Taylor, I know this is overwhelming. I can’t really put myself in your shoes, but I know you are making an enormous sacrifice. And I also know you haven’t been allowed much time, if any, to get used to it.”
She nodded, willing the tears to stop.
“I’d like to tell you something” he went on, “I know all about you, as you may have guessed. We have a portfolio about you and I’ve read it several times. And you know nothing about me, other than whom I work for. So you are at a disadvantage…”
He hesitated a moment, never moving his hand, which felt warm and comforting on hers. What was he trying to say? What did all this mean?
“I’ve never worked in the White House,” he continued, “but I do know that in some respects it is similar to my job, which can be very lonely. In lots of ways, you will be undercover as well. The First Lady doesn’t want her husband to know about you, so you will be hidden in the White House. You will always have protection, wherever you go, but you may not be able to get out much.” He smiled and took his hand away. “Try to eat something, Taylor, please—for my sake.”
She dabbed at her eyes again with the napkin and then took a bite of pasta a la carbonara. “This is my favorite....” she began.
“I know,” he said, smiling.
“How do you know what my tastes in food are?” she asked, feeling slightly spooked.
“Well, let’s just say that we have ways of finding out. I told you I knew all about you, but please don’t feel frightened about that. You know you wouldn’t have been chosen for this mission if we didn’t have a lot of information about you.”
As he began to tell her what was going to happen next, she was able to wrestle her emotions under control, and as they ate and sipped the champagne, she felt her body begin to relax as well.
“I want you to sleep for a good while on the way over as well. I’ve been authorized to give you a sleeping pill, if that’s all right with you.”
Taylor nodded with her mouth full. She was relieved to hear this. She was exhausted and she knew that once they arrived, she would need to be alert.
“Later, I’ll make your seat into a bed and I’ll move across,” he waved to the other side of the plane. “We will stop in Iceland for refueling, but hopefully, that won’t disturb your sleep. And I’ll wake you in plenty of time. Meantime, I want to brief you on what to expect when we get there. You need to listen carefully, because none of these instructions will be written down. I know that you are trained in your profession to listen,” he paused and gave her a quick smile. “When we land, I hand you over to another agent. I may never see you again,” he paused and looked at her intently with those deep green eyes. He then continued to brief her on what to expect when they arrived.
It was far past midnight when Josh made up a bed from two seats and found a couple of warm blankets. Taylor dutifully took the sleeping pill and it seemed like the next thing she knew, Josh was gently repeating her name.
“Taylor, Taylor, time to get up.”
When she opened her eyes, he was leaning over her with his face dangerously close to hers. He lingered in that position for a moment and even in her sleepiness, she was instantly on guard and sat up. “What time is it?” she asked, looking out the window, seeing nothing but darkness and hearing the steady hum of the jet engines.
‘It’s eight o’clock in the morning for us – three A.M. in Washington D.C. We’ll be there in two hours. ’Eight o’clock, she hadn’t gone to bed until almost one, so she’d had seven hours sleep. The pill had certainly worked. “Did you sleep?” she asked. Josh looked just as he h
ad when the night before, unrumpled, casually perfect.
“A bit,” he answered, giving her the first smile since she’d awakened. “Why don’t you freshen up, and when you’re ready, I’ll ‘cook’ our breakfast,” he said, with a wry chuckle.
Taylor had hung up her suit and blouse before going to bed and slept in her robe. Nodding obediently, she took her overnight case and went into the lavatory. This was certainly luxury. She recalled many an overnight flight in economy class, waking up disheveled and stiff from the cramped position in which she slept. Twenty minutes later, she felt and thought she looked, much better. Josh handed her a steaming cup of coffee and greeted her once more with that devastating smile. She wondered if he knew how much power lay in that smile.
In a few moments, he set a breakfast of eggs with hollandaise sauce on a crumpet and fresh squeezed orange juice in front of her. He sat down across from her with only a cup of coffee.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” she asked.
