by Jayne Lind
“Sorry to scare you,” Susan said, “but I need to talk to you and this is the safest place.”
Taylor shut the door and crossed over to her, pulling the uncomfortable chair up closer. Her first thought was that something had happened to Josh. “Has something happened?” she asked, cryptically. She didn’t want to put Josh in jeopardy by suggesting they had a relationship, however professional. Susan didn’t keep her in suspense; she went right on, ”There’s a reporter who has been seen following you when you leave here and he’s also been asking questions around.”
A wave of relief came over Taylor. Nothing could be that bad if Josh was all right. She said a prayer of thanks, to someone ‘up there,’ her newfound holiness still fresh from the church service. “The same one who was in Rock Creek Park?”
“We don’t know, but we suspect that someone who works in the White House has leaked information to him. The only person who is supposed to come into your room is the cleaning lady and, of course, you’re always here when she comes, but somehow someone probably came in one of those times when you were out. Have you ever left your laptop out of the safe?”
Taylor shook her head. “No, never.”
“Even when you’re in the shower?”
She thought for a moment. “Maybe, I might have then. Do you think someone came in while I was in the shower?” The thought of someone lurking around her room while she was in the shower really frightened her. “It could have happened,” she admitted. What could someone have found out from her laptop?
“I know you have a password to get into your computer. Do you change it often?” Susan asked.
“No, not as often as I should, as Josh told me to. Oh, Susan, I hope I haven’t caused all this trouble by my carelessness. I didn’t think anyone would come in my rooms while I was here.”
Susan nodded. “I know. It’s not like a hotel room where you can put a safety latch on the door, but there are so many people who work here, there is so much going on, that you can see how it could happen.”
“So you think an investigative reporter has been told by an informant that someone is staying at the White House for a long time and that reporter began following me?” Her mind quickly flashed back to the man in the restaurant, the one who she thought was flirting with her.
“That’s all we can assume at present,” Susan replied “You can imagine what that kind of story would be worth to an unethical newspaper, so I’m afraid they go to great lengths to find out things about the goings-on at the White House.”
“Would this reporter be able to find out my identity?”
“We don’t know that yet. When you take a shower, is the bathroom door closed?”
“Yes, it’s not all that warm in there, so definitely, each time.” And locked, she could have added.
“And when you’ve gone to the gym, wouldn’t you take a shower afterward?”
“Yes, but I don’t get to go every day, only when Lillian clears it for me.” Taylor was becoming more and more frightened. Susan was grilling her, as Taylor knew she had to do, but as the realization of how trusting, how careless she’d been began to dawn on her, she felt ashamed as well.
“When you go to the gym, do you ever see cleaning ladies in the central hall or in the Sun Room?”
Taylor thought back. “Of course, someone, usually two people, always seemed to be dusting or vacuuming. So someone could estimate when I would get into the shower from watching me return from the gym?”
“Yes, and when you take a shower, where do you leave your badge with your picture on it?”
“On the bureau, in the bedroom, near the door.”
Susan leaned forward, looking at Taylor intently. “So someone could have taken a picture of your picture on the badge. Then all a reporter has to do is watch for someone of your description to leave the White House.”
Taylor felt terrible. How could she have been so careless? It had never occurred to her that someone would come into her room while she was in the shower. She shouldn’t have left her badge out; she shouldn’t have left her laptop out.
“Was your laptop ever out in the sitting room while you were in the shower?”
Taylor nodded slowly.
“Yes, I’m afraid so.”
“So someone could come into the sitting room at the same time and try to get into your computer. Have you ever left it open, not on line, but open and available while you were busy in the bathroom?”
“Yes.” She felt so ashamed. She wasn’t used to this undercover world; she wasn’t used to being so cautious and she felt violated. “But how would they get a key?”
“I’m afraid that even with the secret service protecting you,” Susan replied, “it is still possible for people who work here to have keys duplicated. It’s not easy, mind you. Someone would have to have worked with an accomplice, another employee, to get that done.”
“So what does this mean? What happens now?” Taylor asked, feeling wretched, and at the same time, terribly ignorant and naïve.
“I don’t know, but I’m afraid you aren’t going to get out much from now on. We’re going to have to be much more careful. And we’re going to have to get your lock changed.”
“And I’m going to have to take fewer showers...”
Susan stood up to leave and Taylor followed her to the door. Before she opened it, Susan said, “By the way, how are you getting on with Josh?”
Startled, she replied, “What do you mean?” Was she not supposed to be communicating with him? Was she not supposed to reveal something even to Susan? For the second time in the past half hour, her breathing began to speed up.
Susan smiled, “I just wondered if he was emailing you.”
“Yes—isn’t he supposed to?”
She laughed, “Oh, I’m sure he’s supposed to. But I just want to warn you, woman to woman. Josh has quite a reputation; you need to be careful with him.”
