All the President’s Menus (28 page)

A female Secret Service agent met me as I exited Blair House. “Ms. Paras?” she said pleasantly. “Come with me.”

The entire area between 17th and 15th Streets had been cordoned off from pedestrian traffic, with D.C. Metro Police cars—lights flashing—on both sides. The area was as desolate as I’d ever seen it, save for the perimeter of uniformed cops and agents keeping curious onlookers at bay.

My cotton scrubs were no match for the chilly evening. I wrapped my arms around myself. The flat cotton slippers I’d been given slapped against the cold pavement.

Although I’d been allowed to keep my wedding ring on, I’d had to relinquish my watch until it, too, could be examined and decontaminated. “What time is it?” I asked the agent as we made our way toward the gate.

“Four
A.M.
,” she said.

I took a long look at the sky. “Seems about right.”

“Are you tired?” she asked. “Do you want me to call for a golf cart?”

“I’m fine,” I said. That wasn’t entirely true. Fatigue was setting in, if not in my brain, in my weary body. And the Prussian Blue—as promised—was making me queasy.

Once we’d made it through the gate checkpoint, I expected to be led around the back, into the kitchen. Instead, she kept going to the White House front door.

The front of the White House was lit up brightly for this time of night. When the agent and I stepped in, the Entrance Hall was deserted except for a few guards on duty.

“This way,” she said.

The sound of quiet conversation met us as we approached the Green Room. At the doorway, my escort stepped aside. “Go on in,” she said.

The president and secretary of state sat knee to knee, immersed in what looked like a tense discussion. The two men were both wearing casual clothing, though nothing quite as informal as what I had on. They looked up when I walked in.

“Ollie!” President Hyden said with considerably more cheer than he’d greeted me earlier. He got to his feet, and started toward me.

At the same moment, a figure at the far window turned. I hadn’t noticed him when I’d first walked in. “Gav!”

He made it across the room, grabbing me into his arms faster than the president could close the short distance between us.

It felt so good to be held, felt so right to have the night’s horror behind me that I pressed my face into his chest and stayed there a long, comforting while. When I raised my head, I noticed the president was still waiting patiently to talk to me.

I could barely get any words out. “Is everyone all right?” I asked.

“It seems so,” President Hyden said. He gestured toward the room’s striped couch. “You’ve had a busy evening again. Have a seat.”

Gav released me, and the two of us sat as requested. The president nodded to the secretary of state, who came over, thanked me, and then left the room without another word.

“Where were you?” I asked Gav. “I never meant to barge in on dinner.”

Gav started to answer, but whether it was exhaustion or relief that kept me going, I blathered on. “I had every intention of bringing my suspicions to you and letting you take it from there, but . . .” I shrugged helplessly, bouncing my glances between the two men. “I had to improvise.”

Gav and the president exchanged a look. Again Gav started to answer. Again I interrupted.

“And what about Tibor? I’m worried that Cleto did something to him. Has he ever been found? Is he all right?”

“Tibor is in the hospital,” the president said. “He’s recovering.”

“What happened?”

Gav took up the story. “Cleto drugged him with what we believe was the same compound that was used on Kilian.”

“What? Kilian’s death wasn’t from natural causes?”

Again they exchanged a meaningful look. “We have forensics teams putting pieces together,” the president said.

“We can’t say for certain what killed Kilian because we weren’t allowed to perform an autopsy,” Gav continued. “After last evening’s events, however, we have been able to uncover an e-mail trail between Cleto and Hector and Nate.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Kilian began to suspect that Hector and Nate were up to no good. Because he trusted Cleto, he shared his concerns. That was a mistake. Apparently, Cleto assured Kilian he would take care of things. He did. On his orders, Nate slipped a toxin into Kilian’s drink.”

“That’s the same day Hector passed out,” I said. “I don’t get it. Was that just a ruse?”

“Again,” Gav said, “we don’t have all the answers, but from what we’re beginning to understand, Nate was sent here to get rid of Kerry Freiberg. Because he required assistance, Hector was brought on to help him. We think Nate was beginning to doubt Hector’s allegiance, so he slipped him a lesser dosage of the drug to remind him who was boss.”

“Was Nate responsible for drugging Marcel, too?”

“The first time Marcel was hospitalized? No,” Gav said. “We’re confident that Marcel double-dosed his medication. The second time, however, we believe Nate was indeed responsible. In order to test the potency of the drug, he needed to experiment on someone. Nate administered the drug to Marcel via the chocolate drink assuming no one would think it suspicious if the pastry chef collapsed again.”

“That’s terrible,” I said. “So you’re telling me that Cleto recruited Nate and the two of them masterminded this attack?”

Gav held his hand out toward the president.

“Ollie,” President Hyden began, “I can’t begin to thank you for always being so alert and for saving me and the members of my family, not to mention an untold number of innocent bystanders, over the years.”

“Do I sense a ‘but’?” I asked.

He smiled. “Not exactly. What I’m trying to say is that your involvement in issues of national security over the years has made you privy to a great deal of information that you would not otherwise possess.”

I waited.

He went on, “You have been consistent in your trustworthiness with regard to the truth behind classified information. You’ve never shared anything you’ve been asked to keep confidential.”

“That’s true. I would never.”

“Based on your constancy, we are prepared to offer you a choice,” he said. “It’s my decision to give you that choice, but you have to decide which way you want to go.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We can explain everything that happened, including who was responsible,” he said. “Or you can walk away not knowing the whole truth.”

“Why would I not want to know the truth?”

“Because,” he said, “truth does not always bring justice. This is a big one, Ollie, and if I’m to tell you what went down, I need you to promise that you’ll keep it to yourself.”

