Kim Baldwin - The Gemini Deception

“Are you as good as they say?” the president asked.

“I must be, or I wouldn’t be here.”

“How does the wine fit into your life?”

“It’s what I do when I’m not on a job.”

Thomas sat down at the table, on the armchair opposite the one Shield had been in. “How did you decide to start a vineyard?” She sounded sincerely interested.

Shield sat down, too. “I started out by helping the owner—a friend. Eventually, I inherited the vineyard, improved the wine, and marketed it worldwide.”

“I doubt you need this job, then.”

“I don’t. I do it because part of me wants to—even though I hate being taken away from my home—and part of me has to.”

“Has to?”

“It’s a long story, but let’s just say I’m contracted to work for my employer indefinitely. In other words, until I’m no longer fit for my work.”

“It must be difficult to leave your loved ones.”

“Not really. I don’t have any.”

“I don’t just mean a girlfriend,” Thomas said.

“Why would you assume I had a girlfriend?”

“I…I simply meant I saw the way the waitress was looking at you.”

Shield was glad for the opening. “About that. I never play on the job, and I have a strong disliking for being accused of something I didn’t do.”

“My apologies,” Thomas said. “I never meant to offend you. I was tired and looking for someone to blame. I should never have reacted the way I did. It was uncalled for and unprofessional.”

“I won’t argue that.”

“It’s why I wanted to see you. I wanted to say I was sorry.” The president was looking at her with an expression of sincere regret, a response Shield found uncharacteristic in light of her previous bodyguard’s experience, but welcome nonetheless. Elizabeth Thomas continued to confound and surprise her.

“I appreciate that.”

“I’m glad.” Thomas smiled. “But what I meant earlier is that I assumed you prefer the same sex.”

“How presumptuous. Is it because of my job?”

“I don’t have to be a homosexual to have a gaydar. Am I wrong?”

Shield snickered at Thomas’s use of the word gaydar and the president smiled. “No, you’re not wrong. Is that going to be a problem?”

“Not at all. What you do in your spare time is none of my business.”

“I’m glad,” Shield repeated, and smiled, too.

“How about your family?” the president asked next. “Don’t you miss them?”

“I don’t have one. I was adopted by the organization when I was six.” Shield rarely volunteered such information, but with Thomas, it didn’t matter. The president certainly had a briefing file somewhere about the EOO, if she cared to read it.

Thomas looked at her intently, then averted her gaze. “That must have been rough.”

“I guess…at times, anyway. I’ve never spent too much time dwelling on what could or should have been.”

“You’ve never wondered what it would have been like to have a family?”

“Sure, but I can’t say I’ve ever missed it,” Shield replied. “It’s hard to long for something you’ve never experienced.”

Thomas stared out the window toward the Washington Monument in the distance for a long while, seemingly lost in thought. In Shield’s experience, people often felt sorry for you when you told them you were adopted, but Thomas instead looked hurt. “So, I assume you’ve never felt the need to look for them,” the president finally said.

“Never. All I know is I was born and adopted in Melbourne, Australia.”

The president raised an eyebrow. “An Aussie?”

“In blood, yes, but an Italian at heart.”

“How was it growing up in an organization?”

“It’s funny how that varies from kid to kid. Some love it, make friends and enjoy the constant playing and schooling and find it a home, and others…don’t.”

“And how about you?”

“I was one of those who didn’t. I’ve never liked noise, and boy, there was a lot of that.”

“Yes.” Thomas sounded wistful. “I mean, kids seem to love screaming. My sister’s kids do, anyway.”

“Not me, and I was never very social. Spent a lot time on my own and out of other people’s way. Kids welcomed me when I sought them out, but they never went out of their way to track me down. I think they found me a bit odd. Most adopted kids crave acceptance. I just looked forward to getting out and on with my life. I wanted to find my place in the world, not a family.”

“Did you?”

“I did,” Shield replied. “When I found Italy.”

Thomas sighed. “It must be wonderful to know where you belong.”

“You sound like you don’t, when you appear to have everything.”

“Appear being the key word.”

“It’s definitely not easy being you.”

Thomas shook her head almost imperceptibly and let out a small laugh devoid of humor. “You have no idea.”

“I don’t even want to imagine having to live your life.”

“This life, the one before. Trust me, you don’t want to imagine either.”

Rich political families could definitely come with drawbacks. Cold, ambitious parents more interested in grooming successors than in loving their child. But no one could have forced Thomas to become president. You needed to want and fight for that position wholeheartedly in order to obtain it, especially if you were the first female to hold the highest office in the world. But she couldn’t argue that it came with a lot of sacrifices and potential dirty work. “I guess no one is ever really prepared for what’s expected in your position, no matter how much they groom you for it.”

The president looked away. “You can say that again. Sometimes I wish I had made different choices, but…” Thomas massaged her temples. “Well, what choice did I really have?”

“What is it you want?” Shield asked.

“I should say I want my life back, but I don’t. I…I just want to live. For once, I want to be free of everything, including myself…who I was before all this.”

Shield didn’t know how to respond, so she didn’t. If she hated anything, it was superficial sentiments and conventional comfort speeches. She wasn’t about to tell Thomas her life wasn’t so bad, because it clearly was, and who was Shield to tell her otherwise? She also wasn’t about to tell Thomas things could get better because Shield couldn’t know that, either. If she was right and the president had gotten to the point of having to fake an attack and get five people killed in the process, chances were things could only get a lot worse.

Judging from her panic attacks and almost tangible fear, Thomas had clearly been persuaded to do something she didn’t want. Her statements tonight seemed to confirm that supposition. Shield was almost positive the president had to be convinced to go along with whatever was happening, because one sentiment was missing from her demeanor: guilt. But who could have so much power over the president of the United States?

They sat in comfortable silence for a while. Shield picked up the bottle of Il Grigio Angelo. “Would you do me the honor of trying my wine?” she asked Thomas. “Since I’m sure you’re an excellent critic, your opinion is important to me.”

“I don’t know that I’m an expert and by no means a connoisseur.”

Shield found it hard to believe that the president hadn’t had her share of good wine, coming from a prominent family and considering all the formal dinners she’d no doubt attended as a senator. She was probably just downplaying her privileged background and being careful not to give the impression of a chief executive who enjoyed alcohol. “But you enjoy a glass now and then?”