Taylor felt like a hollow shaft weighing a ton sank from her throat to her stomach and her mouth felt dry. He has a reputation, so he must charm every woman he comes in contact with. Had he had a relationship with Susan? He has a reputation, he has a reputation, the words resounded in her head, over and over, taking her emotions down, down, down. That meant he couldn’t be trusted—just like all men.
After Susan left, Taylor felt even emptier. She knew she should have been upset about someone being in her room and she was. She berated herself because she’d been entrusted with an important job and she’d blown it. But that wasn’t uppermost in her mind; what she was really upset about was what Susan said about Josh. She wanted to tell Josh how she felt about her carelessness, but now she felt intimidated. Was he just playing her along, knowing they would never be able to have a relationship? Should she count on him to be her friend, even if he did go from woman to woman, as Susan seemed to say? Well, she knew she had to write—she couldn’t help herself.
Dear J: S just left my room. I’m so sorry, and I’m so frightened. This world of yours, this u/c world isn’t for me. I don’t think I have the courage for it. I never dreamed anyone would come to my room while I was in here. I’m going to be frightened now every time I take a shower. Are you angry with me? I hope you’re somewhere you can answer back immediately. T.
He answered within ten minutes:
Hi there T. No, I’m not angry at you. You are a layman; you can’t possibly know what we know. Actually, I should have warned you of this. It’s really my fault and I’m probably going to hear from my superiors about it. I am much more concerned about you now since you can’t get out and about anymore. I’ll see what S. can do to make things better for you, but you are going to have to stay inside that big, neutral coloured house, as you describe it. Know that I care and that I think about you a lot. Love, J.
Love—he signed it love! Tears came to Taylor’s eyes, she felt ecstatic for a short, wonderful m
oment before the rational thoughts took over. It doesn’t mean anything, she told herself. It’s just a way of ending an email, but a lot more personal than cheers. What did he mean? Of course, he didn’t mean he loved her—did he? After all, that’s how she signed nearly all her emails. It meant nothing.
Should she answer him back? And should she sign it as he did? She felt paralyzed by her insecurities. Her clients all thought she had her emotions under control; she gave them wise advice and they probably thought she really had it together. Good thing they couldn’t see her now.
She lay down on her bed, staring at the white canopy above. She had been so elated by his email that only then did Susan’s words come back to her. He has quite a reputation. Was he grooming her? So that when and if they ever met, she would succumb to his carefully laid plans? Was she being utterly, completely foolish?
She slept fitfully that night and dreamt of being on a beach in Venice with someone who looked somewhat like Josh, only rather than being dressed in swim trunks, he had on an immaculate business suit, with gold cufflinks and an expensive looking tie. She hadn’t answered Josh. She wanted time to think all this over, to assimilate what Susan said, and the way he signed his last email.
The next morning, she was dressed in her tracksuit in hopes she could go to the gym, when the phone rang.
“Can you come to work right now?” Lillian asked, in a demanding tone.
“I was about to phone you to get permission to go to the gym. Is it all right to come as I am?” she asked.
“Yes, come right now.” Lillian’s voice, abrupt at the best of times, had a new urgency to it.
Beth was dressed casually as well. She wore a pair of silk trousers, very expensive, Taylor noted, and a white blouse, so even though it was casual, it was certainly not slouchy. Her face, however, did not match her beautiful clothes. She looked as if she’d had no sleep, her face was drawn and the expression on her face as Taylor came in the door was one of pure anxiety.
“I apologize for this” Beth said, sitting down in her usual place, “but I really need to talk to you.”
“No problem, what’s going on?”
“It’s Sam…..he, oh, Taylor—I think he’s going crazy!”
“Why, what’s he doing?”
“He’s ranting, he’s saying that everyone’s against him, that he can’t trust anyone, not even me. He’s blowing up in cabinet meetings, cursing and……” She put her hand to her mouth and stopped talking.
Taylor’s mind was racing with questions. Had the President had a psychotic episode? Or had he been drunk when these things happened? “Has Frank been called?” she asked out loud.
“Yes, he came last night to the residence. He talked to Sam for quite awhile, but you see, the problem is, Sam doesn’t think anything’s wrong with him. He thinks it’s everyone else’s fault.” She paused for a moment and dabbed her eyes with a tissue. She wasn’t crying, but tears were there, waiting to spill over.
“So lots of people must know. It’s a wonder it hasn’t leaked out to the press.”
Beth nodded. “Well, the thing is, he’s blown up before in front of people. Everyone close to him knows about his terrible temper. But this is different. It’s, it’s almost as if he’s become paranoid. He has a look in his eyes, like someone who is being hunted, and he scares me, frightens me badly.”
“Okay, try to sit back and take some long, slow deep breaths and then, I want you to start at the beginning, tell me what you know in detail about what happened.”
Beth sat back and did as Taylor had previously coached her, taking in air through her nostrils with her mouth closed and then exhaling very slowly through her mouth.
“That’s right, do it three times,” Taylor said. By the end of the third time, Beth was visibly more relaxed.
“Yes, that does feel better,” Beth said.
