Eggsecutive Orders (36 page)

CRAIG SANDERSON CIRCLED MY CHAIR FOR the third time.

This small office in the East Wing—the same one where I’d waited to be interrogated by Secret Service assistant deputy Jack Brewster last week—was cold. I kept my hands together between my knees for warmth, but shivered involuntarily. Craig smiled at my discomfort, and tried to share the enjoyment with the only other person in the room, Agent Snyabar.

Snyabar stared straight ahead. Totally impassive.

Craig started in on me again. “You told the medic on the scene that Agent Cooper had ingested tetrodotoxin.”

It wasn’t exactly a question, so I didn’t answer.

He rubbed his chin, feigning thoughtfulness as he continued to pace around me. “I have to wonder how you knew which toxin killed Carl Minkus.”

Still not a direct question. I bit the insides of my mouth.

“Not that we aren’t grateful, mind you. Agent Cooper is in intensive care, but is expected to make a full recovery.” He stopped and looked down at me. “I’m sure he’s very appreciative of your intervention. And your prescience. How did you know what he’d been poisoned with? Oh wait! I forgot just who we’re dealing with here—the White House chef who feeds the First Family and saves the world in her spare time.” A frown contorted his face as he glared down at me. “Like a special agent in disguise. Talk about delusions.”

Silence hung in the air between us. I stared at the walls.

Craig cleared his throat. “Ms. Paras, you made a special effort to inform me that you and Agent MacKenzie were no longer . . . in your words, ‘in a relationship.’ ”

I looked up at him.

His eyebrows arched upward. “Why?”

“I told you why. So that you could no longer hold him responsible for my actions.”

He made a sound like, “
Tsk
.”

“What?” I asked.

He exhaled loudly. “This is an unfortunate turn of events. However, the ends do not justify the means.”

“What are you talking about?”

Craig’s smile was just nasty as his frown. I wanted to slap it off his face. “While I’m sure Agent Cooper is indebted to you for saving his life, it is clear to me that you could not have known about the toxin unless Agent MacKenzie breached security by telling you.”

I jumped in my chair. “He didn’t tell me.”

“Oh, I suppose you guessed?”

“Yeah, kind of. I figured it out.”

Craig seemed to find that funny. He looked up at Snyabar again. The other agent kept his eyes forward. “And how— exactly—were you able to figure out something so incredibly obscure?”

I bit my lip. I couldn’t mention Kap. Late yesterday, I had been debriefed to the extent deemed necessary. Kap was, indeed, not the man he appeared to be. A covert CIA agent, he and Cooper had uncovered Carl Minkus’s deep secret. It was Minkus who had been selling intelligence to China for years. Cooper and Kap were on the verge of being able to prove his treason—but then Minkus died. In the White House.

“I hear things, and I can put two and two together.” Sitting up a little straighter, I added, “That’s a talent that comes in handy, don’t you think?”

“Two plus two,” he said. “In addition to being a culinary genius, the chef is a math whiz.” His eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. “You will be interested to know that I have taken steps to dismiss Agent MacKenzie from the PPD.”

I caught my breath. “You can’t do that.”

“I most certainly can, Ms. Paras.” He lips widened in a mean, straight line. “Unless you care to share any more of your mathematical skills with us . . .”

I waited. I had no idea where he was going.

“For instance, if you tell me specifically how you ‘deduced’ the name of the toxin . . . if,” he continued, raising his voice, “you were to cooperate—fully—I
might
be convinced to refrain from transferring Agent MacKenzie to the uniformed division.”

During yesterday’s debriefing, which had not included Craig, I learned that both Cooper and Kap had suspected Chinese operatives from the start. They were, however, stymied as to how the assassination had been carried out. Never did they suspect Ruth of slipping the toxin into her husband’s dish.

I wasn’t supposed to talk about it. I had given my word. But I thought about Tom—he had worked his entire career to become a member of the elite PPD. And now Craig, with no justification, planned to strip him of that. “I can’t talk about it,” I said. “But I can tell you that Tom did absolutely nothing wrong. He did not breach security.” I sighed. “He never does, even when it costs us both.”

“Not good enough. Who else could have possibly told you about the tetrodotoxin?”

Desperation ran through my mind. Then, I had it. “I did get the information from someone here at the White House.”

Craig’s eyebrows raised again. “Who?”

I took a deep breath. “Peter Everett Sargeant the Third.”

“The sensitivity director?” His face contorted. “How would he know anything?”

I shrugged. “He came in and started grilling me about puffer fish on Saturday. He asked, repeatedly, if I’d ever served it to the president. It wasn’t much of a leap after that. Like I said, two plus two . . .”

“Nice try, Ms. Paras, but—”

The door opened. Craig’s boss, Jack Brewster, walked in, followed by one of the Guzy brothers and Tom. “Excuse us, Ms. Paras.” He gestured me out. I stood, making eye contact with Tom, but his expression was unreadable. Just as I made it to the doorway, Brewster added, “You are released.”