After that warning, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to hear. Yet, if I declined, would I be able to put this matter out of my mind with all the questions that were still burning in my brain? I was tired and wanted to go home. I didn’t want to have to push myself further tonight, or to make a promise that would be painful to keep. And yet, I needed to know.

“Tell me,” I said. “I won’t breathe a word.”

And they did.

*   *   *

Bucky, Cyan, Marcel, and his assistant were fine. None had been exposed to any thallium whatsoever. They were all granted paid leave for the following two days.

Although the rest of my team knew that Cleto had attempted to coat Frosty’s fur with powdered thallium, they’d been sworn to secrecy on the matter. They didn’t know why Cleto had done it, and I had to pretend I didn’t know why, either. The other guests who had been around the dinner table had likewise been fully informed about the thallium threat, and treated according to their exposure. The same held true for my two butler friends.

The remaining staff at Blair House, however, was being fed an entirely different version. One that involved an unfortunate accident, and the subsequent need to go to red-alert on safety. Those whose thallium levels were zero were being told that the emergency measures had ultimately proved to be unnecessary. I didn’t know how many people present that evening would believe the fabrication, but keeping the truth from them wasn’t my decision to make.

Kerry Freiberg and Frosty, the targets of the attack, were fine. Both were healthy and recuperating at Camp David until everything could be cleared up.

What proved to be the most explosive revelation, however, was that Cleto and Nate were
not
the masterminds behind this attack. For all the trouble they’d caused, and all the risks they’d assumed, they were little more than pawns.

The current president of Saardisca, a man whose name was nearly impossible to pronounce, had become concerned about Kerry Freiberg’s growing popularity. He’d never been seriously challenged in an election before. This time, his lead was diminishing as his challenger’s strength grew.

Cleto had been ordered to take her out. He’d been further instructed to have it done on American soil in the company of President Hyden, so that the United States could be blamed for its lack of control, its inability to keep a precious Saardiscan safe. That way, they reasoned, not only would Kerry Freiberg die, but the beliefs she held—so similar to those of U.S. citizens—would die with her.

The fact that the assassination directive had come from Saardisca’s highest power was what I could never discuss with anyone in my life except Gav.

“But,” I’d said to the president when he’d finished explaining, “won’t the current Saardiscan president have to answer for this? Shouldn’t he be thrown out of office?”

President Hyden’s eyes tensed. “If it were up to me, he would be brought up on charges today. Unfortunately, it isn’t up to any of us. Their country has a different culture and far different laws. We can’t touch him.”

“What if this information was made public?”

“The secretary of state is looking into that possibility right now. From what we can tell, however, this sort of bombshell wouldn’t have the impact you and I would expect. Rather than hurt the current president, the mission’s failure could—believe it or not—incite some of his more radical followers to take Kerry out themselves. For now, we believe it’s best to keep this quiet.”

“That’s terrible.”

“I agree.”

“So what happens? This just gets swept under the rug?”

He made a so-so motion. “If we find ways to use this information to bring justice, we will. That may not be for some time, though.”

My head was spinning, though no longer from fatigue. I’d caught my second wind. “What about Kerry Freiberg’s safety? Does she know all this?”

He nodded. “She does. Rather than dissuade her, it has deepened her resolve to win the election and to be an instrument of change in her country.”

“That’s admirable, but frightening,” I said. “Nate and Hector have been sent back to Saardisca. What about Cleto and Tibor?”

The president waved a finger. “Cleto will not be returning to Saardisca. We can manage that much, at least. You need to know that we have Tibor to thank for knowing as much as we do.”

“Tibor?”

The president continued. “When Kilian reported his concerns to Cleto and wound up dead, Tibor began to get suspicious of his colleagues. He wisely kept his concerns to himself.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” I said. “He never hesitated to spout Saardiscan platitudes, but when it came to personal matters, he was frustratingly mute.”

“Cleto wanted Tibor to voluntarily step away from attending the dinner,” the president continued. “Tibor refused. Despite the fact that he had no desire to attend, he believed it was his duty to do so.”

I made eye contact with Gav, who picked up the story. “Which is exactly what you had asserted all along, Ollie. Tibor’s absence made no sense. If he’d been planning an attempt on Kerry Freiberg, then why not show up? That’s why agents were sent to take a closer look at the hotel where the Saardiscans were staying. When they reported back that they had located Tibor and required assistance, however, the agent in charge at Blair House took it to mean that the man presented a threat.”

The look in Gav’s eyes seemed to offer an apology for not being there for me. I laid a hand on his knee, silently reminding him that I understood. No apology necessary.

“The special agent in charge sent me to take over,” he went on. “This came as a direct order with no time to let you know where I was going or what I was doing. It wasn’t until I arrived on the scene—to find Tibor drugged and tied up in Cleto’s room—that I realized the real threat was still at Blair House. I radioed back to warn the team that Cleto was our target, but by that time you’d sounded the alert.”

“What was he thinking?” I asked. “Cleto, I mean?”

“Remember, Nate was supposed to poison Ms. Freiberg, with Hector’s help,” Gav reminded me. “When that plan got scrapped, Cleto took over. He had no one else here to trust.”

“You said Tibor is all right?” I asked.

“He is,” the president answered. “Had he been found much later, that may not have been the case. He has been a great help clearing this matter up.”

“Poor Tibor,” I said. “He’s such a loyal Saardiscan. This must be incredibly painful for him.”

“More than you realize.” The president’s face was grim. “Because he cooperated with us, Tibor cannot return to Saardisca. Not safely, at least. We have offered him asylum, and expect he will take us up on it.”