Zero Day

by Jan Gangsei

  And on the sixth day, the man finally let her come out of her room to join the family.

  Addie craned her neck and watched Darrow disappear around the corner. She hadn’t expected to see him come out of Harper’s studio. And it was clear he hadn’t expected to see her, either. She could tell by the look on his face. It reminded her of when they used to play Go Fish back in the governor’s mansion. It was always obvious whenever Darrow drew the card Addie needed. He was totally incapable of holding anything in. Also, Darrow was never late. For anything.

  So what was he trying to hide from her this time?

  She didn’t know, but she would find out. Because she was pretty sure it wasn’t the ace of spades. And this wasn’t a game of Go Fish anymore.

  Darrow sat at his desk at home, the childish butterfly locket laid out in front of him. The glue Addie’s nanny had used to fix it had long since given way, a single broken hinge barely holding the two halves of the wings together. Darrow flipped it open and pulled Harper’s bug from his pocket. He licked his lips and carefully placed it in the center, breath held.

  A perfect fit.

  Darrow exhaled. He unscrewed the glue and squeezed a new coat around the edges. It wasn’t pretty, but he hoped it would work. He closed the locket and held it tightly shut, the cool metal leaving wing imprints on his thumb and forefinger. In less than five minutes it was as good as new.

  Or at least, as good as it had been nine years ago.

  He gave it a shake. The glue held, and the secret inside barely rattled. Now to make sure it worked.

  He turned on the black walkie-talkie, held it to his ear, and spoke into the locket.

  “Testing, testing,” echoed back at him.

  Darrow switched off the receiver, shoved it all into his desk, and went to bed, even though he knew sleep would be almost impossible now.

  The wind from Marine One’s blades lifted Addie’s hair and sent it whipping around her face. She should have followed her mother’s lead and tucked it into a ponytail. Instead, she was now stuck pulling long black strands from her lip gloss while the White House press corps snapped photos. It was early Saturday morning and the president was returning from a two-day economic summit in Brazil, just in time for a huge reception tonight at the White House in Addie’s honor.

  The green-and-white helicopter lowered onto the South Lawn, not far from where the drone had landed next to Addie days earlier. Her stomach lurched. Something wasn’t right. No one had come forward to take credit. And when she’d tried to make contact this morning, she discovered the secure chat room had been shut down with no warning.

  The helicopter’s rotor blades spun to a stop straight ahead and the door opened. The silver stairs dropped down and the president exited, flanked by white-gloved Marines and followed by staffers typing on their smartphones. The president stopped at the base of the stairs, saluted the Marines, and strode across the lawn to his family. He gathered Mackenzie in his arms and hugged Addie and her mother.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” he said, tightening his grip around Addie.

  Click, click, click went the cameras in the background. Everything was a photo op. Never a private moment. Addie longed to go back to the shadows and be anonymous again.

  “I missed you, too, Daddy,” Mackenzie said, head buried in his shoulder. Liz Webster kissed her husband on the cheek.

  “Welcome home, hon,” she said.

  “Hope you had a nice trip,” Addie said.

  “I did,” the president said. “But it’s good to be back.”

  He turned and waved at the photographers and led the family inside. They boarded the elevator and retreated to the relative quiet of the residence. Addie prepared to head back to her room, to try and untangle her hair along with her thoughts. But the president caught her gently by the arm.

  “Ad, honey,” he said. “Do you have a minute? I was hoping we could spend a little time together.”

  “Sure, Dad,” she said, attempting a smile.

  The president gave Liz a knowing nod, concern crinkling the edges of his eyes. Liz immediately took Mackenzie by the hand. “C’mon, Mackie monkey, let’s go have a look at your dresses for the party tonight.”

  “I don’t want to go to the party tonight,” Mackenzie whined. “I want to stay here. And show Daddy my new blocks.”

  Addie didn’t want to go to any party either. Blocks sounded much better.

