them away and threw herself at him. Before he knew what was happening, her lips were planted on his. A moment later, she leapt up into the air and wrapped her legs around him.
“I-really think there’s-there’s b-been some sort of mistake,” Ben said, struggling to get his face free from hers.
“You know you want it, handsome.”
“I’m-pretty sure I don’t.”
“Let me convince you.” Ben felt her hand grabbing in a place where it should not be grabbing.
“Do-I know you?” Ben asked, pulling away.
And the instant his face emerged over her shoulder, the flash erupted in his eyes.
28
“Got it!” Jones said, as he ran into the office, practically colliding with Christina at the front desk.
“Do you indeed?” she answered, not looking up from her phone messages. Over the years, she had become accustomed to Jones’s occasional bursts of irrational enthusiasm and had learned to restrain her expectations. “And what would that be?”
“Something you’re going to want to see.”
Christina laid down her papers, sighing. She knew she would never find out what he had until he felt she had given him the proper amount of attention. “All right, Jones. What’ve you got?”
“Oh, nothing much…”
“Jones,” she said firmly, giving him the look. “Don’t toy with me. What is it?”
Jones had also worked with Christina long enough to know that when she gave him the look, it was time to submit. “Just a little something you wanted from the Bethesda Coroner’s Office.”
Her eyes instantly widened. “Already?” She snatched the envelope out of his hands. “Freedom of Information Act requests usually take weeks. Sometimes months.”
Jones laid a hand across his chest. “You’re not the only one who has connections in this town, you know.”
“Apparently not.” She pulled the papers out of the envelope and began to read:
CORONER’S REPORT-EMILY BLAKE
Office of the Coroner-Medical Examiner Case No. 1003-76
Capitol Boulevard, Washington, D.C. Report of Investigation Decedent: Emily Margaret Blake
Age: 42
Sex: Female
Race: White
Occupation: First Lady
Employed by: The White House
Type of Death: Apparent Natural____________________
Violent__X__ At Work____________________
Not at Work _
Description:
Height: 5' 6'
Weight: 131
Hair: Black
Eyes: Brown
Tattoos: One, left buttock
Scars: None identified
Other Identifying Features: Large birthmark in center of back
Rigor Mortis: None
Livor Mortis: Slight posterior
Narrative Summary: Victim arrived dead via Air Force Two at approximately 12:42 local time. Preliminary examination revealed massive brain trauma apparently induced by a bullet to the head…
Christina blinked. “The first lady had a tattoo on her butt?”
Jones nodded. “It’s true what they say. You never really know someone until they’re dead.”
Christina scanned the report. It was more than a little ghoulish, reading intimate details about a woman so beloved by her country-including Christina-after she was dead and buried. But there was a reason. Something was going on here, something more than just a stray bullet during a presidential assassination attempt. She intended to get to the bottom of it.
Christina continued scanning. Toxicology, tissue samples, blood screens, serology…
“Wait a minute,” she said abruptly. “What’s with the black bar?”
Jones peered over her shoulder. Sure enough, black bars covered the six lines that followed the topic heading SEROLOGY.
“It’s been redacted,” Jones said, stating the obvious. “Before the document was released.”
“But why? Under the FOIA, government agencies are not authorized to redact any document unless there is a potential threat to national security.”
“So the first lady’s blood test poses a threat to national security? You think she had…some kind of disease?” He didn’t mention any disease in particular, but he knew what they both were thinking.
“I don’t see how that could possibly have been covered up.”
“Loving thinks the government can cover anything up.”
“Including the fact that President Blake is a Martian. I don’t think that’s it.”
“But what, then? What could be so secret about her blood?”
“Serology isn’t necessarily limited to blood analysis, in a coroner’s report. It could cover any bodily fluids.”
“I’m still not seeing the threat to national security.”
Christina pondered a moment, batting a finger against her lips. “Seems rather improbable, doesn’t it? And yet, there must be some reason this information was redacted. Perhaps because, whether it affected national security or not, someone just didn’t want this information made public.”
“Who would have the power to get this document altered just because he or she didn’t want it made public?”
“There are only a few possibilities,” Christina said. “None of them good.”
“You think this is about the first lady, don’t you? The whole thing.”
Christina thought carefully before answering. “I don’t know what it is. But I intend to find out.”
Christina was still pondering the coroner’s report when she heard a knock on the door of her private office.
Jones poked his head inside. “Someone here wants to see you.”
“Are they from the coroner’s office?”
“I don’t think so. Suit-and-tie types.”
“Shoes?”
“Very nice. Gucci, I think.”
Christina frowned. “Lobbyists. Tell them I’m busy.”
