4 Rainy Days and Monday (14 page)

He reached for her hand. Took it and gently brought it to his lips. Kissed it tenderly.

“My apologies,” he said.

She smiled at him thinly. Looked over her shoulder to the mirrors. Her eyes closed slowly, languidly.

“You should have brought your concerns to the Pentagon, Mr. Royster.”

He nodded. No sense arguing. He was here now.

He appraised her. Middle age. Thin and athletic. Attractive, but not distractingly so. Her hair was too plain, her eyes too far apart, her chin too wide. Calvin knew she was a health nut, and had been since her husband had passed away at forty-three of a heart attack. She ran three miles every day, remained a vegetarian, even though hailing from Texas, and took vitamins and supplements constantly.

Calvin smirked. He understood the game she wanted to play. She was in charge, so she got to make the rules. Some men would find her calm confidence to be threatening. Calvin found it refreshing. He appreciated strong women.

“Perhaps you are correct. I will only take a moment of your time.”

“Of course. As you can see, I am lonely. I have been reading.”

“That is good. What?” He was going through the motions. He could care less about his boss’ literary proclivities. All of it was vanity, anyway.

“Kundera.
The Unbearable Lightness of Being
.”

He looked at his nails.

“Never heard of it.”

“Well. Great philosophical stuff. Prague during the 60s.”

He nodded.

“Before my time I am afraid.”

“Communist occupied, of course. One line struck me. I think it was ‘metaphors were not to be trifled with. A single metaphor could give birth to love.’ Or something like that. What do you think, Mr. Royster?”

He raised his eyebrows, pretending to be swayed.

“Quite witty, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I think we should be careful not to underestimate the power of a metaphor. You understand metaphor, don’t you, Mr. Royster?”

He found it difficult to look her in the eye.

“Yes, Madam President. I do. A comparison.”

“Of a sort, yes. Do you know the metaphor that we must watch most carefully?”

“Pray tell, Madam.”

Her smile was poison. Acid. It was corrosive and corrupt. He was intimidated. She was more than just the most powerful person in the world. The Brotherhood was close to grasping their desires. The pieces of the puzzle were fitting nicely and soon would be complete. President Walker was one of the final pieces.

The President leaned in close to him.

He could smell her perfume, the onions from her lunch, and the dustiness of her makeup. He could see her pores and he realized how old she was. How young he was. And powerless.

“Freedom.”

He nodded. He had heard a form of this sermon before.

“It is a fleeting thing, greatly to be desired.”

“It is love and life. A basic human right. A basic human need,” she continued.

“I have not been able to find the file,” he blurted, cutting off the mantra.

It was tedious. He had joined a political and philosophical revolution, not a religion. The longer he was associated with the Brotherhood, the more it seemed like a cult. He thought he had left that behind. Perhaps it was to be expected when one was involved with world-changing events. Organizations high on wealth, fame, and power.

The President closed her mouth. The smile disappeared. Her eyes were hard, the lines of her face deep. He could see just how tired she was then.

When was the last time she had slept? Where did she sleep?

She blinked twice, fast.

“What file, Mr. Royster? You will have to be more specific.” Her voice was cold. Devoid of emotion.

“The file on the organization responsible for the death of President Vine,” he said. He was cautious.

She glanced back at the windows and then to Calvin.

“It is safe to talk, Calvin. Don’t hold anything back.”

“Yes, Madam President. The ViVeri Consortium File.”

President Walker tilted her head. Closed her eyes and sighed.

“Why exactly were you searching for this file, Mr. Royster?”

He narrowed his eyes and shifted his feet.

“I thought it would be best to—“

“Those are not your decisions to make. Your responsibility is to defend this country, Mr. Royster. I will handle the punishment of our enemies. Do you understand?”

She made this statement with a smile on her face, disguising the venom she injected into it.

“Clearly.”

“Are we finished, then?”

“There is the matter of Senator Swane.”

“I am aware of the attack on the senator. He is in intensive care at a Duke University hospital in Raleigh. I get updates hourly. He will likely not survive.”

“Tough old bird.”

She nodded and walked over to her desk.

“I gave him the file.”

Calvin did a double take.

“You? Swane? Why? He is a huge security risk.”

She shrugged.

“Can you think of another way to get it into the hands of Monday without raising some suspicions?”

He stopped to consider this.

“Surely there were other ways.”

“Of course. We knew that the Senator was being tracked. He was a weak link. We did not need to expose ourselves. His betrayal was bound to garner him attention sooner or later.”

“He made his bed.”

She took a sip of water from a clear glass.

“Yes. As have we. The Senator could have chosen your path. To turn away totally. He wanted the benefits of both worlds. The political and financial perks of working with ViVeri and the clear conscious of working with the Brotherhood.”

“He was a patriot. Can we trust he did not expose us to Monday? Reveal our end game?”

She scoffed.

“I think it is fairly certain that he did.”

“Monday escaped.”

“Yes.”

He shook his head.

“I don’t understand it. Why do you want Monday to know so much? Eventually he will figure it out.”

“I am counting on it. Another metaphor for you Calvin.” She hesitated, her eyes hovering over him, evaluating him. He was uncomfortable. “Haven’t you figured me out yet?” President Walker asked. Her eyes sparkled with mirth. “I just love chaos.”

THE END

Thank you so much for reading Rainy Days and Mondays. My sincere hope is that you enjoyed your read.

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T
his series continues to delight me as I write it. I hope you are enjoying it as well. This story would not be possible if not for a handful of dedicated and inspiring folks. First, my wife and first editor who pushes me to get better all time. I do not believe there is a tougher editor out there. I am a better writer today because of her. Also, my fine beta readers and fans, Braden King, Becky Sisson, Raychel Duwe, Isaac Michael, and Eden Michael. You guys rock! I appreciate your input and advice. Your assistance and input is immensely powerful. Also to my great encouragers:  my Mom & Dad, my sisters Angie and Sheri, my brother Steven, and my friend and undercover agent, Kim Smith.

The original cover to Thank God it’s Monday is a compilation of a photo of Kimberly Jones by Danielle Culbert of Jude Photography, LLC and iStockphoto File #20163506, copyright 2012 by shayes17 (Steven Hayes). Danielle Culbert of Jude Photography, LLC, made both the original cover for Manic Monday and A Month of Mondays from photos of Ed Zoellner. I want to thank Ed and Kim for being Jake & Hallie Monday. I also want to thank Danielle, without whom I would have access to such great models. The typeface on the cover is American Captain, an Open Type font, copyright 2010 by the Fontry.

If there exists any errors, omissions, confusion, plot holes, or terrible writing, these folks above are not to blame. If, however, you find this story engaging, exciting, interesting, fun, or amazing, then please give them credit.

R
obert Michael writes stories that resonate with realism. His character-driven tales come to life. Robert is the author of nine titles, including:
Dark Mountain, Cry Me a River
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The Jake Monday Chronicles
. He writes while blasting music and drinking copious amounts of diet sodas. When he is not writing, Robert can be found playing the Xbox or watching sports, especially his beloved Steelers, Pirates, Penguins, or Mountaineers.

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