“I ate whilst you were getting ready. I need to spend this time briefing you, I know we spent a long time on this last evening, but there’s more, I’m afraid.” She was looking down at her plate, busy cutting her egg, when he said, “By the way, you look beautiful this morning.”
Startled, her head jerked up and she felt weak inside. For heaven’s sake, Taylor, it’s just a compliment. “Thank you,” she finally managed, never taking her eyes off his, which still looked very serious.
“Now, please continue eating, I want you to get a good meal because you’re going to have a hectic day when we land.” He sounded paternalistic, but somehow, she didn’t mind.
As Josh continued to brief her, Taylor listened intently and, feeling even more overwhelmed than before, asked, “Does the secret service know who I am or why I’m there?” she asked.
“No. Only three people will know, the First Lady herself, her chief of staff, and the physician at the White House. As I told you last night, even the President doesn’t know.”
Puzzled about this, she asked, “How can I live one floor above the President’s quarters, come and go, yet he won’t know I’m there? Has anything like this ever been done before?”
Josh waited a moment before he answered. “I don’t know but if it has, it was kept secret. There were no records and I honestly doubt it.”
Chapter Three
It was all very rushed at the end. When the plane came to a stop at the gate, they both stood up and moved to the door. Josh put his hands on both her shoulders. She couldn’t think of anything to say as they stood there, looking into each other’s eyes. Then, he bent down and kissed her lightly on both cheeks, Continental style. “Goodbye, Taylor,” he almost whispered. “You’re going to have to be brave; this is a much harder task than you can know.” Then, just as one of the pilots came out of the cockpit to open the door for them, he leaned down and very softly and very quickly, brushed her lips with his.
Had the pilot seen what just happened? She didn’t know, but she was full of wonder. And only later, did she realize this hadn’t frightened her. Did he do this on all his assignments? She didn’t have time for speculation because he rushed her down the steps and into a corridor. When they reached a door, a woman dressed casually, who looked startlingly like Taylor herself, greeted them.
“This is Susan. I’m leaving you with her,” Josh said briskly. He nodded to Susan and then, without looking at Taylor again, abruptly walked away down the corridor. No goodbye, no good luck, just his back.
She watched him for a few seconds, feeling as if her insides had been turned upside down. How could he kiss her, albeit, it wasn’t a real kiss, and then just leave? But there was no time to linger on this, as Susan was talking.
“Please follow me. A car is waiting for us. I’m dressed like a relative who came to meet someone who is here for a family visit. I will chat about nonsense as we wend our way through the airport and if we are in proximity to anyone, please smile and nod at what I say.”
Taylor tried to pay attention to what this woman was going on about, but her mind was in a whirlwind about Josh. Why did he leave so suddenly? And now, this woman who looked a lot like her, who was of the same height and stature, who even had the same hair cut, was chatting to her about the family.
“We’re all so excited to see you, especially Aunt Becky. You know she may not be around the next time you visit.”
Was this code? Susan just smiled and nodded her head a lot when they weren’t close enough for anyone to hear. As they left the building a dark green car, very ordinary and very dirty, pulled up to the curb. A man dressed in jeans and a woolly sweater got out, gave Taylor a quick hug and a big smile as he took her case and put it in the trunk.
Susan motioned for Taylor to climb into the back seat as she sat down in the front with him. As they pulled away from the curb, Susan spoke into a phone attached to the dashboard, ”Sunflower leaving airport. All is well.”
What a strange world I’ve been plopped into.