“Just start at the beginning…”
“I wasn’t there, but Richard, you know, the secretary of state, has always befriended me, always known what Sam is like, and without being indiscreet, has tried over the years since we’ve been here to help me whenever and wherever he could. He phoned me yesterday after the Cabinet meeting and asked if he could drop by. You know, none of us ever knows if a telephone line is completely secure or not.” She stopped and took another deep, slow breath. “When he came to my office he looked so worried.” She stopped for what seemed like a long moment, visibly upset, but trying to calm herself down. “He said that as we all know, Sam’s poll ratings are down, way down. There is so much opposition to the war and the press is editorializing against him. He reads several of the newspapers, the Washington Post, the Washington Times, The New York Times, but he somehow blanks it out, or pretends to, and he made it clear to his staff long ago that he did not want anyone to talk about it in his presence. But yesterday, he overheard what someone thought was a private conversation. Dominic, who is an undersecretary of state and who sits behind the table—I’m sure you’ve seen on the television how the seating is. He was saying to someone on his right that with Sam’s ratings being so low, it was going to be tough to get the legislation through Congress.” Beth grimaced and the tears appeared again.
“Go on…” she prompted.
“Well, everyone who knows Sam knows he has a bad temper, and everyone tip toes around him for that reason. But he’s always held it in check in front of everyone but me. And yesterday, he….he….” She broke down now and began to cry. “He stood up, turned around to Dominic and hit him, hit him in the face with his fist!”
Taylor’s eyes grew wide. This told her the President’s personality problems were breaking out, that he was no longer able to contain his anger, that he was deteriorating. “So then what happened?” she asked.
“Two people grabbed Sam by the shoulder, but he shrugged them off, and then he sat back down and acted like nothing had happened. Everyone in the room was silent, not knowing what to do, not knowing what to expect next. Richard told me there was this long silence and then Sam said, “So what’s next on the agenda?” He said he appeared calm and smiling, his usual public persona back.”
Taylor’s mind reeled. What if the President of the United States has a psychotic episode? What happens to the country? How is this kept secret and should it be kept secret? Sure, the others who witnessed it could pass it off as too much testosterone, the tension and pressure having ‘got to him.’ They didn’t know that this was the volcano erupting; they didn’t know that it erupted in smaller ways, causing earthquakes in his wife’s world. They may have passed it off as a one-time incident, but she and Beth and perhaps Frank, knew better. The three of them knew there was reason to be frightened. All these thoughts whirled through Taylor’s head, but she simply asked, “Was the man hurt? What did he do?”
“He just sat there. I’m sure he has a sore jaw and is probably bruised. Sam is quite strong, you know.”
“Was anyone from the press there?”
“No, cabinet meetings are confidential; the press are only let in for photo ops or for some announcement. And after Sam left, you know, or you may not know, the President always leaves first. After he left, everyone stayed and broke out talking about what happened. Richard told me that Paul, Sam’s chief of staff, told everyone that in no circumstances whatsoever could this be leaked. He said he reminded them that if the President goes, their jobs go.” Beth put her face in her hands, leaning over with her elbows on her knees.
“So what do you think this means for you?” Taylor asked gently.
Beth sighed and took her hands away. “I think he needs help. And for me, well, I’m more worried about him than ever. Since he’s actually done it in front of other people now, what does this mean, Taylor? Am I in even more danger?” She looked broken, collapsed in a heap in the chair, and looked very, very frightened.
Taylor’s voice became urgent as she asked, “What do you mean, now that h
e’s done it in front of other people? Has he ever hit you, Beth?”
She was silent and didn’t meet Taylor’s eye, looking beyond her into the distance. Taylor wondered if this was what she had promised to tell her. With any other client, she would have pressed, insisted on an answer, but she held back, not for the first time realizing how the magnitude of this client’s position interfered with good practice on her part. Instead, after a few moments of silence, she said, “I think we need to have a conference with Frank. Can that be arranged?”
Beth looked up and nodded dully, “Yes, of course. I’ll see to it.”
Back in her room, Taylor showered quickly, taking her name badge into the bathroom with her and making sure the laptop was secured in the safe. She also backed a chair up to the doors of both her rooms. It wouldn’t keep someone out, but at least it might make a noise if someone tried to come in. The locks were to be changed today, but she now didn’t trust a new key to be assurance enough.
She dressed in her work clothes, which meant a tailored trouser suit. All sorts of catastrophic thoughts were going through her mind as she was dressing. Stay calm, Taylor, deep breathe, and not for the first time asked herself ‘what in the hell have you let yourself into?’
One hour passed and she was reading through the DSM, the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, the bible of her profession, when the phone rang.
“Yes?” she answered.
“This is Frank, could you come to my office in fifteen minutes?”
“Yes, thank you, I’ll be there.”
Frank opened the door the second she tapped on it, as if he’d been standing there waiting. “Sit down, Taylor, please. Coffee?”
She nodded, “Yes, please. I think I need some strong coffee about now.”