Sterling grumbled as he complied with Wellman’s wishes.
“Where is my key card?” Wellman asked as he surveyed his desk. “It was right here when I left.”
Alex seized her chance.
“It’s right here,” she said, leaning forward in her chair as if she was picking the card up off the floor. She then hoisted Wellman’s prized possession in the air.
“How on earth did it end up down there?” Wellman asked.
“Harry kicked it off when he decided to pretend to be you,” Alex said.
“I did no such thing,” Sterling said in an attempt to defend himself. “I was very careful with where I placed my feet on your desk.”
“You weren’t careful enough,” Wellman said as he gently shoved Sterling in the back. “You’re such a slob. Now get out of my office before I have to call someone in a hazmat suit to remove you.”
“I knocked nothing off your desk,” Sterling said. “Your little American friend has quite a fanciful imagination. You won’t believe what she told me about her dream last night. It was quite, how should I say it—enlightening?”
“I didn’t tell you anything, you Cretan,” Alex said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the sole reason you came by this office was to start a fight and earn a promotion simply through attrition.”
“That’s absurd,” Sterling said.
“Just get out,” Wellman said. He sighed and waited for Sterling to leave. He lingered in the doorway for a few moments.
“You’re making a big mistake,” Sterling said. “I’m not your villain here.”
“Out—now!” Maddux said.
When Sterling finally exited the room, Wellman turned toward Alex.
“I’m sorry you had to see all that as well as endure one of Sterling’s petulant tantrums.”
“You don’t have to apologize for his behavior,” Alex said. “He can do that in his own time.”
“Truly, I’m sorry about the delay. What would you like to talk about again?”
“I hate to visit and run, but I need to get going. I received a call from my office, and I need to get back for an important meeting. Let’s talk again soon.”
They both stood up. “Well, if there’s anything I can ever help you with, please don’t hesitate to call me.”
“As a matter of fact, there is,” Alex said.
“And what’s that?” he asked.
“I need to make a stop in the ladies room before I leave.”
But Alex didn’t have any intention of leaving—at least not right away.
CHAPTER 5
Washington, D.C.
PRESIDENT CONRAD MICHAELS couldn’t stop smiling as he watched a report on the latest poll results. Armed with data, political pundits from both sides of the aisles bickered over what the numbers meant. The ability to spin negative news into something positive was an imperative for political operatives to survive in Washington, but even the masters of their trade couldn’t do much to reframe the dire news for Michaels’ opponent. Michaels enjoyed watching the opposing party’s minions squirm as the experts on his side gloated.
“It’s not easy to polish a turd,” quipped David Kriegel, Michaels’ chief of staff. “That’s what my father used to say whenever I brought home a bad grade and tried to explain why. He never let me finish, interrupting me with that observation.”
“Your father was right,” Michaels said. “When it stinks, you have to call it what it is and flush it. But those morons can’t seem to do that.”
“They’re the ones circling in the toilet right now.”
Michaels chuckled. “And come Election Day, the rest of the water will come swirling around them and bid them farewell.”
Kriegel nodded. “Sounds about right—as long as we don’t get an October surprise.”
“An October surprise on an incumbent president? Now, that’d be quite the trick.”
Kriegel arched his eyebrows and cocked his head to one side.
“You sure you don’t have anything else to hide?” he asked. “I’d hate to get caught off guard by—”
“You know everything there is to know,” Michaels said. “My life is an open book, both in this office and to the American people. God knows, I’m not perfect. But our country is a forgiving bunch. And if I’ve weathered the things I have while in office, there’s nothing prior to this that’s going to spell doom and gloom on my re-election campaign.”
Kriegel shook his head and wagged his finger. “That’s not a good approach. The minute you start to think there’s no way—boom—that’s when you get blindsided and everything goes to hell.”
“I don’t get blindsided. I’ve been in this game far too long to let anyone sneak up on me.”
“All I’m saying is don’t get over confident. You’ve also been in politics long enough to know that the American people are a fickle bunch. One day they love you and want to name every new school, highway, and federal building after you; the next day, they want to pick over the bones of your corpse.”
“Spare me the moral tales, David. I’m going to be fine.”
Knocking interrupted their banter, which Michaels welcomed. Kriegel’s cautious approach was helpful when he was advising Michaels’ first campaign. But now Michaels needed tenacious partners who would go for the throat of his opponent—and Kriegel lacked the killer instinct.
“Why don’t you get that,” Michaels said, nodding toward the door.
Kriegel didn’t say a word as he marched over and allowed the visitor inside.
“Thomas Miller,” Michaels began, “how did you get past my secretary?”
Michaels intended his comment as a joke, but his White House aide didn’t crack a smile.
“I have an urgent matter I needed to let you know about,” Miller said.
“Well, enough with the dramatics,” Michaels said. “Out with it.”
“Sir, it’s—it’s kind of personal. I’m not sure you want any more people than necessary knowing.”
Michaels shrugged. “I’ve got nothing to hide, especially with David here. If you’ve got something to tell me, he can hear it.”
“In that case, sir, I came to tell you about a report we received through the Secret Service.”
“What? An assassination threat? A terrorist plot?”
“No, sir. There is a woman claiming to be the mother of your daughter.”
“That’s preposterous.”
Michaels cut his eyes over at Kriegel, whose eyes had widened as