I stood still as the door closed behind me.

It had been suggested—strongly—that I take some personal time. And now that I had agreed, I had no responsibilities in the kitchen until late next week. Bucky was being reinstated, and I knew that my team, especially with Henry there, would handle everything just fine. Although I longed to go down there to see my staff, I knew it would be best if I went home and spent time with Mom and Nana.

But something made me stay. Exhaustion? Fear for Tom? Whatever it was, I stopped at a chair in the hallway and sat down.

The last I’d heard yesterday, Ruth was in intensive care. No word on her condition today. But she had talked—some. From what the authorities discovered, she had known about her husband’s treasonous activities for a long time. He had even shared with her his fears about being found out. He knew Kap was onto him and he planned to take Kap out.

Aware that Carl’s treason would be brought to light at any moment, Ruth could no longer take the pressure. Worse than her husband being a traitor was the effect Carl’s arrest might have on their son’s political aspirations. Reasoning that Carl would be put to death for his actions anyway, she did her best to prevent him from ruining their son’s life by squelching the ugly truth before it came out. When Carl revealed his plan to kill Kap, Ruth saw an opportunity to save her son’s career. She used Carl’s own supply of toxin to kill him, in effect hoisting him by his own petard.

All to save Joel from the stigma of being the son of a traitor.

I thought about Nana’s observation at the wake. No happy family pictures on that digital slideshow. My guess was there were more issues in Ruth’s life—but those we might not ever know.

So deep was I in thought that I didn’t hear the door opening until Craig emerged. He shot me a look that would kill a less sturdy woman. But I stood.

He stormed down the hall.

I scrambled to get out of the way when Jack Brewster came out a moment later, talking genially with Tom. Brewster saw me and walked over. “I don’t condone your involvement in sensitive activities, Ms. Paras. Remember that.” He turned to Tom and shook his hand. “I’ll see you later.”

Guzy and Snyabar followed Brewster, but as they passed, Snyabar turned to me and winked.

“What happened?” I asked Tom.

His eyes held a look I hadn’t seen before. Excitement tinged with sadness. “I’ve been promoted.” He looked down the hall where Craig had gone. “I’ve got Craig’s job. He’s been assigned to a field office.”

It took me a moment to find my voice. “How?”

“Someone—a high-ranking someone whose name I have not been provided—came to your defense. Craig tried very hard to get you fired and to get me reassigned. Instead, it backfired on him.”

I thought of Craig’s gloating smile as he was grilling me. “Good.”

Again Tom looked down the hall. “He was just trying to do his job, Ollie. Protect the president.”

Suddenly I felt very small. Craig
had
just been doing his job. I shouldn’t be taking any glee in the fact that he’d been demoted. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

He turned toward me. “I am, too. This is not how I wanted to be promoted. If Craig hadn’t tried so hard to get rid of you . . .” He gave me a look that I didn’t understand. “You have friends in high places and you came out on top. Again.”

“Then why do I feel just the opposite?”

“That I can’t answer. But I feel it, too.”

Our eyes locked for a few seconds. He didn’t smile. Instead he mumbled that he needed to go, and left me standing in the hall.

I stared after him for a long moment, before heading home.

CHAPTER 26

“HOW DID IT GO?” MOM ASKED THE MOMENT I came through the door.

“Confusing.” And far too much to discuss just now.

“You still have a job?” Nana asked.

Mrs. Wentworth and Stanley were in my kitchen, looking up at me with anticipation. I said hello. “I still have a job,” I answered. “Although I don’t know how I managed it.”

Nana patted my hand as I pulled up a chair to join them. “You did good,” she said.

There were cookies in the middle of the table, and within seconds of my sitting down, my mom had poured me a cup of steaming coffee. I glanced at the clock. “It’s still morning,” I said. “I feel like I’ve been gone for days.”

“Why do you folks have all the fun?” Mrs. Wentworth asked. “Your grandma’s been here for a few days and she gets all the excitement. Just once I’d like to be involved in one of your adventures, Ollie.”

I shook my head. “Believe me, they’re not all they’re cracked up to be.”

“Did you see the morning paper?” Mom asked. She must have known I hadn’t, because she pulled it out and folded it to Liss’s column. “Read this.”

“I can’t believe this.”

Nana chuckled. “You shouldn’t. Most of it isn’t true. Except for the part where you should be thanked.”

My family and neighbors knew part of the truth, though not all of it. They didn’t know about Minkus’s treason. They knew Ruth killed her husband, but they didn’t know why. They didn’t know Kap was an undercover spy—although I believed my mother suspected as much. All they knew, and cared about, was that we were all safe, here, and in one piece. And I still had my job at the White House.

I turned my attention back to Liss’s article.

“Wow.” That was about the only thing I could say.

“Yeah,” Mom said, folding the paper neatly. “I’m keeping this.”