  “Tell you what, Mackie,” Liz said. “Why don’t we go build something together right now. And you can show Daddy later. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Mackenzie said with a sigh. “But I still don’t want to go to any parties. There are too many people there.”

  “I know, honey,” Liz said. “It’s just for tonight. Then you won’t have to go to another one for a long time. I promise.”

  Liz and Mackenzie headed to the playroom.

  “Have you had breakfast yet?” the president asked.

  “Just some coffee,” Addie answered.

  “I figured,” the president said. “Me too. Let’s go to the kitchen. I’ll whip us up something to eat.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Addie said.

  “No,” the president said, “I want to. I’m hungry. And they never let me cook around here. Crazy, right? I’ve literally got my finger on the nuclear button, but apparently I can’t be trusted not to burn the house down. Come on. It’ll be like the old days.”

  “Ha,” Addie said. “Lead the way.”

  She followed him into the kitchen, where he hung his jacket on a chair before taking out containers of flour, milk, chocolate chips, and butter, and dumping everything into a mixing bowl. Flour puffed everywhere, coating the countertop, containers—even the president’s shirt. He patted himself, spreading more white stuff around.

  “Are you sure they just don’t let you cook because you’re a mess, not because they’re afraid you’ll start a fire?” Addie said with a small laugh.

  “You know,” the president said, “I think you may be right. Although I haven’t started cooking yet.…”

  He pulled out a skillet and set it on a burner, cranking up the gas. Addie watched the blue flames licking the bottom of the pan as the president poured in the batter. While it cooked, he pulled two plates from the cabinet and set them on the kitchen table, with forks and knives on either side.

  “Have a seat, peanut,” he said.

  “Do you need some help?” Addie said.

  “No, I’ve got it. Go on, sit down.”

  Addie pulled out a chair and sat in front of a place setting. A moment later, the president shuffled over, holding the steaming skillet. With a flick of the spatula, he slid a pancake onto Addie’s plate, then one on his own.

  “Well?” he asked, smiling. “What do you think? Do I still have my magic touch?”

  Addie looked down at her plate. A chocolate-chip pancake shaped like a bear sat in the center. To her surprise, she choked up a little, a rush of memories overwhelming her all at once. Addie, kneeling on the barstool in their Clifton kitchen, pouring in the chocolate chips while her dad mixed the batter. Decorating her bear with little pats of butter and a syrup shirt.

  “It’s great,” she said.

  “Just how you like it?”

  Addie nodded, even though she hadn’t had a bear pancake since she was eight. Since before…

  The president hurried to the refrigerator and grabbed syrup and butter, placing them on the table. “Can’t forget the accoutrements,” he said.

  Addie smiled sadly. He was trying so hard. Why couldn’t she at least pretend to be happy?

  The president sat down in the chair next to her and dug into his pancake. “Not too bad,” he said. “And I didn’t burn down the kitchen.”

  “No, you didn’t,” Addie said as she ate. “This was really sweet. Thanks, Dad.”

  She finished her pancake, wiped away the syrup from the edges of her mouth, and began to stand. The president placed his hand on hers.

  “Hold o
n, peanut,” he said. “Don’t go just yet. I need to talk to you about something.” The sickly taste of pancake rose up in Addie’s throat. “Oh? What is it?”

  Something about the way the president began to link and unlink his fingers made her uneasy. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him this nervous. Even that night at the Richmond Hilton ten years ago, when the family had waited for the result of the gubernatorial election in the hotel’s ballroom.

  “There’s something you need to know,” he said. “I got a call today. From the director of the FBI.”

  Sweat began to form along Addie’s hairline. The FBI? She was sure she’d been careful. Covering her tracks every time she went online. Had she made a mistake? Or was it that busboy? Addie knew something was off. She took a few shallow breaths, ready to fake a panic attack if she needed to. “Oh?”

  “Yes. I’m not sure how to put this,” the president said, “so I’m going to come right out and say it.”

  Addie blinked several times. “Okay.”

