Knowing that his wife was involved with someone else made Young physically ill. He had his share of indiscretions when it came to gambling and taking campaign donations that may not have been entirely legal. But he still held fast to the belief that his marriage was sacred ground. Yet Madeline obviously didn’t share that same value.
He sighed as he wandered around the residential portion of the White House. Madeline could often be found at gatherings promoting whatever her cause du jour was, but her schedule on this particular afternoon was surprisingly free. Outside of a long vacation, Young couldn’t remember the last time he saw an entire afternoon empty on his wife’s schedule.
Young ambled down several corridors and called her name. Eventually, he received a response.
“I’m in our bedroom,” she said.
Young spun to his right and strode down the hall toward their room. She was sitting on the foot of the bed, trying to put on a pearl necklace by herself.
He forced a smile as soon as he laid eyes on her, noticing her struggle to latch her jewelry while keeping her hair up and out of the way.
“Would you like a hand?” he asked.
“If you want to give me one,” she said. “I can handle this myself.”
“There’s nothing wrong with asking me for help, dear,” Young said, doing everything in his power to keep from lashing out at her.
“Okay, sure. It’s a little clasp you have to pull back so you can hook the two sides together.”
Young worked quickly to secure the necklace. “You look like you’re headed somewhere, but your schedule is empty.”
“Yes, I know. I cleared the afternoon, but there’s this charity event I found out about at the last minute and changed my mind,” she said. “I wanted to go, and we were able to get all the details worked out so I could.”
“That should be fun,” Young said. “Is it at the Kennedy Center?”
“You know I’m a sucker for anything held there.”
Young noticed her phone sitting on the vanity counter but needed to draw her attention elsewhere so he could palm the device. He scanned the room for a distraction.
“Are you sure this dress is warm enough?” Young asked. “Look outside. It’s so dark.”
As soon as her eyes shifted in the direction of the window, he snatched the phone and slid it into his pocket.
“It’s windy, but not snowing. At least not yet.”
He forced a smile and cocked his head to one side. “February in Washington.”
“God, I can’t wait for the cherry blossoms to start blooming. It’ll mean the end of this dreary season is almost here.”
“Well, don’t forget your coat tonight. And by the way, you look stunning.”
Madeline straightened up and studied herself in the mirror. “Why thank you, dear. It’s not easy to look this beautiful.”
Or so traitorous.
“I need to finish up a few things in my study, but you have a nice time tonight,” he said before he exited the room and headed down the hallway.
When he reached his library, he went to work. Following Alex’s instructions, he plugged the phone into a small gray box that also led to the phone Blunt had given him. In a matter of seconds, the clone phone’s screen started uploading the information. And it moved far slower than Young would’ve preferred.
The screen counted off the amount transferred: 5% . . . 10% . . . 12% . . . 14% . . . 17%.
“Come on, come one,” Young said under his breath. He knew it’d only be a matter of seconds before Madeline stormed down the hall in search of her cell.
The cloning had only hit fifty percent when Madeline’s heels clicked down the hall, and not in a leisurely manner. He knew the walk. It was the fast and furious pace, the kind he’d been all too accustomed to since his marriage had taken a downward turn.
As her footfalls drew closer, Young looked down at the screen. It was only at seventy percent. He took a deep breath and conjured up a way to distract her until the cloning finished. While it wasn’t the best story, he figured it would be sufficient to stall her.
Young jumped when her phone rang. He ripped the cord from her phone and placed it at the edge of his desk.
“There you are,” Madeline said as she entered the room. In her right hand, she held another phone.
“Is that your phone?” Young asked. “What is it doing in here? I hadn’t even noticed it sitting on the corner there until it rang.”
“Thankfully my assistant keeps better track of her phone than I do of mine,” she said, holding up the phone in her hand. She snatched up her cell and headed toward the door.
“I would say don’t wait up, but you’re always up no matter what time I come home.”
“Have fun, dear,” Young said before he spun around in his chair and stared at the remnants of his failed attempt.
He waited until he could no longer hear Madeline’s heels echoing down the White House residential corridors before calling Blunt.
“Did you get it?” Blunt asked.
“I’m sorry, J.D.,” Young said. “I failed.”
Blunt sighed. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure out something. Just be on high alert.”
* * *
ALEX LOOKED AT THE TEXT message from Blunt and then rubbed her face. Without a clone of the first lady’s phone, there was no way to hear what she was doing or know who she was talking to. The best Alex could do was identify phone numbers who called Madeline,
