Home of the Braised (16 page)

VIRGIL HAD PULLED IN A FEW EXTRA HANDS
to help with the dishes while I’d been talking with Mrs. Hyden. Surprise, surprise. As much as I wanted to take the man to task, it would be wrong of me to do so in front of others. “Virgil,” I said, calling him into the hallway. “A moment of your time?”

He turned to me looking as free of guile as a man could, given that he’d single-handedly bungled things so badly. Giving the dishwashing helpers a few extra instructions, he made his way over. “That went perfectly, I must say,” he began.

He didn’t get any further.

“Ms. Paras?” Alec Baran stood in the opposite doorway, taking up most of it. Gosh, that man was tall. “I believe you were expecting me?”

I searched my memory. “Did we have a meeting scheduled? If so, I’m sorry that it slipped my mind.”

Baran eyed Virgil, who still watched me eagerly, as though he expected a pat on the shoulder and a happy “Attaboy!”

“This shouldn’t take very long,” Baran said. He gestured toward the corridor that surrounded the kitchen.

“I’ll be right back,” I told Virgil, and followed Baran across the hall to the China Room.

Always the China Room, I thought. Just once I’d like something truly happy to take place here. The China Room was where I usually faced chastisement, and usually from members of the Secret Service. Baran wasn’t an agent, even though he was now working with them. What the heck could the problem be now?

I stepped inside the gorgeous room that showcased White House china to find another man waiting for us.

Baran shut the door. “Ms. Paras, this is Agent Urlich. He’s to be your bodyguard.”

Another tall man, Urlich was at least five years older than I was. Sparse, pale hair, penetrating eyes, he gave the impression of being made of rippled muscle.

“Agent?” I repeated. “Secret Service?”

Baran explained. “Kalto also uses the appellation
agent
for our elite forces.”

“Understood.” I extended my hand, thinking about how that could get confusing. How would I keep the teams straight? “Nice to meet you, Agent Urlich.”

“Likewise,” he said.

“Agent Urlich has an update for you about your attack yesterday,” Baran said. “From the Secret Service. They’re coordinating with the local police.”

Urlich turned to me. “Before we begin, Ms. Paras—”

“Call me Ollie, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded. “Do you have any idea who might have pushed you, or why?”

I hesitated. Gav had warned me not to discuss the Ainsley Street murders with anyone. Not yet. I had to assume that meant my bodyguard as well. I shook my head and lied through my teeth. “I don’t.”

“That’s fine. We didn’t expect that you did. What’s most important right now is that you know you’re protected,” Urlich said. “The head of the PPD, Agent MacKenzie, has been in contact with the police department, as Alec mentioned. The detectives there went over footage from the security cameras, but the homeless woman who pushed you kept her face averted, as though she knew the cameras were there. The police told Agent MacKenzie that the woman must have ditched her disguise before she escaped. Two bulky shopping bags, assorted pieces of clothing, and a dark head scarf were found tucked behind one of the kiosks. The security cameras, however, didn’t pick up any of that.”

“I think it was a younger person in disguise,” I said. “She didn’t move like an elderly woman.”

Baran smiled, clearly eager to be on his way. “That’s an interesting observation, and it could prove helpful. I can see you two will get along well, and I’ll leave you now. Please let me know if there’s anything else you need, Ms. Paras.”

When he left, Urlich held out his hands. “A bit of housekeeping,” he said. “In order for this to work, you and I need to coordinate our schedules.”

“You can’t possibly be on call twenty-four hours a day,” I said, remembering other times I’d been under Secret Service scrutiny. “You’ll have someone to relieve you?”

“Only when necessary.”

“This has got to be an incredibly dull assignment for you.”

He smiled. “I wouldn’t say that. I’ve read your dossier.”

I closed my eyes for the briefest moment. I’d known for a while that a security dossier had been assembled to document my activities, but that fact never ceased to amaze me. “I don’t see the need for you to shadow me when Gav and I are together.”

“Agent MacKenzie agrees. My orders are to protect you when you’re out in public, alone. Special Agent Gavin is a well-respected member of the Secret Service. I am to escort you to and from the White House each day. While you’re here, or in your apartment, I will see to duties elsewhere, but I expect you to let me know when there is any deviation to your schedule. Are we understood on this point?”

“Yes.”

He went over a few more rules. He called them guidelines but we both knew better. “One question,” I asked when he finished. “How long do we expect this threat to last? That is, how long are you stuck babysitting me?”

What looked like pain flashed across his expression so briefly I almost missed it. “I wish I knew.”

• • •

“IT WAS THE WORST.” BACK IN THE KITCHEN, I
kept my voice low. Bucky and Cyan leaned in closer to hear me. “We’ve never had a tasting go so terribly wrong before.” I explained about Virgil’s adjustments to the menu and how everyone had been crowded together, bumping elbows as they sampled food, too close to have easy conversations, standing as they were, in a line along one side of the countertop.

