by Andy King
First, stop at my supervisor’s office to tell him I’ve changed my mind. It’s been less than an hour, so it’s probably not too late. Then I’ll talk to Carmel, explain that I can wait as long as it takes. I walk down the hall with a bounce in my step, suppressing the urge to whistle.
_______
“Something’s come up,” my supervisor says. He motions for me to shut the door and have a seat.
“You filled my position already? How is that possible?” I sit down and lean forward.
“Well, no.” He goes on to describe an email he received. Evidently a young woman says that she and I had an affair. Worse, the girl is pregnant, she claims it’s my child and says I refuse to prove that it’s not. “Care to comment?”
“It’s bullshit. I don’t even know who this woman is. I haven’t been with a woman since…” I trail off. I don’t have a lawyer and I don’t want to say something that might get me fired later.
“Now that you mention it,” he looks me in the eye, a hard stare, “there’s a rumor that you and the President have been, uh, sleeping together. If that’s true, it’s grounds for immediate dismissal.”
I sense he’s bullying me, that there’s no regulation specifically prohibiting that. District probably has broad powers to discipline me, though. I keep my mouth shut and glare back at him.
“You’re on leave until further notice, Runyon.”
“On what grounds, sir?”
“I don’t need grounds to put you on administrative leave for a few days,” he snarls.
He’s probably right about that, and he’s definitely covering his ass until he can get things sorted out.
I stand up. “Will that be all, sir?”
“You’re dismissed, Runyon.”
I reach for the door handle.
“Runyon?”
I halt and look back.
“Don’t go anywhere. You’ll probably be hearing from an internal affairs agent shortly.”
“Yes, sir.” I open the door and stalk out.
Striding down the hall I realize that the short meeting fell in my favor. My boss didn’t kick me off the premises. On the contrary, he told me to stick around, though I’m sure he meant it differently.
Now I’m on a mission, a quest of honor. I need to track down this email that’s circulating, find the source and deal with it. Next I need to figure out how far the rumor about Cheri and me has spread. Then I’ll go to her and make my pitch. If I have to plead, I will. I’ve already been down on one knee, and I’ll get down on both of them, if that’s what it takes.
The good news is I have allies. Carmel isn’t my friend, but I sense that she would like things to go well for Cheri. I can help with that. My esteem for Director Jefferson went way up, just from the few words we exchanged. I need to talk to him.
I think about my ace in the hole, my smile faint. Kayla Taylor might not have much pull with my love, but she is her mother. Sometimes that counts for more than one might think.
Lips tight, fists clenched, I march down the hall to a tiny office I discovered. I still have my keys and it has a computer. There is no obstacle I can’t overcome. Love will not be denied.
13
Cheri
In the swirling blizzard, there’s not much traffic outside the White House. My appointments bump into each other, with people getting held up in the snow. “Who’s next?” I say into the phone.
Carmel keeps her voice down. “Interior Secretary Tan.”
“Ask him to wait a few minutes, I need to make a phone call.”
Exhaustion is blurring the edges of my vision. Not only have I not had enough sleep—a routine occupational hazard—but the strain of juggling an event that could break this country, while keeping my smoldering emotions in check, is pushing me to the edge. I need a couple of minutes of quiet at the very least.
MacElvain probably thinks he’s lucked out, that he can sequester me, pin me down with the storm. He doesn’t know that I hunted rabbits and hares in winter, so I could eat when Mom was off on her own somewhere. I’m an all-weather kind of gal.
Chief of Staff of the Air Force, General Jordan Perez, is definitely in my camp. A wide, dark-haired fighter, his handshake is like iron. Before departing he said point-blank that I can count on his allegiance. My eyes were merciless when I grilled him, and I’m positive he has no other agenda than what is right for the country. I’m thankful for that, because he told me that another shoe has dropped in Nick MacElvain’s campaign to take me down.
