“Through the swinging doors and down the hall.” The server pointed.
“Can I have a cup of French roast when I return?”
“Sure.”
Slow. Relax. Katherine walked through the pass through doors and into the bathroom. She heard the bell chime on the front door of the cafe as the two men entered.
Cracking the restroom door, she eavesdropped. The cafe was small, so it wasn’t difficult.
“Has a woman come in here in the last minute or so? Long, curly auburn hair, green eyes, about five-foot- seven?”
“Yeah, sure,” the server said. “She just went to the restroom. That’s her coffee right there.”
It’s not my imagination, Katherine thought. They are after me. She eyed the five by six tile room. Shit, no windows.
She cracked the door open, again. They were still talking to the server.
Katherine slipped across the hallway and into the men’s bathroom. They probably won’t start with this one, she thought, looking for a way out.
Light shone from the last stall. She entered the cubicle where a small window was open. Thank God.
She slid the bottom sash up. Standing on the toilet, she placed her hands on the window ledge and lifted herself up to sit on the sill. Curling into a ball, she squeezed her left leg through the window, skinning her shin.
Katherine heard footsteps down the hall.
Quickly, she slid her right leg out as she rolled to her stomach. Then she pushed off the ledge and dropped six feet to the ground.
Her legs buckled.
‘There she is,“ a voice above her yelled.
Katherine struggled to her feet, and slipping on trash, took off running. Even though it was afternoon, the alley was in shadows, and the stench of refuse burned her nostrils.
She tried a door. Locked. She ran on.
The sound of running feet thundered in her ears.
Another door. She pulled, but it was stuck. Katherine looked back, the men were gaining. Taking a deep breath, she yanked. The door swung free.
She ran through the stockroom of a clothier and onto the sales floor. Katherine caught a glimpse of a surprised salesclerk as she dashed out the front door.
One street over from the cafe, she turned left and ran right into a Secret Service agent.
SEVENTY-FIVE
Katherine sat in Carolyn’s office trembling as she waited for the First Lady’s return. The drapes were pulled back. The sun’s rays streamed into the room, causing Katherine to blink as her eyes adjusted to the bright natural light.
Carolyn strode into the room. “Thanks, Martin. I’ll take it from here,” she said to the Secret Service agent standing outside the door.
He nodded as Carolyn shut the door behind her.
Katherine flushed crimson.
Carolyn sat behind her desk. “Why were you on my computer?”
Katherine chewed on her lower lip. “I had to check something out. I was trying to protect your reputation, but it seems that you don’t need protecting. It seems that what you’re accused of, just may be true.”
“What are you talking about?”
Katherine pointed to the documentation the agents had confiscated that now lay on Carolyn’s desk. “I think that explains everything.”
Carolyn read over the pages and shrugged. “It’s my E-mail log. What’s incriminating about it?”
“You E-mailed Cain?”
“Cain owns a private investigator firm, and yes, I’ve used them from time to time. That’s certainly not a criminal offense.”
Then, Katherine handed her the E-mail Jack had given her that tied Carolyn to Cain regarding his beating.
Carolyn quickly read the message. “Who wrote this?”‘
“I thought you did.”
Carolyn placed her hands on her desk, her gaze fixed on Katherine. “You need to tell me everything you know. Starting with Jack’s well-being.”
Katherine blanched. This wasn’t what she had planned. But now, she was committed to a complete explanation. She just hoped Jack would forgive her.
SEVENTY-SIX
Vice-President Richard Young walked beside the president as they made their way to a luncheon with the Congressional leadership in the East Room.
“This is a good opportunity to float Brandon Ross as a candidate for the Supreme Court appointment. I think a soft approach-”
Warner stopped and turned to Richard. “I would have thought that after all your years on the Hill, that you’d have realized that how you approach these guys doesn’t matter. It’s all about what they want, negotiation. And by the way, I’m not going with Ross.”
“I thought we had agreed he was the best choice,” Richard said through clenched teeth.
“No, you wanted Ross. I simply agreed that he was qualified. I’m going with Carl Rembrandt.”
Richard shook his head. “He’s too controversial and extreme. This will bite us in the ass. I can’t endorse that man.”
“When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it,” Warner turned and strolled into the room.
Throughout the luncheon, Richard hid his rage behind a practiced smile. Warner had made a habit of freezing him out, and showed no signs of thawing. He took another bite of filet mignon as he watched the interaction of the president and the Congressional leaders. The topic was an energy conservation bill that was destined to hit the president’s desk within the month.
“I think we need to take this up on the golf course,” Warner said.
“Only if you carry a pen in your golf bag,” Speaker of the House Jonathan Daniels said with a laugh. “In fact, you sign off on this bill, and I might consider letting you win the round of golf. Mr. President.”
Everyone in the room erupted into laughter.
Richard forced a laugh.
Warner’s gaze lifted from his plate and his eyes locked on Richard’s. “Richard. I’m sure everyone is interested to hear about your recommendation for the Supreme Court opening.” All of the attention in the room turned to the Vice President.
“The Vice President is recommending Carl Rembrandt for the post,” Warner continued. “Please expound on your reasoning.”
Richard caught his expression one beat before it slipped to shock.
A slight smile played on Warner’s lips. He had him by the balls and knew it. In fact, it was obvious to Richard that Warner was thoroughly enjoying this moment.
The bastard.
Warner’s sniper shot hit the bulls-eye. He should have seen him taking aim, Richard thought. Warner’s set-up had been perfect. The depths of his ruthlessness amazed Richard. In all of his years in politics, he’d never met a man so able to bend the rules to his will and repeatedly get away with it.
