Julie Hyzy - Eggsecutive Orders

“I’m going with him, Ollie.” Mom said. “I already told him he can pick me up at two.”

A thousand thoughts flew through my brain as I picked up the phone without checking Caller ID. “Hello?”

“Ollie, it’s Paul.”

Like a rerun of Monday morning, our chief usher was calling me at home-what could have happened now?

“Yes?” I said dumbly.

“I take it you’ve seen the Liss article?”

“Just a minute ago.”

Paul sounded angry and resigned at the same time. “I don’t know who leaked the story to him. It’s a pretty sad day when our staff learns that they’re back to work through the newspaper rather than through official channels.”

My mom’s plight momentarily forgotten, I caught hold of what he was saying. “We’re back? We can come back?”

“Right away. The sooner the better.”

Relief washed over me, rinsing away the crustiness of fear. “Thank you so much, Paul.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said. “The president and First Lady moved mountains to get the medical examiner to rush his decision. It’s because they want to get to the bottom of this mess, of course.”

I sensed he wasn’t finished talking.

“But it’s not just that. There’s another tidbit Liss got right in the story,” he went on. “The first couple is plenty tired of Secret Service food. How soon can you get here?”

There wasn’t a lot of choice, really. I couldn’t stay home-not when I was needed back at the White House. As much as I didn’t want my mom heading out for parts unknown with the mysterious Kap, there was little I could do to stop her. In the end, I left Mom and Nana with a spare set of keys and strict instructions to call me if anything came up or if they had any trouble whatsoever.

“What sort of trouble do you expect, Ollie?” Mom asked with a little too much glee.

“None,” I said. “Of course. But, you know, just in case.”

Nana looked up at me, a twinkle in her deep-set eyes. “So, no wild parties while you’re gone?”

A half hour later found me ready to board the Metro for my first trip back to the White House since Minkus’s death. My head was everywhere but where it should have been-aware of my surroundings.

I entered the mostly empty train car and didn’t pay any attention to the man who followed me in until he sat in the seat next to me. He wore an old-fashioned brown felt hat pulled low, and his overcoat was turned up at the collar. Except for his leather-gloved hand atop a cane, there was nothing distinctive about him. He smelled of too much aftershave.

In one instant, I berated myself for letting my guard down, but I’d been in situations more touchy than this one, so I didn’t hesitate. “Excuse me,” I said, and got up to change seats.

“Olivia,” he said.

About to take an aisle seat kitty-corner behind him, I turned. “What?”

“Come back. Sit down. We have to talk.”

He lifted the brim of his hat just enough.

I was about to exclaim, “Liss?” but he placed a finger across his lips. “Shh,” he said, then tapped the seat next to him. “Sit down. Quickly. We don’t have much time.”

“What are you, some sort of conspiracy theorist?” I asked, not caring at all that I spoke loudly enough to be heard by other passengers. “Oh wait.” I snapped my fingers. “That’s exactly what you are!”

I turned my back and headed to an aisle seat even farther away.

He turned and glared at me. Though I could only see his eyes and nose out of the top of his collar, I could feel the heat blaze. I wished I had a paperback or something to read. Instead I turned my head to the window. Unfortunately, we were underground and there really wasn’t much of a view, so I kept eye contact with my reflection, drawing from it a little sense of empowerment.

Liss scuffled to his feet and made his way over to the seat in front of me. There were a handful of other passengers in the car and they started to take notice. Not that I cared.

“I was right about you getting back into the White House today, wasn’t I?” he asked.

I didn’t bother to answer. I stared at the window.

“I have sources,” he said.

“Let me guess. Is his name Deep Throat?”

I felt his gaze rake me up and down. “Isn’t that a little before your time?”

“Facts,” I said, biting the word out, “and history are important to me. And should be to all of us.”

I was feeling pretty good about holding my own against this despicable man. He had already hurt me-and my mother-with his vicious column. I had nothing to lose here. I almost wished he would keep at it, so I could knock him to his knees.

He lowered his voice and leaned closer. “What if I told you I have facts that would rock the country’s very core?”

“I’d say you wouldn’t know a fact if it bit you on the-” Stopping myself in the nick of time, I cleared my throat. “I’d say you were bluffing.”

He raised a white eyebrow. “So you are a temperamental chef, after all.”

Placing my hand on the back of his chair to boost myself, I stood to change seats, yet again.

“Please wait,” he said, placing his hand over mine. “I apologize.”

I yanked my hand out from under his. “You will never be able to apologize enough.”

When I sat four seats forward, across from an elderly woman who gave me a worried glance before staring at the floor, I expected him to follow. He didn’t.

He stayed in his seat for the entire ride to MacPherson Square. As the train pulled into the station, I stood to disembark.

Just as the train slowed, Liss stood up. He made his way over. Seconds before the doors were to open, he leaned close to my ear.

“There was trouble in the security office,” he whispered. “It has to do with China. Minkus was about to investigate Phil Cooper, his second-in-”

I turned to him, and spoke in a clear voice. “I know exactly who Phil Cooper is. After everything you’ve written, so does the entire population of Washington, D.C. ”

Shock registered in his eyes and he looked from side to side, like a spy from a 1940s movie. “Not so loud-”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” I said. “And why are you bothering me with this anyway? I don’t have time to listen to your crazy conspiracies. If you believe you have some burning scoop, why not publish it in your column? Why accost me on my way to work?”

By now the entire train was paying attention.

He whispered, “Because I think you can get me information on Phil Cooper and his anti-American activities.” His teeth were clenched, his body was rigid, but his eyes didn’t leave mine. “From your Secret Service boyfriend.”

How did he know about Tom? Speechless, my mouth moved, but nothing came out.

He took the opportunity to lean in again. “You want me to go public with your romantic dalliances? I’m sure that headline will sit very well with MacKenzie’s boss.”

The car’s doors opened. “Climb into that little hole of yours and dream up more of your nasty lies,” I said. “It’s what you’re good at.”

I stepped out and didn’t look back.

MY ANGER AT LISS DIDN’T DISSOLVE, BUT MY mood lightened the moment I stepped into the White House kitchen. It was clean. One of our crews had evidently put everything back in its place after the investigators finished. And the smell was exactly right. Dash of yeast, a sprinkle of coffee, and hint of cleaning solution. Although the scents were faint-we’d been banished for four days-they were strong enough to make my heart race with possibility. I closed my eyes for just a moment to breathe it in. “Oh,” I said quietly. “It’s good to be home.”

“It is, isn’t it?”