  The president put his hand on her knee. “They’ve found the people who held you captive. David and Helene.”

  “What?” The room began to spin. Addie’s lungs momentarily forgot how to breathe. She put her hands on her knees and gasped for air. “I don’t understand.”

  “I know, honey,” the president said. “This is all just going down so quickly. I only got the call a half hour ago. I’ve barely had time to process it myself. But I wanted to make sure you heard it from me first, before it blows up all over the news.”

  “All over the news?” Addie repeated back.

  “Yes, the FBI is preparing to move in, but they have to plan accordingly because, as you know, there are children in the house. And, they have reason to believe, a large stockpile of weapons.”

  “The children are in the house?” Addie said, voice quivering.

  “Yes,” the president said. “But don’t worry, okay? The FBI is taking every precaution. They will not make a move unless it’s safe.”

  “But how can they be sure they have the right people?” Addie said.

  “The sketches you provided the Secret Service with are close matches,” the president said. “Of course, I’m sure they will need you to make a positive identification. But they have other evidence.”

  “Like what?”

  The president nodded. “E-mail communications between some of the remaining members of Judgment Day, from what I understand. The FBI and Secret Service are still very much in fact-gathering mode. But the real kicker is, it turns out Helene Brown has a brother. Half brother, actually. Guy by the name of Dawson Cooper, who just so happened to work at the governor’s mansion as a groundskeeper at the time of your abduction.”

  “Whoa.” Addie felt light-headed. She tried to fit the pieces together in her mind. But it was like they all came from different puzzles, locking together and forming a picture that made no sense.

  The president exhaled. “Can’t believe that slipped by us eight years ago. Every employee was grilled several times over, but no connection was ever made. Helene and Dawson had different mothers, different last names, and didn’t grow up together. It wasn’t even apparent that they knew each other at the time.”

  Addie sucked in a breath. “I can’t believe it,” she said. She rubbed her head and whispered, “I think I need to lie down for a little bit, if that’s okay.”

  “Of course it is. I completely understand,” the president said. He helped Addie to her feet. “This is all an awful lot to take in, I know. I’ll walk you to your room.”

  “No, I’m okay,” Addie said. “You can stay here. You just got back. I’m sure you have work to do.”

  The president hesitated.

  “Okay,” he said. “In the meantime, please keep this discussion between us. The investigation is ongoing.”

  “Of course, I understand,” Addie said. “Thank you for confiding in me.”

  “You deserve to know. It’s thanks to you that they even found them. I will keep you updated as soon as I know anything,” he said.

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “You’re welcome, Addie. We will get through this. Together. I love you more than anything.”

  “I love you, too,” she said.

  Addie hurried to her room at the end of the hall, and on the way passed her mother and Mackenzie sorting blocks in the playroom. Mackenzie counted as she stacked. Liz’s eyes darted in Addie’s direction and she began to speak. But Addie kept staggering forward, afraid her feet would forget how to move again if she stopped.

  She stumbled into her room, barely breathing, and slammed the door shut.

  The Janie Liu gown was laid out on her bed, pressed and ready for her welcome-home reception tonight. It was almost more than Addie could take. The walls felt like they were starting to close in, crushing her from all sides.

  She grabbed her computer. It was cool and slick beneath her sweaty fingers. She flipped it open and began to type a warning. But it was pointless.

  She had nowhere to send it.

  The line of well-wishers had snaked all the way around the corner all night, out of the East Room and down the red carpet of the Cross Hall. Addie had been standing here for more than two hours with the president, the first lady, and her little sister. Her back hurt from wearing high heels, and every time a tray of shrimp passed by, the sickly ocean smell made her queasy. The gown she’d felt so beautiful in, just nights before, now felt like a straightjacket. Standing here, she was nothing more than a decoration. Like one of the gilded eagles that formed the base of the grand piano across the room.

