Oath of Office

“Like what?”

“Like me!”

Martin seemed not to have heard her, but he did uncross his arms and softened his expression once more. “Honey, let’s not do this,” he pleaded. “I’m sorry for what I said about you not understanding politics. I just hate seeing people take advantage of you.”

Darlene pulled away. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Martin sighed again. “It means this Double M, whoever he is, clearly knows your weakness and your commitment to good nutrition for all. Bottom line is this guy is a radical. He’s a crackpot, using you to get to me. And you just bought into it.”

Darlene’s bubble of self-control burst. “I saw those mutated bugs, Martin!” she shouted, no longer caring whether the Oval Office was soundproof or not. “They’re monsters. They can’t be considered food.”

Finally, Martin looked as if he were listening. “Where did you see them?”

Darlene sucked in a breath and regretted making the disclosure. “Victor drove Dr. Welcome and me to Philadelphia. We met with an entomologist there. That’s how I knew the insects had to have been mutated.”

“Victor drove you and some strange man to Philadelphia?” Martin’s rage could be felt. “I swear I’m going to have that fucker run out of the service.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Then don’t you dare go behind my back again, Darlene. You don’t know what you’re screwing around with. You are way, and I mean way, out of your league here.”

“I want you to talk with Lou Welcome,” Darlene said.

Martin reddened even more. “I’ll do no such thing! You just told me he was a drug addict and an emergency doctor, not a nutritionist! The only arrangements I’m going to make are for you to leave town to have a visit with Lisa until this whole train thing is over and the corn is where it should be-in the ground and on the dishes in China. You need to get some perspective on things, Darlene. Leave the politics to me. I want you out of this. No more investigating. No more talk about Russell Evans, Lou Welcome, or your jaunts to Philadelphia. Is that understood?”

Darlene moved as far away from her husband as she could without actually leaving. “Or what?” she demanded.

“Or I promise you that Victor Ochoa will need to find a new career, and it’ll be your fault when it happens. And if your doctor friend gets in my way, I’ll have him hounded until he melts like hot butter.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Darlene said in a near growl.

“Don’t test me.”

Darlene and Martin locked eyes, with neither yielding. In many ways, Darlene knew Martin better than he knew himself. Although they often disagreed, Darlene had never known the president to lie to her. His threat to fire Victor, she believed, was not veiled or lacking teeth. He meant what he had said, and would do as he had promised. Darlene felt certain that was true.

But at some point during their argument, his eyes had betrayed him. At some point he hadn’t told the truth.

If only she knew what lie he had told.

“Just do yourself a favor, President Mallory,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“When they ask for someone to write your legacy, don’t recommend me.”

CHAPTER 47

“Who is this?”

Kim could barely hear the caller above the din of rush hour noise.

She blocked her ear with one hand and moved away from the traffic and closer to the buildings. It had been a brutal day at work, and she had chosen take-home salad from Panera Bread over dinner with a potentially interesting congressman from California.

“Kim, it’s Doug, from Bar None,” the caller said.

“The bartender?”

“Yeah, Doug the bartender.”

Kim became hyperfocused. Why would he be calling? How did he even know her phone number?

“What’s up?” she asked.

“Some guy in the bar wants to buy you a drink. He gave me your number and paid me a hundred bucks to call you. Sorry to bug you, but the truth is I can always use that kind of cash.”

Kim tensed. “Is it … the same guy from before?” she asked.

“Look, you’ve come in here lots of times with a bunch of great-looking women, and I’m not sure I could pick any of you out of a crowd. People buy people drinks all the time here. I’m just a messenger.”

“Could you tell me what the guy looks like?”

There was a pause. “Well, actually, I can. He’s old.”

“Old? Can you see him?”

“Not at the moment. It’s pretty busy right now. He said he’ll be sticking around for another fifteen minutes. Longer if you promise to show up. Okay? I got to go.”

“Okay,” Kim replied to a dead line. “I’ll be there.”

Not Double M, she thought.

No longer feeling exhausted, Kim called Darlene.

“Hey, there,” Darlene said, answering her phone on the first ring with an unusually somber voice.

Something was wrong.

“You okay?” Kim asked, already headed toward the Bar None.

“Actually, no, I’m not. Want to talk?”

“Actually, we’ve got to talk.”

She told Darlene about the bartender’s call.

“If it’s not Double M,” Darlene said, “it’s probably someone with a message from him. You’ve got to go there right now.”

“I’m already on my way. What about you?”

“I’ll call or else meet you there as soon as I can. And Kim,” she added, catching her chief of staff just before she ended the call.

“Yes?”

“You be careful.”

When Kim arrived, Bar None was enjoying another packed night of deep-pocketed patrons. Spotting an opening at the bar near where Doug was serving at Mach 2 speed, she wormed her way onto the stool and waved for the bartender’s attention. When he finally came over, he seemed unaware that he had just minutes ago called her cell phone. He just stood there, waiting impatiently to take her order. The jukebox was blasting a song from the country trio Lady Antebellum, and a dozen young and beautifuls were vying for his attention.

“What can I get you?” he called out.

“I’m the woman you just phoned.”

Recognition dawned. “Oh yeah,” he said, nodding vigorously. “Here you go.” He handed Kim an open Amstel Light, along with a cardboard coaster.

She left the beer on the bar and flipped over the coaster. To her surprise, there was no writing on the bottom. Her heartbeat began to accelerate.

“Edwin told me you’d do that,” said a gravelly voice at her elbow.

Kim snapped her head right and saw a cadaverous-looking man in a nicely tailored suit and striped bow tie. Tall and stoop shouldered, the man, well into his seventies, she guessed, extended a bony hand. He had a road map of narrow veins covering his sunken cheeks, and bushy white eyebrows hovering above a set of intelligent chestnut