Kim Baldwin - The Gemini Deception

Chapter Thirteen

The White House

That evening

As Ryden ate her dinner in the private second-floor dining room across from her bedroom, she wondered why Kennedy—who’d been with her all day—had now been replaced by a Secret Service agent named Jason. She sat alone at the long table, two waiters catering to her, while he read a magazine from a chair by the door.

Tonight’s fare included Caesar salad, beef bourguignonne, potatoes Florentine, and fresh asparagus with a balsamic reduction. She always ate until she was stuffed and included dessert with lunch and dinner, because her fast metabolism, combined with the stress she was under, burned up the calories with alarming speed. She’d already lost five pounds since she’d been here.

Ryden had never eaten a bigger variety of delicious meals. Betty always asked her in generic terms if she would prefer this or that—chicken or fish, potatoes or rice—but when the waiter served at dinnertime and announced the menu it was like listening to a foreign language. She’d never been to expensive restaurants, and although her crash course in French and culinary cuisine helped decipher some of the dishes, she still had no idea what to expect.

The same applied to the different wines they would present her with and expect her to choose from. As far as Ryden was concerned, they all tasted good, and since she really couldn’t tell the difference, she usually left it up to the White House sommelier.

She liked to take her meals here. The view of the grounds was compelling, and she could shed Thomas’s high heels and designer suits for more comfortable slippers and loungewear without fear of being seen by anyone but her servers and guards. But something was missing tonight. She’d gotten used to Kennedy’s presence during dinner. The bodyguard would either stand or sit by the window and occasionally look outside. Although they rarely said anything, Ryden found comfort in her calm presence and silence. It wasn’t until Kennedy became her shadow that she realized how tired she had grown of eating alone in her small apartment or in diners.

As a child, she would have dinner with whatever foster family she was placed with, which was her least favorite time of the day. Either her foster parents would find it the most appropriate time to argue, or the other foster kids would massacre each other over who got the larger serving. The only other person she had ever shared a meal with was Magda, during work in the back. She had found Magda’s constant need to gossip about their customers tiring and only seldom amusing.

Even though Ratman had probably hired Kennedy, the bodyguard was the only one of the two of them who, despite the truth, still treated Ryden with respect. For some unknown reason, she felt safe when Kennedy was around, though vulnerable.

Kennedy had stayed at her post all day, but Ryden had seen little of her because she’d spent most of her time in closed-door meetings. She was sure Kennedy’s absence now, when they would have been alone, had to do with the horrible way she’d treated her at the dinner event last night. Had Kennedy been allowed to quit? And if so, wasn’t someone obliged to inform her of that fact? She looked at the male agent and cleared her throat.

“Yes, Madam President?” He immediately set aside his magazine and stood.

“What happened to Kennedy?” she asked nonchalantly.

“She’ll resume her duties later tonight, Madam President.”

“I see.” Ryden felt relieved. “So, she’s taking a break from me?”

Jason smiled. “Not from you, Madam President.”

“Whom else?” Ryden smiled back. Why couldn’t she let it go?

“I think she needed some private time.”

“Oh? Is she all right?”

“Nothing serious, I suppose, since she’s still in the House.”

Ryden scooped up the last of her dessert—tiramisu this evening—and chewed slowly. Was Kennedy avoiding her until she was off to bed so she didn’t have to face her? And if so, was she even allowed to? Sure, Ryden had snapped at her, but that was no excuse to forgo her duties and…ignore her. “Do you know where she is?”

The guard had remained standing. “I’m sorry, I don’t, Madam President. I can find out in just a moment.”

Ryden finished her wine and got up. “Don’t bother. I’m going to retire early tonight.”

Jason followed her toward the bedroom. She had just reached the door when she saw Kennedy walk out of the Yellow Oval Room farther down the corridor still wearing her trademark dark pantsuit and starched white shirt.

*

Shield had requested a time out for personal reasons without further explanation. She’d used the time to call the EOO for any news and to plant a listening device in Thomas’s bedroom, using the adjoining door from her room while the president was eating dinner across the hall. She hadn’t mentioned the eavesdropping to Pierce, but no risk was involved. Since she was the president’s primary and the one responsible for the routine, weekly sweep of the room for bugs, the Secret Service wouldn’t find the device by chance. She might, however, be able to overhear a private conversation between Thomas and Moore.

She’d eaten dinner then and was headed to her bedroom to get her cell for another call to Pierce, when she spotted the president leaving the private dining room.

“Does this mean you’re on duty again?” Thomas asked her.

Shield was used to the cold, formal attitude of her subjects and even found it interesting when it came to attractive women, but Thomas had pushed all the wrong buttons when she’d accused her of playing on the job. Shield knew she had to be a professional and swallow her pride when it came to difficult and downright rude individuals, but nothing vexed her more than unfairness. That, combined with the fact that the EOO hadn’t been able to offer any news yet in response to her inquiry, had put her in a less than pleasant mood. “Yes, it does, Madam President.”

“Good, because I would like a word with you.”

“Of course, Madam President.” Shield looked at the other agent and nodded. Jason headed toward the stairway while she started down the hall toward the president.

Thomas met her halfway and gestured toward the room Shield had just come out of. “I don’t see why we can’t talk in there. Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” Shield let the president go first into the Yellow Oval Room and shut the door behind them.

Thomas scanned the room and her gaze fell on Shield’s meal tray. “I didn’t know you were allowed to take your dinner in here.”

“The perks of not being your average Secret Service.”

Thomas approached the small table by the open balcony doors where Shield had sat and looked down at the bottle of wine. “They let you drink on duty?”

“You may have noticed I haven’t opened the bottle.”

“Then why is it here?”

“Because I felt the need to look at it since I can’t be at home,” Shield explained.

“I don’t understand. You want to look at the bottle?”

“It reminds me of home and the job I love. I make my own wine.”

“As in moonshine?”

“As in, I have my own company. A vineyard back home in Tuscany. It’s quite a successful label.”

Thomas picked up the bottle. “Il Grigio Angelo,” she read. “They serve this here, although I haven’t tried it yet.” She sounded surprised.

“Here. In Europe. In every good restaurant.”

“So, if you live in Tuscany, how did you end up in Washington?” Was Thomas going to get to the point of her request to see her, or were they going to talk about Shield’s bio?

“The organization I work for—”

“The EOO.”

“Yes, has us stationed all over the world. I usually baby… guard ,” Shield corrected herself, “European political dignitaries, and occasionally American ones. It depends on where I’m needed.”