Buffalo West Wing (36 page)

“You make it sound like I’m the guilty one.”

He sighed. “Your friend Tom is leading the investigation. He’s not pleased.”

“Not pleased? About Nourie turning out to be a terrorist?”

“He’s most definitely not happy about that. But he seemed just as upset that it was you involved.” Gav gave me a pointed look. “He was very worried about you.”

I decided to ignore that. “It wasn’t supposed to be me,” I said. “This time it was supposed to be Virgil. I was a last-minute replacement.”

“We know that. And I think that tonight, Mrs. Hyden is thanking God that it was you and not Virgil who was there for Josh.”

I stared at the ceiling. “The whole time I was out there I was wishing it had been Virgil. But now that it’s over, I guess I’m glad it was me, too.”

“You saved that kid.”

“I didn’t really,” I said. “They planned to use him to negotiate. They never planned to harm him.”

“Those kind of men don’t play fair. They promise only when they believe it will help them achieve their objective. I guarantee you, once Farbod was released from prison, they would have disposed of Josh.”

I shuddered. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

We were silent a long moment. “The main guy, Sami, said that they’d killed one of our special agents.” It was hard for me to speak the words. “I thought it was you.”

Gav’s mouth tightened. He took a breath before answering. “You probably didn’t know Agent Schumann.”

I shook my head. “I’m so sorry.”

“He was a good man who died in service to his country. We probably couldn’t have found you without his help.” He rubbed my back. “You’re very brave, Ollie. Not many people could have held up the way you did.”

“How did Nourie get so high up in the Secret Service? How did he even get in? Don’t you guys do background checks anymore?”

“Nourie is one of a whole new breed. And I mean that literally. Our enemies are birthing and breeding terrorists in secret. Nourie’s family is as clean-cut, all-American as you can find. Only now, when we know where to dig, are we discovering that his family has ties to Armustan. Nourie’s path was set from the time he was born. These people grow the kids in happy, suburban settings, where the parents are model citizens. Not one of them has a hair out of place. Their connections to the terrorist cells are buried so deeply underground that the links are impossible to track.”

“I don’t understand,” I said.

Gav sighed. “Take Nourie, for instance. His background, education, career? All squeaky-clean. His parents are also squeaky-clean. We checked them thoroughly before we accepted him. Right? But maybe his father gets his car fixed by a mechanic who frequents a bar where the bartender ‘knows’ some people.”

“And that’s how they communicate?”

“It isn’t very efficient, but it is effective. It’s a scary world, Ollie. And the terrorists are getting smarter every day. Bost started following up on a lead for me. That’s part of why he was chafing at Tom’s orders. We didn’t suspect Nourie, not until the last moment. And Bost decided to move—on his own—when he started to put pieces together. He inadvertently messed up Nourie’s plans. Good man.”

“Oh God, I have a hundred questions. Probably more than that.”

“You know you won’t get them all answered.”

“I figured as much.”

Gav’s hand was still on my back. I liked it there.

One thing still bothered me. “How did you know where to find us? Once we left that house ...”

“One of our teams found the location. Obviously too late. It was your text that saved you. You said they were getting ready to broadcast.” His hand skimmed down my back and dropped to his lap. “Agent Schumann was our operative in that cell. He was new to them, so he remained low on their totem pole. That is to say he knew nothing of the cell’s infiltration of the Secret Service and he knew nothing about the arsenic poisoning. We hoped, in time, he would bring us back the kind of intelligence we needed to save lives. We had no idea that time would come so soon.”

I still didn’t understand.

“He was one of their drivers, taking midlevel bad guys where they wanted to go. He had seen and reported the cameras and equipment for a broadcast, but he had no idea what they were planning, or when. Nothing he’d seen was illegal, but his information proved invaluable. When you texted, telling us what they had in mind, we knew exactly where to go. And I just thank God you were there.”

“I was so worried that I’d told you the wrong kind of car.”

Gav chuckled. “You did good, kid. Again.”

We sat facing each other on the sofa, our knees so close they almost touched. “You have no idea how happy I was to hear from you,” I said softly. “When we were stuck in that bathroom and I saw that you were okay ...”

He smiled so gently it nearly broke my heart.

“Ollie,” he said, taking both my hands in his, “your last message ...”

I couldn’t remember what I’d sent last. I shook my head.

“You wrote, ‘I hope.’ What were you going to say?”

“Ah ...” I said softly, remembering. I stared down at our joined hands. Looking up, I wondered if his eyes were actually blue. I’d always thought they were gray. Right now I couldn’t quite tell. But maybe I would have time to find out. “I was going to say that I hope if we got out of all this, you could stop thinking of yourself as a jinx. And maybe ...”

“Maybe?”

I didn’t finish.

He brushed hair out of my eyes. “You’re beautiful.”

I laughed.

“But you’re tired,” he said. “I can see it in your eyes.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” I said, “but now I’m finally starting to relax.”

“Shh. Come here.” He put his arm around me and tucked me in, close. “Sleep a little. I’ll watch over you.”

