Kim Baldwin - The Gemini Deception

Shield jumped up off the bed. Unless Thomas wasn’t interested in protection because she didn’t fear a repeat. And that would only be because there was no actual danger. The only threat she felt was from Moore. Because he knows what happened or didn’t happen the day of the attack. Could it be that, for some reason, Thomas had helped stage a fake attack? If so, then for what gain?

The CIA was very capable of orchestrating anything, from an assassination attack, to suicide, to homicide. If any of her suspicions were true and the Agency had helped the president, then she was probably in danger as well. The CIA was one entity very few ever messed with.

She went into the bathroom and shut the door. At this point, she didn’t put it past them to tap her room and every other room in the White House. Shield turned on the shower and pulled out her secured cell phone. “Shield 29041971.”

“How can I help you?” the male voice replied.

“Put me through to Pierce.”

He came on the line a short time later, sounding very alert, though by her watch it was after two a.m. in Colorado. “Go ahead.”

“I have reasons to believe Lighthouse and her special advisor know something about the attack.”

“Explain.”

Shield told him about the president’s behavior and Moore’s attitude toward her.

“I see what you mean,” Pierce said, “but what would they have to gain?”

“That’s what I haven’t figured out.”

“I’ll have Reno look into their records, but you realize everything is highly classified.”

“I’m sure that’s the case where Lighthouse is concerned, but if we can find anything on…Watchdog, we might be able to determine what they’re involved in.”

“Watchdog it is,” Pierce said, agreeing to the communications name for Moore. “And he’s definitely easier to trace.”

“That’s right.”

“Roger that.” After a brief pause, Pierce said, “You do realize the Agency has toes we don’t necessarily want to step on.”

“The same way we don’t want them stepping on ours. What happens if it turns out they’re involved?”

“We follow the unwritten protocol.”

“We walk away.”

“Correct.”

“Let me know ASAP.”

“Keep me updated,” Pierce said. “And don’t act on anything unless I okay it.”

“I know how they play,” Shield replied, referring to the CIA. “I’m not about to get myself accidentally killed.”

Chapter Eleven

Aboard Air Force One on approach to Ottawa International Airport

Next evening, February 28

Ryden glanced out the window at the Canadian capital coming into view below. Once the White House stylist had put a few finishing touches on her hair and makeup, she’d asked for a few moments alone before they landed to prepare for tonight’s dinner. Everyone had readily departed the private office area of the plane except Moore. Kennedy wanted to stay as well, but Ratman had insisted he needed to discuss confidential matters with the president, so she waited just outside the door.

Mimicking Elizabeth Thomas presented one daunting challenge after another. Ryden wanted the moment alone to calm her nerves, and Moore was anything but helpful in that regard. Yet she was almost glad he’d stayed, because she was worried as hell about her first public appearance out of the country, even if it lasted only a few hours, and could benefit from any last-minute advice. He’d spent hours briefing her that morning, but she still wasn’t confident she could match Thomas’s off-the-cuff eloquence at a formal state event.

The Canadian prime minister had invited her and a few key congressional leaders to a lavish reception and dinner to break the ice for future dealings with the new U.S. leadership. Nothing of real import would be discussed in detail, but the venue was perfect for the unexpected to happen. There was no way to brief her on every matter that might come up.

Ratman kept his voice low. “Are you clear on who is sitting next to you and what topics to broach and which to avoid?”

“Crystal. But what happens with any questions I’m not equipped to answer?” she asked.

“Throw them a generality, insinuating you’re not willing to talk about the subject,” he replied. “They’re all very susceptible to that approach because they all practice it.”

Ryden made it through the cocktail reception without encountering any missteps that might indicate she wasn’t the real U.S. chief executive. It helped that she kept circulating among the crowd, keeping largely to inane pleasantries, with Ratman at her side to whisper in her ear if needed.

The state dinner that followed in the ballroom of Rideau Hall was more difficult because Moore was seated several tables away and she was trapped beside the prime minister, who wanted specifics, not small talk. The governor-general of Canada was on her other side, and he, too, didn’t seem content with generalities.

“I was under the impression this was to be a get-acquainted dinner,” she told the two men with a wry smile, “not an inquisition about my future plans.” She hoped her joking but reproachful demeanor would forestall further questioning, but neither took the hint. They merely laughed and continued pressing her on this or that issue until she was counting the minutes until the evening ended. Her answers had been short and aligned with Thomas’s agenda.

She was so nervous she had to stop to think at one point which fork to use, though she’d mastered the art of table etiquette with Tonya. And the intense scrutiny made her mistakenly glance at the wrong wrist when she started to check the time, though she thought she covered the blunder well.

Two hours into the event, she needed a break to breathe and calm her nerves, so she excused herself and headed toward the ladies’ room.

*

Shield wasn’t standing guard close enough to hear what was being said between the dignitaries at the state dinner, but she did have a clear view of everyone at the table. In addition to Thomas, a dozen key U.S. senators and members of Congress had made the trip, though the entire Canadian contingent—fifteen in all—seemed to be interested only in the new U.S. president. During the cocktail reception, each of the Canadian leaders had tried to extend their one-on-one time with Thomas, but Kenneth Moore, always at her side, kept her circulating through the crowd. Moore’s perpetual alertness was even more apparent than usual tonight, especially when one of the hosting dignitaries appeared to be pressing Thomas with questions.

The president appeared to be calm, smiling now and then, but a bit less relaxed when the reception gave way to the formal dinner. Just like she had done when Shield had first seen her in Greece, Thomas would occasionally play with her wedding ring while she mulled the answer to a question. Shield guessed the president had lost a bit of weight, since the ring seemed loose on her finger.

Most of the Canadian bodyguards and U.S. Secret Service present were assigned to specific posts. As the president’s primary, however, Shield was free to walk around as she saw fit, so now and then she would change position. She went from standing against the wall behind Thomas to another discreet location where she faced the president. Here, she had a very clear view of Thomas’s gestures and reactions and, after a few minutes’ observation, was now more concerned with those rather than any danger. Shield couldn’t discount the possibility of another assassination attempt, or that she might be wrong concerning the previous attack, but the more time she spent around Thomas and Moore, the more convinced she was that they were involved in something nefarious.

Though she kept her attention primarily on her subject, Shield also remained attuned to everyone else in the room, alert to anything unusual. She noticed that one of the waitresses, a very cute young blonde, kept glancing in her direction. At first, Shield thought it was the girl’s fascination with all the security, but when the woman smiled shyly at her, and her stare became more intense, as if trying to get her attention, Shield realized she was being flirted with. She ignored the girl but kept an eye on her in her peripheral vision, so she was surprised when Thomas pointedly looked from the waitress to her. Shield stared right back, unflinching, until the president looked away.