Huddled close in the quiet space, I went into detail about it all, including Mrs. Hyden’s comments to me as she left. Both Bucky and Cyan kept eyeing the doorways.

Reading their minds, I said, “He’s gone home for the day. He left me a note, claiming exhaustion.”

Bucky worked his lips. “I don’t know. That guy is sneaky. I wouldn’t put it above him to be hiding around the corner there, listening in.”

“Did you let him know how much he screwed up?” Cyan asked.

“He thinks he’s golden,” I said. “Just as I was about to set him straight, I got called in to talk with my new bodyguard.”

“Because of the Metro incident yesterday?” Cyan asked.

“Yeah. Looks like I have a buddy to watch over me. Again.” I knew how much my close call bothered my colleagues. They’d been shocked and terrified at what had happened. At this point, I thought, the less I dwelled on it, the better. “By the time I got back to the kitchen, Virgil was gone.” Changing subjects, I asked, “How did your meeting with Sargeant go?”

“Great,” Bucky said. He looked at Cyan.

She nodded. “Great.”

I gave them both the evil eye. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” they said in unison.

“Neither of you is a major fan of Sargeant’s, yet you both went into this meeting without a complaint. You’re back with smiles on your faces. Clearly, something is wrong.”

“Not at all,” Bucky said. He let out a theatrical sigh. “If you must know, we aired our grievances about Virgil.”

“You did?” I turned to Cyan, who looked surprised by Bucky’s statement.

“Mr. Sargeant was very open to hearing our concerns, wasn’t he, Cyan?”

She’d recovered. “Very,” she said. “Very open.” Holding up a finger, she said, “I . . . uh . . . remembered something I forgot to do. See you later.”

We watched her go.

“Bucky,” I said quietly when we were alone. “Just as you suspected I was seeing someone—Gav—before I admitted to it, I know you’re not being completely truthful with me about this Sargeant meeting.”

He opened his mouth but I cut him off before he could say a word.

“All I want to say is that I trust you. You’ve both earned that. Whatever the two of you really discussed with Sargeant is obviously something you’re not ready to share with me. I want you to know that whenever you are, I’m ready to listen.”

He grinned at that, which I thought was an odd response. “Yes, boss.”

NEW CELL PHONE IN HAND, I WANDERED INTO
the Butler’s Pantry to try getting in touch with Gav. I’d called him immediately after my discussion with Urlich to let him know I had a bodyguard, but this time when I tried to reach him, his phone went directly to voice mail. I didn’t leave a message but did send a text, asking him to get in touch when he had the chance.

When Urlich had told me about the police finding the purportedly homeless woman’s disguise abandoned at the Metro station, something had clicked in the back of my brain. I needed to wait until my meeting with him was over to revisit that particular click. Now that I had, I couldn’t wait to get in touch with Gav.

Back, mere moments before I’d been pushed, I’d recalled the homeless man Gav and I had encountered down the street from Evan’s ministry. With all the excitement yesterday dodging the speeding train, and the relief at finally getting home, it had utterly flown from my brain. Before anything came up to cause me to forget again, I wanted to alert Gav.

I’d try again later. In the meantime, there was another matter I hoped to clear up.

Margaret sat outside Sargeant’s office, tapping at her keyboard. She glanced up as I walked in. Sargeant’s office door was open a crack. Enough for me to see that he was in. Still, I was nothing if not polite. “How are you today, Margaret?” I asked. “Do you think I could sneak in to talk with Mr. Sargeant for a few minutes?”

She gave me a bright “You’re so clueless” smile. “I will be happy to ask Mr. Sargeant if he has any time for you, but I have to warn you, he’s got a pretty busy schedule ahead of him.” She gave the words
pretty
and
busy
a special little lilt to let me know she was serious. “In fact, he’s on the telephone right now. Perhaps you’d like to have a seat and wait?” She gave a happy little shrug even though her eyes weren’t smiling. “I have no idea how long he’ll be.”

“Instead, how about I set up a time to talk with him? I take it you’re scheduling his appointments?”

“I am,” she said, again with a happiness that didn’t reach her eyes. She turned to her computer monitor and clicked the mouse several times. “Let me see. . . .” Two more clicks. Then another. “Yes,” she said triumphantly. “He has an opening here on August third.”

“August?” What was this, a dentist’s office? “No.”

“That’s the earliest I can schedule anything that isn’t an emergency.”

“That’s unacceptable.” I shook my head. “Please ask Mr. Sargeant to call me. He and I will work something out.”

Her smile was wide. “I’ll let him know you stopped by.”

