Kim Baldwin - The Gemini Deception

“I don’t play games. That would be your friend Moore, and I could care less about announcing anything to the world. All I care about is doing my job and you…are my job.”

“If you don’t play games, then what were you trying to prove a second ago?”

“What I already suspected.”

“That I’m attracted to you?” Ryden asked.

“That you’re afraid, lonely, and that something very wrong is going on.” Kennedy walked through the door and closed it behind her.

*

Kenneth Moore led Theodora Rothschild away from the East Room and into the Red Room so they wouldn’t be overheard. The event was winding down and nearly all the media had already departed, so there was little chance of someone photographing TQ. But she was ultra-sensitive to that possibility, and Moore also wanted to minimize his being seen with her.

“She is the perfect political decoy,” TQ said as soon as he’d shut the door. “I struck gold with this one, and it took me only four tries.”

“I saw the missing-person pictures of the others on the news. Well, two of them anyway. The blonde wasn’t reported locally.” He went to the bar and poured them two cognacs as Rothschild took a seat on the couch. “Good luck finding and identifying scattered ashes.”

“I warned them,” she replied. “I told them there was no space for mistakes or imperfections. Well…except the one who died during surgery.”

“No one could have foreseen her intolerance to anesthesia.” He handed her one of the snifters and sat beside her. “Her heart seemed fine.”

“But it wasn’t. What a disappointment.”

Kenneth lifted his cognac in a toast. “Just as well. None of them were half as convincing as the florist.”

“No telling what rock talent might be hidden under, dear friend,” TQ replied. “A florist, an uneducated orphan, is more convincing than anyone could have imagined.”

They both laughed at that, but Kenneth stopped abruptly when he remembered the loose end they had to consider. “We need to have that press conference ASAP.” He put his glass down.

“Of course.”

“I mean really soon.”

TQ’s expression grew serious as well. “Is something the matter?”

“Her bodyguard, Harper Kennedy—some private-contractor dyke the Secret Service assigned to her after the attack—she’s snooping around. She suspects internal involvement, and I don’t like the way she looks at me.”

“Why haven’t I heard of her before?”

“She hasn’t been a real threat, but our florist has taken a liking to her.”

“Who does this Kennedy work for?” she asked.

“The Elite Operatives Organization.”

“I’ve heard of them.”

“I’ve asked around. It wasn’t easy to find out much. Only the highest levels of government know about their existence. It would appear they are very capable, and their agents are adopted and trained at a very young age. They require a handsome payment, but they get the job done whatever the cost or risk to themselves.”

“I’m aware. That’s why I considered them in the past.”

“It would be wise to steer clear of Kennedy,” he said.

TQ smiled. “Since when do you get paid to think?”

“I just mean—”

“If I have to deal with Kennedy or the EOO, I will.”

“I know.” Kenneth took a sip. “Senator Schuster has had enough time to come up with his arguments against the president’s illegal-arms plan.”

“More than enough. Have the double call him tomorrow and tell him she’ll hold her press conference in three days. She’ll announce she’s putting the plan on indefinite hold because his opposition has killed its chances in Congress. He’ll hold his own press conference immediately after to explain his reasons.”

“Will do.”

“We should be able to deliver Thomas back to America shortly after,” TQ said.

“And the florist can join her unsuccessful predecessors.”

“And so will her bodyguard.”

“Kennedy? Why?” He didn’t like the idea of crossing the EOO and inviting even closer scrutiny of himself.

“Think, Kenneth.” TQ sighed. “How am I supposed to let the one person who’s spent so much time with the florist, and is suspicious of her and you, continue to guard the real president?”

“But…”

“But what?” TQ leaned forward. “Do you have a problem with that, Kenneth?”

“This organization means business. They’re dangerous.”

“Business is my life. Also, nothing is more dangerous than power, and I have power.”

Chapter Nineteen

The White House

When the president reemerged from her bedroom after ten minutes alone inside, Shield followed her back to the East Room. Whereas Thomas would previously look in her direction now and then, she now avoided any eye contact.

As soon as she was at the party again, the president seemed to scan the room. For what, Shield wasn’t sure, but Kenneth Moore and the older, attractive woman Thomas had been introduced to just prior to her leaving were now absent. Though Shield hadn’t been close enough to hear their conversation, she’d seen the surprised, almost shocked expression on Thomas’s face. She made a mental note to inquire about the woman later.

Some of the guests were waiting to thank the president and bid her farewell, so Thomas made her way to them. She was poised, as she usually was, but Shield noticed that her eyes were void of emotion, almost cold.

Shield had never meant to play with her and hadn’t; what she had done, however, was get herself into an impossible predicament.

Thomas clearly wasn’t interested in Moore, and was even afraid of him, but Thomas’s words had touched her to the core. Although the president was straight and used to be married, Shield couldn’t bear the thought of any man touching her. She was upset even now just picturing it. So when Thomas had said Moore’s advances were welcome, Shield felt the need to prove her wrong.

She’d wanted to prove that whatever was going on between her and Thomas, no matter how simple, temporary, or superficial, was still more real than what Thomas could feel for another, let alone that despicable little man she was protecting.

The memory of those few seconds, so close to the president, flooded her consciousness. Those full lips…those warm and vulnerable dark eyes…the intoxicating scent of Thomas, all combined into the most intimate, sensual sensation she had ever experienced, even if it was an impossible if not catastrophic scenario. Why did this have to happen? Her life was fine as it was—her wine, home, and Monica, all picked and combined like her grapes to create the flavor that suited her. Thomas, conversely, was a complicated vine she couldn’t fuse with herself or her life.

The president shook hands with the last of her guests just as Moore returned. He whispered something to Thomas, smiled when Thomas nodded, and left again.

A few moments later, the president turned to leave as well, and Shield followed her to the Oval Office. Thomas practically shut the door in her face, and Shield was about to call in a replacement so she could take a break when Moore showed up.

“I take it Madam President is inside,” he said.

“That’s correct.”

“We are not to be disturbed.”

“Understood.”

“About that theory of yours, how’s it panning out?”

“Theory, sir?”

“The insider-collaboration-to-kill-the-president premise.” He smiled. “Your conspiracy theory?” he added in a belittling tone.

“I never said whoever is involved was trying to kill the president,” Shield said, matter-of-factly. “Just like I never said it was a theory.”

“Oh?”

“If the assailants wanted to kill the president that day, they would have.”