General Perez pledged absolute secrecy, then stood up and saluted. I stood and returned the salute like Gramps taught me, crisp and precise. It’s good to know that I have air cover. If the Army is questionable, I’m going to need the other three main branches of armed forces squarely under my command. I still have to confirm with them, but the Marines under Tom Shelby and Navy under Bobby Heller shouldn’t be a problem, so Perez’s loyalty is a relief.
I pick up the phone. It’s time to fight, no matter how worn out I am.
Josh answers and says, “Just a minute.” I hear him ask someone to leave and shut the door. “I’ve reached five out of the nine,” he says to me.
“And?”
“I’m certain about EuCom, SoCom and StratCom.”
He means European Command, Special Operations and Strategic Command. That’s good, because SoCom and StratCom will play a vital role if I need to take action.
“I’m doubtful about NorthCom and CentCom,” he says. “There’s something else going on. I’ll have to get back to you on that.”
That’s a blow. US Northern Command is key to all domestic operations. It’s understandable, though. NorthCom’s commander is tight with Army General O’Hara.
“That sucks,” I say. “Well, can’t worry about it right now, so let’s focus on the Army. Who’s next in the chain of command?”
Josh reels off some names and we discuss them. I fill him in on the meeting with General Perez.
“Jordan told me that the rumor about Jack Runyon and me is now circulating among the top military brass. He’s still on board, he was just warning me.”
“That kind of plant can only come from one place. It’s going to go viral, if it hasn’t already.”
I throw down my pen, tears filling my eyes. Damn it, no crying! I clench my fist and bang it on the hardwood.
Josh must have heard it. I’m sure he understands my despair. He softens his tone. “You gotta hang in there, Cheri.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Look, I need to tell you. Your friend Runyon has been busy. He called me.”
“Called you?” I look over at a painting of a landscape, wishing I could disappear into it.
“I almost didn’t take the call, but I’m glad I did. He’s heard about the emails with photos, the woman alleging that she’s carrying his child. We talked it over and I realized we have a resource. That Angeline Porter graduated with honors from Stanford. She’s got a Masters in Computer Science. So I thought why not use her? It’s her first day, nobody knows her. I called her, then got in touch with somebody and gave her an upgrade so she can use more NSA tools. It’s all legal.”
“What’s that got to do with Jack?”
“We’ve got our hands full, and Runyon’s all fired up. I gave him Porter’s cell number. If he can work with her on this, maybe they can expose it as a dirty trick. We can nip this in the bud with the media.”
Josh is one smart dude. Jack has a vested interest in tracking down the source. If the rumor about the pregnant woman isn’t true—and I’ll put money on that—he’ll walk through fire to reclaim his honor. Angeline’s loyal. If she has the skills to trace back the email, now that she has the resources, Josh’s idea might work. There are a lot of ifs, but I’m hopeful. It’s one of the few breaks I’ve gotten all day.
“I owe you, Josh.”
“It’s nothing. I’ve got to go.”
I hang up, think through everything quickly, then ask Carmel to send in Secretary Tan.
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A couple of hours later, I’m done, and done in. My second wind, and third, are long gone. Amos Tan and Secretary of Labor Marks had a sheen of deceit in their eyes when I called them on the carpet. I’m pretty sure that MacElvain got to them. Worse, my Veteran Affairs Secretary, Mae Washington, an outspoken critic in the past, flatly told me that my time has come. She can’t wait to get rid of me.
I fear that if the government doesn’t fall in a coup, there will be a move to impeach me. On what grounds, I don’t know, but I’m sure that the opposition will cook up something. Black and White would love to roast my ass over hot coals.
I drag myself out to Carmel’s office to tally the score with her, and slump into a chair.
She peers at me, her concern blatant. “You need to get some rest, Cheri. You look like you’re going to drop.”
“Yeah, I’m so tired my body’s falling off. It’s fatigue, but I’m freaking out, to tell you the truth. I can’t fail. I’ve got to keep the Union together.”
“You sound like Lincoln.”
I blink. This really is a parallel, I guess. What would Old Abe do?
