Brad Meltzer - The First Councel

I give her a few seconds to change her mind. She doesn’t. Good, I finally say to myself. This’ll be her lesson. Just because she’s the First Daughter, she thinks she can-There it is again. That pain-in-the-ass title. That’s who she is. No, I decide. Screw that. Forget the title and focus on the person. The problem, however, is it’s impossible to separate the two. For better or worse, Nora Hartson is the President’s daughter. She’s also one of the most intriguing people I’ve met in a long time. And much as I hate to admit it, I actually like her.

“Dammit!” I shout, pounding the steering wheel. Where the hell is my spine?

I rip open the glove compartment, pull out a flashlight, and storm out of the car. Scrambling up the embankment, I find Nora wandering around in the dark. I shine the light in her face and the first thing I see is that grin. “You were worried about me, weren’t you?”

“If I abandoned you, your monkeys would kill me.”

She approaches me and pulls the flashlight from my hands. “The night’s young, baby.”

I glance down at my watch. “That’s what I’m worried about.”

Up the hill, I hear something move through the brush and quickly realize that Simon could’ve been meeting someone up there. Someone who’s still here. Watching us. “Do you think… ”

“Let’s just find the envelope,” Nora says, agreement in her voice.

Cautiously walking together, we zigzag up the embankment, which is overflowing with trees. I look up and see nothing but jagged darkness-the treetops hide everything from the sky to the parkway’s lamps. All I can do is tell myself that we’re alone. But I don’t believe it.

“Shine it over here,” I tell Nora, who’s waving it in every direction. As the flashlight rips through the night, I realize we’re going to have to be more systematic about this. “Start with the base of each tree, then work your way upward,” I suggest.

“What if he stuffed it high in a tree?”

“You think Simon’s the tree-climbing type?” She has to agree with that one. “And let’s try to do this fast,” I add. “Whoever he left it for-even if they’re not here now, they’re going to be here any minute.” Nora turns the flashlight toward the base of the nearest tree and we’re once again encased in underwater silence. As we move up the hill, my breathing gets heavier. I’m trying to look out for the envelope, but I can’t stop checking over my shoulder. And while I don’t believe in mental telepathy or other paranormal phenomena, I do believe in the human animal’s uncanny and unexplainable ability to know when it’s being watched. Racing to the top of the embankment, it’s a feeling I can’t shake. We’re not alone.

“What’s wrong with you?” Nora asks.

“I just want to get out of here. We can come back tomorrow with the proper-” Suddenly, I see it. There it is. My eyes go wide and Nora follows my gaze. Ten feet in front of us, at the base of a tree with a Z carved into it, is a single manila envelope.

“Son of a bitch,” she says, rushing forward. Her reaction is instantaneous. Pick it up and rip it open.

“No!” I shout. “Don’t touch… ” I’m too late. She’s got it open.

Nora shines the flashlight down into the envelope. “I don’t believe it,” she says.

“What? What’s in there?”

She turns it upside down and the contents fall to the ground. One. Two. Three. Four stacks of cash. Hundred dollar bills.

“Money?”

“Lots of it.”

I pick up a stack, remove the First of America billfold, and start counting. So does Nora. “How much?” I ask when she’s done.

“Ten thousand.”

“Me too,” I say. “Times two more stacks is forty thousand.” Noticing the crispness of the bills, I again flip through the stack. “All consecutively numbered.”

We nervously look at each other. We’re sharing the same thought.

“What should we do?” she finally asks. “Should we take it?”

I’m about to answer when I see something move in the large bush on my right. Nora shines the flashlight. No one’s there. Yet I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being watched.

I pull the envelope from Nora’s hands and stuff the four stacks of bills back inside.

“What’re you doing?” she asks.

“Throw me the flashlight.”

“Tell me why-”

“Now!” I shout. She gives in, tossing it to me. I shine the light on the envelope, looking to see if there’s any writing on it. It’s blank. There’s a throbbing pain kicking at the back of my neck. My forehead’s soaked. Feeling like I’m about to pass out, I quickly return the envelope to the base of the tree. The late summer heat isn’t the only thing that’s got me sweating.

“You okay?” Nora asks, reading my expression.

I don’t answer. Instead, I reach up and pull some leaves from the tree. Putting the flashlight aside, I fold the leaves and scrub them against the edges of the envelope.

“Michael, you can’t wipe off fingerprints. It doesn’t work like that.”

Ignoring her, I keep scrubbing.

She kneels next to me and puts a hand on my shoulder. Her touch is strong, and even in the midst of it all, I have to admit it feels good. “You’re wasting your time,” she adds.

Naturally, she’s right. I toss the envelope back toward the tree. Behind us, a twig snaps and we both turn around. I don’t see anyone, but I can feel a stranger’s eyes on me.

“Let’s get out of here,” I say.

“But the people who’re going to pick up the package… ” I take another glance around the darkness. “To be honest, Nora, I think they’re already here.”

Looking around, Nora knows something’s wrong. It’s too quiet. The hairs on my arm stand on edge. They could be hiding behind any tree. On our left, another twig snaps. I grab Nora by the hand and we start walking down the embankment. It doesn’t take ten steps for our walk to turn into a jog. Then a run. When I almost trip on a wayward rock, I ask Nora to turn on the flashlight.

“I thought you had it,” she says.

Simultaneously, we look over our shoulders. Behind us, at the top of the embankment, is the faint glow of the flashlight. Exactly where I left it.

“You start the car; I’ll get the light,” Nora says.

“No, I’ll get the-”

Once again, though, she’s too fast. Before I can stop her, she’s headed back up the embankment. I’m about to yell something, but I’m worried we’re not alone. Watching her run up the hill, I keep my eyes on her long, lithe arms. Within seconds, though, she fades into the darkness. She said I should get the car, but there’s no way I’m leaving her. Slowly, I start heading up the embankment, walking just fast enough to make sure she’s in sight. As she gets farther away, I pick up speed. My jog again quickly turns into a run. As long as I can see her, she’ll be okay.

Next thing I know, I feel a sharp blow against my forehead. I fall backwards and hit the ground with an uneven thud. Feeling the dampness of the grass seep into the seat of my pants, I look for my attacker. As I prop myself up on an elbow, I feel a slick wetness on my forehead. I’m bleeding. Then I look up and see what put me down: a thick branch from a nearby oak tree. I’m tempted to laugh at my slapstick injury, but I quickly remember why I wasn’t looking where I was going. Squinting toward the top of the embankment, I climb to my feet and search for Nora.

I don’t see anything. The faint glow of the flashlight is in the same spot, but there’s no one moving toward it. I look for shadows, search for silhouettes, and listen for the quiet crunching of broken sticks and long-dead leaves. No one’s there. She’s gone. I’ve lost the President’s daughter.