Buffalo West Wing (35 page)

“Yes, sir, Mr. President.” The two agents stepped back.

“Thank you,” I said and began to make my way back to the kitchen.

Josh broke away long enough to ask, “Where you going, Ollie?”

I winked at him. “I have a feeling my family is waiting inside.”

 

Bucky and Cyan jumped to their feet when I walked in. “Ollie,” Cyan cried out and rushed to hug me.

Bucky groused, “Why is it always you?” He swallowed, and I swore I saw him blink back his reaction. “Why can’t you stay safe once in a while?”

“Good to see you, too, Bucky.”

Cyan released me. “I’m so glad you’re okay. The news said that Matt took you and Josh to safety. Is he okay?”

Matt? Then it dawned on me. Agent Nourie. Cyan didn’t know.

I hesitated.

“Is he okay?” she asked again, this time more frantically.

“He’s alive and unhurt as far as I can tell,” I said. “But ...” To buy time, I dragged a chair over and sat, right in the middle of the kitchen. The two of them stared at me, waiting for all the details. “You guys know the drill,” I said. “I can’t tell you anything until I know what’s classified and what’s not. Half of it I don’t even understand myself yet.”

“Like what you’re not saying about Matt?” She waited, her innocent fear for him so palpable I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. But she would have to find out sooner or later.

“He’s ...” I hesitated again, not knowing how much I should say. “He’s ... a bad guy.”

Cyan’s hand went to her throat. “What?”

I stood and pulled her into a hug so I could whisper, “He’s been behind this all along. I’m sorry.” I’d had time to think on the drive back here. Time to piece things together. But Cyan hadn’t.

As I pulled away from her, her eyes grew red and shiny. “What are you saying, Ollie?”

“We’ll find out more soon, but it was Nourie behind everything. All along.”

“No ...” Cyan said, “not Matt.”

I knew we would find out more when the time was right, but until then we had to be patient. I hoped Cyan understood that, too.

I sat back in my chair as weariness engulfed me. I wanted to change the subject for Cyan’s sake, and to help me have something concrete to talk about. “The state dinner was canceled, I assume?”

“What a fiasco,” Bucky said. “That agent you got to be friends with—Gavin—he was here for a while. Thank God he showed up. The guests started arriving right on time, and nobody wanted to tell them the real reason why dinner was canceled. So, they just made up an excuse about a ‘situation.’ Everybody understood—” He and Cyan exchanged a meaningful look. “That is, everybody but the guests of honor. When Paul explained that an emergency had arisen and the dinner was canceled—holy! You should have seen the ruckus the president of Armustan and his people caused. Your friend Gav and his team escorted them out.”

“Uh ...” Cyan interrupted. “I heard a bunch of them were detained.”

“Arrested?” I asked.

Bucky shrugged. “I don’t think you can arrest dignitaries, but I got the impression they took them to a safe house.”

“Safe house.” I shuddered involuntarily.

Cyan watched me warily. “I don’t think Armustan’s diplomats are going to be welcome here anytime soon.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so either.”

Cyan’s and Bucky’s eyes widened in the same unspoken question. I held up my hand. “I’ll tell you what I can, when I can.”

“Why,” Bucky asked, “why is it always you?”

 

I was asking myself that same question an hour later as I prepared to leave. I’d marshaled whatever energy I could muster after Cyan made me eat something for strength. “We have lots of wagyu beef and potatoes left over,” she said. “Protein and carbs are good for you right now.” I refused coffee. It would be hard enough to sleep tonight. Finally, bolstered by the calories Cyan had forced me to consume, I felt ready to embark on my trip home. The Secret Service had informed me that they would escort me, but the prospect of facing the empty apartment was, at the moment, too much to bear.

“You’re taking the day off tomorrow, aren’t you?” Cyan asked.

“I’d much rather be here. I always feel better when I’m doing something.” I sighed. “But yeah, I’ll take the day.”

“I’ll stop by after work and see you,” she said. “How does that sound?”

Cyan was trying so hard to cheer me up when I knew her heart had to be breaking because of Nourie’s deception. I wondered what Cyan might have inadvertently shared with him—believing him to be trustworthy—that helped his group with their plan. And how did someone like Nourie ever climb so high in the Secret Service ranks?

These were questions to be pondered. But not tonight. My head hurt.

 

I recognized the agent waiting for me in the hallway—Brenda Notewell. “Ms. Paras,” she said.

“Call me Ollie.”

“Ollie.” She gestured toward the back of the residence. “We’re going to get you home safely.”

I nodded.

We walked across the hall to the Diplomatic Reception Room. Outside, at the waiting limo, she asked if there was anywhere I needed to stop along the way—or anything I would like to pick up. I thanked her and said I was fine.

She handed me her card. “Once you’re home, if you change your mind and need anything, just give me a call. We will be happy to get you whatever you need.”

“What I need most right now is a hot shower.”

“I’ll bet,” she said.

If I were being perfectly honest, I needed much more than that. I didn’t want to be alone tonight. I climbed into the backseat wondering if maybe Mrs. Wentworth wouldn’t mind a visit. Not that I could tell her anything. Brenda shut the door to the back and started toward the front passenger seat. I rolled down the window. “Would you mind?” I asked pointing to the seat across from me. “I could use some company right now.”

She smiled again and joined me in the spacious backseat. We sat facing one another. “How much do you know of what happened?” I asked her when we were on the road.

“Not a lot,” she said. “But I’ve been apprised of some of the basics.”

“How much does the media know?”