My elbows are propped on my knees. I’m leaning forward, staring at the floor. I shake my head, thwarted at every turn. My meetings tomorrow will complete the picture. There’s nothing to do but wait for Mac’s next move, or the bitter end.
The door knob turns and we look up. Oh crap—Mom.
She floats in, looking fresh as a summer breeze. “I had the most wonderful day. That was so gracious of you, Cherilyn, arranging that tour. This building has so many secrets, and…” She examines my face. “You look terrible, dear.”
“It’s been a long day.”
“Well, I have good news for you.”
“Really? I could use some good news.”
Mom glances over at Carmel as if she’s not sure she should share whatever she wants to say. I flip a hand to say go ahead. Mom pauses for full dramatic effect. Right now I’m not in the mood, but I’m too tired to bitch at her.
“I spoke with your friend, Jack.”
I close my eyes. “Mom.”
She raises a hand. “Hear me out, Cheri. He’s madly in love with you, but he respects you no end. He knows that you’re under a lot of pressure and he knows you need space.”
I give her a corner-eye: get to the point.
“Cherilyn honey, I guess I’m trying to say don’t be like me. I’ve always chased after… I’ve always acted like the grass is greener somewhere else, and never stopped to appreciate what I have. I’ve never accepted who I was with and looked for love right in front of me.”
She looks down at her jacket and flicks away an imaginary piece of lint, then looks back up, her eyes holding mine. “Give him a chance, baby.”
I’m startled at the pure honesty, the affection in my mother’s tone. Kayla has almost always played games with me—I came by my gift for strategy and tactics at an early age, to say the least. For her to confess this now is a shock. After thinking about it, I decide “never too late,” and stand up.
In a couple of steps, I’ve got my arms around her neck in a close hug. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll think about Jack, but thanks for saying that.”
She hugs back, then holds me away. I peer into her eyes. Is that a tear?
Turning her head, she clears her throat. “I just wanted you to know. Besides, you seem more mature somehow.”
My mother is rarely caught off guard. I realize we haven’t hugged like that in years, maybe since I was a kid. Her grin is slight.
I smile back. “Let’s have dinner. I’ll ask the kitchen to whip something up for the three of us.” I glance at Carmel. “You in?”
“With what’s going on outside? I’m not leaving.”
I hold up a finger, go back to my desk and make sure there are no new texts or calls. There’s nothing to do but have a nice supper, then get some much needed sleep. I gather Mom and Carmel. We stroll down the hall with a couple of agents.
14
Cheri
Getting ready for bed I’m thinking of Jack, wondering what he’s up to. I need to rest, though. The next day or two will make all the difference. Either my administration goes down in flames, or we’ll live to fight again.
Just as I lie down, I hear that familiar muted warble. Crap.
There’s a soft knock on the door.
“Yes?” I shout sharply.
The agent who swings the door open says, “Excuse me, ma’am. Ms. Monroe said you’d want to know.”
“What is it?”
“Agent Runyon is here, outside. He’s uh, insisting on seeing you. Ma’am.” The agent’s eyes leave no doubt that he disapproves. He’s an older man, and he keeps his gaze level with mine, not looking at my T-shirt and whatever might be underneath.
Staring back at him, I’m blinded. My brain’s a stock car, big engine screaming, accelerator pedal to the floor, steering wheel spinning out of control, a concrete wall flying at me. The avalanche of crap that’s fallen on me has me on the verge of resigning, just so I can breathe. For Jack to show up now, demanding attention, is more than I can endure. I’m going to snap.
Why am I picturing my mother’s eyes misting up?
In a flash I’m grabbing a pair of sweats, slipping them on, to the agent’s discomfort. I shrug into a sweatshirt and slide on a pair of moccasins. “I’ll meet with him in the sitting room.”
The agent flees. I brush my hair and check my face, thinking about lipstick. Never mind. It’s late, and Jack gets what he gets. I’ve made one decision since talking with Mom. I need to know if Jack really means what he says. Then I’ll take it from there.