As I nestled in, I felt exhaustion wash over me like an old friend. Just as I started to doze, I remembered something. “Gav?”

His chin rested on top of my head as he stroked my hair. “Yeah?”

“How old are you?”

He told me. Even in my blissful half-asleep state I could do the math. “Seven years,” I said.

“Yep.”

“Mrs. Wentworth says that’s just perfect.”

I don’t know if he responded, or if I just fell asleep and missed his reply.

WELCOME TO YOUR NEW HOME, MR. PRESIDENT

GETTING TO KNOW A NEW FIRST FAMILY IS not without its challenges. When a new president takes over the West Wing, life changes for everyone in the country, and for everyone here on staff. What most people don’t realize, however, is that the biggest adjustment is made by the family moving in. Think about it: Despite the fact that they’ve had a couple of months to get used to the idea, no one realizes the pressures of living one’s life in a fishbowl until they’re actually in it.

This can be particularly difficult when kids are involved. The Campbells’ grown kids had been on their own for years, and we only saw them from time to time. But the Hydens brought two youngsters to the White House—kids who had to leave their friends and normal lives behind because their dad just happened to become one of the most powerful people in the world.

Our first duty in the kitchen has always been to provide the president and his wife with the best possible meals—all the time, and every time. As the White House chef, I had provided elaborate meals for world leaders and I had designed sophisticated and lavish events for the Campbells for as long as they were able to entertain.

But bring kids into the equation and things change. Quickly.

The Hydens are young, with young kids. They bring a new vibrancy, new energy to the house. And that means no small measure of complexity.

What I mean is that we now face the challenge of feeding individuals whose choices are not necessarily their own. If Mom insists on certain veggies at each meal, you can bet we’ll provide them. Our goal, however, will be to make these good-for-you offerings appealing enough to tempt even the pickiest eaters.

The moment the results of the last election were known, Bucky, Cyan, and I understood that we needed to brush up on our kid-friendly fare. We worked up a number of specialties in anticipation of life at the White House with Abigail and Joshua. I hope you like them. I hope the kids in your life do, too.

And just so you don’t think we forgot the fancyschmancy stuff, I’ve included recipes for the Hydens’ first state dinner. It’s a darned excellent menu, if I do say so myself. I particularly recommend the spinach, which is so good I prepare a simplified version of it at home all the time.

Enjoy!

Ollie

Buffalo wings can be made two ways. The original style is fried and unbreaded. The newer version is breaded and baked. Both are good, so I present both here for you to experiment with.

 

Serves 4

Traditionally, Buffalo wings are deep-fat fried, and not floured. If you prefer to fry your wings rather than bake them, rinse the chicken wings and pat dry with paper towels. Cut each wing at the joints into three sections. You can discard the wing tips, or save them for use in making chicken stock later, as you prefer. Personally, I put them in a resealable bag and collect them in the freezer until I have enough to make stock. But you won’t be using them here. Take the two top wing portions, and drop the cut up wings naked into vegetable oil in a deep fat fryer at 375 degrees F. Do this gently—spattering hot oil on yourself is painful. I find frying 8 to 10 pieces at a time keeps the oil temperature from dropping too low—you want to maintain it high so that the wings are crisp rather than rubbery. Once the chicken is browned and cooked through, about 8 to 10 minutes, remove with slotted spoon, drain on paper towels. Keep cooking until all wings are fried. Put the cooked chicken wings in a large bowl with the hot sauce and melted butter and stir to coat. Serve with celery sticks and Homemade Ranch Dressing on the side.

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.

Place the butter in a 13 x 9 cake pan, and put in oven to melt butter.

Rinse chicken wings and pat dry with paper towels. Cut each wing at the joints into three sections. You can discard the wing tips, or save them for use in making chicken stock later, as you prefer. Personally, I put them in a resealable bag and collect them in the freezer until I have enough to make stock. But you won’t be using them here.

Place the flour, salt, garlic powder, and cracked pepper in a sturdy gallon-sized plastic bag. Close the bag and shake to mix the contents. Drop 4 pieces of chicken at a time into the bag. Shake to coat with the flour mixture. Remove and set aside. Keep coating pieces until all are coated.

Remove pan with melted butter from the oven.

Roll floured chicken pieces in the butter. Spread evenly in the pan. Place in oven and bake for 25-30 minutes, until chicken is cooked through and juices run clear.

When chicken is cooked through, remove from oven. Pour chicken, melted butter and all, into a large bowl with the wing sauce; stir until chicken is well coated.

Serve with celery sticks and dressing on the side.

Whisk the ketchup, vinegar, and sugar together, then stir in Tabasco sauce one drop at a time, tasting after each drop, until the heat is exactly what you like.

Instead of making your own, you can also try Texas Pete’s, Frank’s RedHot, Defcon 2, Anchor Bar Original Buffalo Wing Sauce, or whatever suits your fancy. The average supermarket now carries several kinds to choose from. Whatever you use, you’ll need a cup and a half, or 12 fluid ounces of wing sauce.