At that moment his office door opened. “Ms. Paras,” he said. “I was just about to come see you. Would you have a moment?”

Margaret’s mouth dropped open. “But Mr. Sargeant,” she said in a plaintive little-girl voice, “I thought . . . I thought . . .”

“Ms. Paras rarely comes to see me unless there’s a problem,” he said with far less sarcasm than I would have expected. “If she’s here, there must be good reason.”

I felt the chill of Margaret’s glare against my back as I followed him into his office. He shut the door behind us, for which I was grateful. The less Margaret was able to eavesdrop, the better. She looked like the kind of woman who kept her ears perked for juicy updates. Being that type of person myself, I recognized the trait immediately. “You said you were coming down to see me?” I asked.

He didn’t go around his desk and take a seat the way I’d expected. Instead he faced me and spoke in low tones. Maybe he was afraid of Margaret’s nosiness, too. “I heard about what happened on the Metro last night.”

“Good news travels fast.”

His familiar, squirrel-like stare was back. Anger rather than prickliness this time. “Do not joke about such things, Olivia. It isn’t amusing, especially given your propensity for trouble.”

Momentarily tongue-tied, I could only manage to agree. “You’re right.”

“Yes, I am.” He sniffed. “Is there anything you need while the investigation is going on?” he asked. “I’m sure the police will have you come down to the station to identify the perpetrator. A woman, was it?” He clucked. “You may be required to be absent from your duties. . . .”

“Apparently the Secret Service is coordinating all that this time,” I said. “I have a bodyguard.” I waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the kitchen. “Again.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Apparently that matter settled, he felt comfortable taking his seat. I lowered myself into the chair opposite him. “Do be careful.”

That may have been one of the nicest things Sargeant had ever said to me. I was still reacting when he added, “It would be distressing to have to seek a replacement for your position. And heaven forbid we get saddled with Virgil in charge of the kitchen.”

I tamped down a smile. Now
that
was the Sargeant I knew and sometimes loathed. “I’ll do my best to stay alive. For your sake.”

His eyes snapped up to meet mine. “You do that.”

Changing subjects, I asked, “How’s Thora?”

I got the precise reaction I’d hoped for. Sargeant’s cheeks colored. He worked his lips several times before answering. “She’s well.”

Thora had assisted us with disguises when a group of us from the White House—Josh included—had set out on a field trip. The outgoing, statuesque woman had set her cap for our then-sensitivity director and didn’t believe in wasting time. She’d asked me to act as intermediary between them, and from all accounts they’d become nearly inseparable ever since.

“That can’t be why you came to see me,” he said, resuming his expressionless stare. “I certainly hope not, at least.”

“I came to see you about Virgil.”

He shook his head.

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” I said.

“I do.”

I leaned back, crossing my arms. “Then tell me.”

Arching a brow, he sucked in his cheeks. He was either annoyed by my challenge, or rising to meet it.

“Let’s see,” he began with a smug cock of his head, “you’re here to reiterate your reasons for naming Bucky as your second-in-command and you plan to attempt to do so by telling me how Virgil made a mockery of the First Lady’s tasting earlier today.” He held up a finger to keep me from interrupting. “Further, you’re going to tell me that you haven’t yet discussed this with Virgil.” He shook his head. “Not entirely certain why not . . . my guess is that you haven’t found the opportunity. Lastly, you would like me to speed up the process of giving Bucky the promotion you believe he so richly deserves. You’re planning to ask how my talk went with Mrs. Hyden and if there’s any chance of getting rid of Virgil.” He waited a beat. “Am I close?”

As he spoke, I uncrossed my arms and now found myself leaning forward, one elbow on the edge of his desk. He eyed it as though he wanted me to remove it, but I ignored him. “Don’t tell me you’ve installed a camera in the kitchen?”

Looking pleased with himself he said, “Mrs. Hyden came to see me.”

“And she told you all that?”

“Most of it,” he said. “The remainder I was able to deduce on my own.”

My arms came up in frustration. “She must agree then, that Virgil is more a hindrance than a help.”

“She does.”

“So . . .” I strung the word out. “What does that mean for the kitchen? Any chance of crowbarring the diva out of our way?”

“Unfortunately, no. And unless something changes, no chance of promoting Bucky soon, either.”

“Why not?”

“Because . . .” Lowering his head and his voice, he shot a look toward the door. “Oh, by the way, don’t mind Margaret. She’s a little aggressive, but I believe she’ll be an effective gatekeeper.”

“I’ll say. She nearly bit my head off when I asked to meet with you.”

He waved the air as though this was of no concern.

“Back to Virgil,” I said. “Why can’t we get rid of him? If Mrs. Hyden understands the chaos he brings, why in the world would she want to keep him?”