  Finally, the end of the line approached. Yet another D.C. power couple, subtly Botoxed faces displaying the requisite mix of relief and concern. Addie didn’t recognize them, but she definitely knew the type: the tailored suit, the Louis Vuitton wingtips, the Hervé Leger dress with pearl choker. High-powered lobbyists. Lawyers. Maybe wealthy donors. It didn’t really matter; they were all the same. All here for their two minutes of face time with the most powerful man in the world.

  “Honey,” the president said, wrapping an arm around Addie’s waist, “I’d like to introduce you to Brad and Rebecca Martin. Rebecca was one of the primary fund-raisers on my presidential campaign.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Addie said. Her cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

  The woman grabbed Addie by both hands. “Oh, Addie,” she said. “You don’t know how hard we prayed for your return.”

  Addie’s face started to burn. She couldn’t help it. She was worn-out, rubbed raw by all the hugs, handshakes, and faux concern. If people had done all the praying they’d claimed to, there’d be a giant hole in heaven right now. Maybe they should have spent a little more time looking for her, and a little less time reading the polls and holding fund-raisers.

  “Guess it must have paid off,” Addie said, the fake smile pressed hard into her cheeks. “Here I am, just in time for campaign season.”

  The woman’s perfectly tweezed eyebrow arched. “Excuse me?”

  Addie just grinned wider and shrugged. Rebecca Donor, whatever-her-name-was, cleared her throat and moved on to Mackenzie.

  “And how are you tonight, dear?” she said, kneeling.

  Mackenzie, who had spent most of the night with her face hidden in the folds of Liz Webster’s dress, peeked at the woman, eyes wide. It made Addie even more annoyed. What right did they have to drag a six-year-old out here? To make her meet and greet D.C.’s finest, when she clearly would rather be home with her books and building blocks? Addie felt like slapping someone on Mackenzie’s behalf, like grabbing her sister and hiding her from the limelight.

  “I think she would like to be left alone,” Addie said. “Besides, she’s too young to vote, you know.”

  Rebecca Donor’s face blanched. “Well, I…” She put her hand to her neck and clutched the pearls that coiled three times around it like a snake.

  “Rebecca, I’m very sorry,” the First Lady cut in. “It’s been a long night for
Addie. She’s not herself.”

  Not herself? What did they expect? She’d been gone eight years. And right now, two innocent people were about to be arrested because of her. Nothing made sense anymore. Her fists clenched so tightly her fingernails dug into her palms. She was about to open her mouth again when Darrow came walking briskly across the room, eyes trained on her. He was wearing a black tuxedo and an easy smile. The heat rose in Addie’s face. She couldn’t decide whether she was happy he was headed her way, or if she wanted to take off her shoe and throw it at him.

  “Hi, Addie.” Darrow sidestepped Rebecca Donor and took Addie by the elbow. “Mr. President, Mrs. Webster, sorry for interrupting. Can I borrow Addie for a minute? The band is playing my favorite song, and the only way she’ll dance with me is if I publicly embarrass her.”

  Addie definitely should have thrown her shoe at him.

  President Webster laughed, clearly relieved that the awkward conversation had been broken up. “I’m sure we could all use a quick dance break. Rebecca?” He held out his hand and Rebecca Donor beamed. Addie tried not to gag as Darrow pulled her away.

  “I’m not interested in dancing,” she said.

  “Me neither,” Darrow said. “I don’t even know what that song is. You just looked like you could use a break.”

  Darrow pulled Addie around the corner, into the appropriately named Green Room. She squinted, taking in the green Oriental carpet, green chairs, and green walls.

  “It looks like someone puked in here,” she said.

  Darrow laughed. But Addie didn’t. Her nostrils flared.

  “Are you okay?” Darrow said. He’d been watching her the whole evening, as more than a hundred of President Webster’s donors, friends, and colleagues lined up for their chance to welcome Addie back. With each hug and handshake, she’d seemed like a flower whose petals were being pulled off one by one. All that remained were the thorns.