I walk into the sitting room. He enters through the other door. We stare at each other, and then I surprise myself. I run over and hug him tightly, right in front of the other agent.
Lifting my head, I tell the man to wait just outside the door. I’ll call him if I need him. He hustles out.
Again I startle myself. “I’m sorry,” I say, looking up into Jack’s eyes.
He looks beat up and miserable. Caressing my hair, he murmurs, “Me, too.”
He steps away. “Director Jefferson told me to talk to Angeline Porter, so I did. The Director sent her this email. We’ve been working on it.”
I wait, looking into his eyes. There’s nothing but genuine concern.
“In Iraq we called it BOGINT, bogus intelligence. It’s faked, well the attachments, the images.” He runs a hand through his hair, obviously frustrated. “I don’t know who this person is, this woman in the photos, and the screenshots of emails back and forth, supposedly me and her?” He shrugs. “Anybody can write an email and take a screenshot, so here’s what we did.”
He goes on to say that he gave Angeline access to his private email account and Secret Service account. Technically that might be a violation, but given the circumstances he had to make a judgment call.
I bob my head in agreement. I’ll have a word with the Director if it comes to that.
Angeline used a program to analyze the emails—the NSA has dozens of those, I’m aware. The two accounts that Jack had her scan are clean. There’s no contact with the complainant in them at all. Sure, Jack could have another account, but the perpetrators of the fraud weren’t careful enough. They faked the emails in the screenshots to look as though they came from Jack’s Service account.
“So it’s all bullshit,” I say, knowing it is, I just have to say it out loud.
“Yeah.”
His shoe slides on the carpet as he twists toward me. A corner of my mouth pulls up—I know what’s coming. In one motion he shovels me up and strolls to the sofa. He backs up to it, and his butt lands like a sack of flour as he cushions my fall with his lap.
I love his touch, and I love the reckless gesture. You don’t pick up the President of the United States without asking, no matter who you are.
To hell with it. I snuggle into his chest and lift my hand to his cheek. “Jack?”
The fingers of one of hi
s hands are in my hair, the other hand lightly cupping my breast. “Um hmmm?” He leans in so our foreheads touch, our eyes inches from each other.
“There’s a real bed in the other room.” After only having sex with him in my office it would be nice to stretch out on a good mattress.
“Uh huh.”
In a flash he’s carrying me through the door.
He tosses me on the bed. I squeak with glee. More open to anything now, I need a release. I start to take off my sweatshirt.
“Let me help you with that,” he says. I feel his fingers on me. Goose bumps race down my back, loop around my waist and dart down the backs of my legs. He slowly slips off my clothes, his big hands making me break out in a sweat.
His sandpaper cheeks brush my skin. I’m turned on even more, and grab him by the hair, forcing his mouth to mine, kissing with savage greed. He kisses back, his tongue dominating, his beefiness pinning me to the mattress, fueling my fervor. My back is soaked, everything’s soaked. He moves down to my chest. I wriggle, sifting his hair with fingertips.
His tongue is hot, his lips searing. He inhales deeply. My eyes roll up in my head. Something about him wanting my scent gets me hotter. It’s raw and rousing, and kindles my fever. A skirl of steam escapes my lips. I’m burning up and we haven’t hardly started. If he doesn’t hurry I’m going to start begging.
He stands up and unbuckles his belt, then draws down his zipper, teasing me like a stripper. I’m thrilled, and smile until my face hurts. My body knows what’s coming, zinging at the promise of joy.
I jerk when I feel him against my leg. He lays down his wide load, daring me to move, gently pressing on my desire, rousing me.
“You fucker,” I groan.
“At your service, ma’am.”
“I really want you, but I have to ask. I told Carmel to line me up with a pregnancy test. I can’t afford to have a child.”
He lowers his chest onto mine, pinning me, pressing me to the mattress, flattening my stomach.
Holding my wrists over my head so I’m about as submissive as it gets, he says, “Is that so?”