“As chief usher, I’m privy to information the rest of the staff never sees. I will thank you to keep what I’m about to tell you to yourself.”

A muscle in Sargeant’s cheek twitched.

“Tell me,” I said.

“Virgil is family.”

“No way.”

He twisted his lips. “He’s a cousin on the First Lady’s side. Distant but related.”

“The press has never gotten wind of this?”

“For all his spotlight seeking, Virgil has never once mentioned family. He clearly wants his career to be taken seriously, and nepotism isn’t the most effective way to accomplish that.” Sargeant shrugged. “Additionally, he is a quite distant cousin. A reporter would have to know what to look for in order to find this. Fortunately, there are some details the media doesn’t choose to follow.”

Thinking about Daniel Davies and
The People’s Journal
, I almost said, “And some details the media gets wrong,” but I let that slide. “What you’re telling me is that we’re stuck with him.”

Sargeant nodded. “I’ll continue to work toward promoting Bucky.” He puckered his mouth as though he’d bitten into a bad persimmon. “What a ridiculous nickname for a man of his age. I do feel it necessary to warn you that Mrs. Hyden doesn’t appear eager to move on promoting him very soon.”

I pushed myself up from the chair. “Thanks for your time, Peter.” As I made my way to the door, I pictured Margaret on the other side, still fuming from having her authority circumvented. I turned back to face Sargeant and thought about how, even after a very short time, Thora’s influence had softened him ever so slightly. “Is Margaret single?” I asked.

Sargeant blinked in surprise. “I wouldn’t know.” He tilted his head one way, then the other, as though examining the question from different angles. “Based on some of our conversations, however, I believe she is. Why?”

I grinned. “Can’t you picture the two of them together? Virgil and Margaret?”

“What a ludicrous notion, Ms. Paras,” he chided. “I cannot believe you’d even suggest such a thing. This is the White House, not Staff-Match-dot-com.”

I laughed. “I knew you had a sense of humor.”

“Sense of humor?” He glared. “Ms. Paras, you wound me.”

• • •

GAV MET ME OUTSIDE THE SOUTH EXIT AFTER
work. “Well, isn’t this a nice surprise,” I said. “When I didn’t hear from you all day, I thought you may have been pulled in for questioning again.”

“Not this time.”

He nodded a greeting to Urlich, who said, “I’d planned to drive Ms. Paras home.” The agent looked from me to Gav and back again. “Will you be accompanying her?”

“As a matter of fact, Ollie and I have dinner reservations.”

Urlich gave me a quizzical look. “You didn’t mention going out to dinner.”

My turn to turn a curious stare to Gav. “I didn’t know.”

“Am I released for the evening then?” Urlich asked. “My understanding is that once you’ve—”

Gav cut him off. “I will not be able to see Ms. Paras home, unfortunately,” he said. “Why don’t you meet us back here in about an hour and a half? If that isn’t a problem?”

Urlich scratched his head, clearly unsure of how to proceed.

“We’re going to a busy, public place, and then I will return Ms. Paras to the White House. I’d appreciate it if you could meet her here on our return. I’m very sorry to cause you inconvenience,” Gav said, “but this can’t be helped.”

“No problem.” Urlich shrugged. “Happens.” To me, he said, “Please let me know when you’re back. I’ll be here.”

We set out at a quick pace, considering Gav was still using the cane. “What’s going on?” I asked him as soon as we were alone.

“I’d like the chance to talk where we won’t be overheard.”

We exited at the North West Gate and headed east on Pennsylvania Avenue. “We couldn’t go back to my apartment? I’m sure we’d be safe talking there.”

“I have to be back here in less than two hours. Too much to cover, not enough time. And we can’t go over this inside the White House,” he said. “Too many trained observers.”

“That sounds ominous,” I said. “Did something else happen?”

He smiled down at me. “Really, Ollie? Does anything more need to happen? You were nearly killed, remember? I’d say that’s plenty.”

“Okay,” I said slowly, “then what’s up with this unexpected dinner out and your comment about not being overheard? You’re being very mysterious.”

He glanced down at me with the saddest smile on his face. “Did you ever consider that maybe it isn’t the secrets, the questions, or crime scenes I want to talk about? I just want to spend time with you.”

My breath caught, and he looked away.

Gav took my hand. “I hope that’s all right.”

I smiled up at him. “It’s perfect.”

At the next intersection, the Walk light was about to change and I slowed my pace in advance. Without breaking stride and without letting go of my hand, Gav did a quick look both ways before starting across the street at a brisk pace, making me quicken my steps to keep up with him.

It did my heart good to see him getting around better. For the first few days after he’d been injured, I worried that he wouldn’t be able to work in the field again. I knew that such concerns plagued him as well. Time was on our side, though. He still had several weeks of medical leave to recover.