***
When he turned away abruptly from Taylor and hurried down the corridor, Josh’s main feeling was annoyance—at himself. Why did I kiss her? What’s got into me? He’d never done that before. She was an assignment, not a date, not someone he was supposed to have a personal relationship with; she was an assignment. In the first place, he already had a girlfriend. He didn’t see Brittany as often as he would like because of his various travels, but they were in contact by email and telephone. Fidelity was important to him. He had to wait until the plane refueled, so he went into the airport to buy a cup of coffee. On the way, he picked up an American newspaper, the Washington Post. President Carlson’s picture was on the front page. Was he the reason his wife was depressed, he wondered? Surely not, he looked like a thoroughly nice guy, though in the course of his work, Josh never ceased to be amazed at the secrets that otherwise decent-looking people could hide. The outright lies he heard from world leaders had jaded him. Politics was all about power—obtaining it and then keeping it. He didn’t agree with President Carlson’s brand of politics, but then, the politics in the States were so different from Britain in many aspects anyway.
Entering Starbucks, he ordered a grande latte, took it to a table, and sat down to read the newspaper. He soon gave up. He couldn’t get Taylor off his mind. He was angry at himself. He hadn’t been professional; he’d stepped way over the line. Work first, personal life a very definite second; that had always been his rule. He didn’t think she would report him and he didn’t believe the pilot had seen what happened. He wasn’t going to be reprimanded by his superiors for this, so that wasn’t what was bothering him. What bothered him most was Taylor herself—what did she think of him? He told her he might email her from time to time, but there had not been a clue from her that the attraction was mutual. I probably blew it. He knew he had definitely stepped over the line, so she probably wouldn’t want to hear from him anyway.
His emotions in turmoil, he walked back to the plane. He planned to sleep the entire way if he could and if he couldn’t, there was always paperwork. He was done with this assignment. It was over. Taylor would be under the protection of the secret service and he knew he might never know what happened, either to her or to the First Lady. He leaned his head back on the seat and stretched out his legs. He was soon fast asleep. And dreamt—about Brittany.
***
Susan turned around from the front seat and smiled at Taylor. “We will take longer than usual to get you to the White House. We’ll take the scenic route.”
It was five-thirty in the morning and still a bit dark, but she could see out just fine and felt a sense of excitement now that she was actually here. She had never been to Washington, D.C. and as they sped along the motorway lined with forests of tall, leafy trees, she wondered if she would still be here when the trees were bare. The car turned off the freeway and stopped at a gas station, but rather than pulling up to the pu
mp, the car parked on the side of the building.
“Please get out and follow me,” Susan said. She led her to the Ladies and when they came out a few minutes later, the green car was gone. Instead, there was a black limousine and once more she was told to get into the back seat.
Taylor assumed, hoped, her bag had changed cars as well. As they entered the city, only a few cars and trucks were on the road. The city was not yet awake. Taylor’s sense of anticipation was building higher and higher. As they came into what she realized was the heart of the city, where all the government buildings loomed grey and forbidding in the morning twilight, she noted how wide the streets were, so different from the narrow streets in most of London. She was gazing out the window at the Washington Monument, lit up and towering majestically to the sky and so was surprised to find they had arrived at the White House. The car drove through a heavy black wrought iron gate. She had an image in her mind of the White House as seen on television, an image of stately splendor, of a sweeping lawn, and of the familiar porticos. However, she would have to wait to see this view, as the car stopped and Susan asked her to get out and follow her.
Apparently in a hurry, Susan walked and spoke quickly “Your luggage will arrive soon, come this way please.”
Disoriented, Taylor didn’t know if they were on a side of the White House or in the rear. The only impression she had in the brief glimpse of the exterior walls was that up close they didn’t look all that white. Maybe it was the lack of light, she told herself. Susan hadn’t called her by name and as they entered through a door, she spoke into her sleeve. Taylor followed her, trying to keep pace, as she walked quickly to a small lift. She wanted to look around; she wanted to take everything in, but there wasn’t time, as Susan gently nudged her in.
“Sunflower arriving,” she said, and a burst of static came back, as she pushed the button for the third floor. They stepped out into what looked like a long, rectangular room. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling and there was a clutter of furniture everywhere. There were bookcases built into the walls along one side.