“They know there was a scuffle at the school ... of course. What the media doesn’t know is that we’ve determined that the disturbance was set up by Agent Nou—er—a renegade agent. He arranged to have shots fired so that it would look perfectly reasonable for him to take charge of the president’s son and get him to safety. In fact, he had everyone convinced of that for a little while. That’s why there was a delay in finding you.”

“
How
did you find me?”

“That, I don’t know,” she said. “But one of our other agents started to suspect Nourie.”

“Who?”

“Bost,” she said. “He was shot in the skirmish, but he’s going to be okay.”

“That’s good.” I blew out a breath of relief. I’d been suspicious of Bost from the start. Maybe I should have paid attention to what he’d been trying to tell me. Maybe Nourie could have been stopped sooner.

Returning to my question, she said, “The media knows about the scuffle. They know that you and Josh were taken away, but everyone believes you were sequestered in safety all this time. No one knows what really happened.”

“So no one knows about Nourie?”

“No,” she said, “and this is a huge hit for our department. The Secret Service will suffer for a long time if word gets out. Nobody suspected Nourie. Ever. Now we have to go back and find out what we missed. And how we missed it. The last thing we need right now is for the media to get hold of this.”

I nodded. “Lots of meetings all night tonight, I’ll bet.”

She nodded. “Special Agent in Charge Gavin is organizing a major investigation into the Secret Service and the PPD. We’ve already been warned that heads will roll. Nobody’s getting out of this unscathed.”

At the mention of Gav’s name, my heart skipped a beat. He was okay. I was okay. I should be happy enough with that tonight. But I felt as though I needed to talk with him. Right now. Brenda didn’t seem to notice my attention waver. I worried for Gav. I knew it would be a very long time before I saw him again. I knew that deep down, and it hurt.

She finished by telling me about the press conference planned for tomorrow morning to discuss the “precautions” taken on Josh’s behalf and for the White House to divulge the “real” reason for the canceled state dinner.

“Real reason?” I asked.

“That’s part of what’s being decided in all these meetings tonight.”

We traveled the rest of the way in silence.

When we arrived at my building, I waved off Brenda’s offer to walk me up to my apartment. “I don’t know,” I said. “I somehow feel stronger doing at least this much on my own.”

“I understand.”

I was sure she did.

James waved to me as I walked past him toward the elevators. “Little excitement today, huh?” he asked. “You okay?”

“Just fine. No big deal.”

“The news is saying now that it was all a big misunderstanding. Some agent’s gun accidentally went off and it scared the bejezus out of the agent watching you and the president’s son.” He looked at me shrewdly. “That how it happened, Ollie?”

“Close enough,” I said. “Good night, James.”

The elevator dinged when it reached my floor, and I was relieved to see Mrs. Wentworth’s door completely shut. As much as I had wanted company earlier, I realized now that what I needed most was sleep. Too bad I still felt so alone.

CHAPTER 30

I PEELED OFF MY CLOTHES AND LEFT THEM in a pile on the floor, stepping into the hot shower I’d promised myself. When my skin was bright pink and the room fully steamed, I pulled on a pair of flannel pajamas and fuzzy socks, climbed into bed, and closed my eyes. Lying there for twenty seconds, I started to feel as though my skin was itching from the inside. I sat up. Then tried again.

This wasn’t going to work.

Two minutes later, I was back on my feet, way too charged up to relax.

Wandering into my living room, I sat on the sofa and picked up the paperback I’d started last week. Three paragraphs in, I realized I had no idea what was going on, and I couldn’t even remember what had happened in the prior fourteen chapters. No idea whatsoever.

I turned on the TV and switched to a news channel. Since I couldn’t expect updates—because the real news hadn’t been released—I hoped that the anchors’ soft drones would put me to sleep.

An hour later, I was still buzzing with energy. I considered pouring myself a glass of wine. Maybe I’d even have two. That would knock me out in a hurry.

Resigned, I rolled off the couch and headed to the kitchen. With all this lack of sleep it was a good thing I had tomorrow off after all.

I had a bottle of cabernet sauvignon I’d been saving for a special occasion. “What better to celebrate than being alive?” I asked aloud as I grabbed my corkscrew.

From the other room, I heard my phone register a text. I dropped the corkscrew and ran to find out who would be messaging me at this hour of the night, but I already had a feeling I knew.

Flipping open my phone, I read Gav’s text:
You awake?

I typed back:
Wide.

Figured,
he wrote.
Either that or you’re sleeping with all your lights on.

There was a soft knock at my door three seconds later. I ran to open it and said, “How?” but he didn’t answer. He pulled me into his arms and held me so close I could hear his heart beating.

“Ollie,” he said, “I thought I’d lost you.”

“I was worried about
you,
” I said.

I felt a chuckle rumble up in his chest. “You would,” he said.

We stood there in my doorway for a long moment, both of us silent. He felt so good, so strong. So alive. “I missed you,” I said at last. “Where were you?”

“Let’s talk.”

As I closed the door behind him, I thought I heard Mrs. Wentworth’s door click shut. What a character she was.

“I was about to pour myself a glass of wine,” I said. “Want some?”

He shook his head. “I’m back on duty at six.”

“That’s only four hours from now,” I said. “When are you going to sleep?”

He took my hand and led me to the sofa. “We need to talk,” he said again. “Sit next to me.”

I did.

“I know you’re off tomorrow.” I didn’t even bother to ask how he knew that. “But we will need to debrief you, to see if there’s anything we’re missing. Your captors may have spoken more freely in front of you ...”

“Because they thought I’d be dead tonight,” I finished.

Gav’s eyes clouded. “Yeah.”

We talked for a long time. Gav wanted to know everything that had happened, and he encouraged me to remember sounds and smells. “This will help you tomorrow when you’re being questioned.”