AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Rielly eyed his sculpted hair, handsome face, and waxed eyebrows. “And what would those be?”
Alexander smiled, showing a perfect set of bleached white teeth. “You get to work with me.”
“Really?” said Rielly.
“Yeah, really.” Alexander placed his hand on her shoulder and turned her out into the hall. “I was just on my way to get some coffee before you got here. Let’s go get a couple of cups, and I’ll show you around and introduce you to everyone.” As they walked toward the White House mess, Alexander continued his small talk. “So, how long have you been in town?”
“Just got in yesterday.”
“Has anyone shown you around yet?”
“No. I haven’t even unpacked.”
Alexander put his hand on her back and ushered her into the mess first. Rielly noticed that he let his hand linger on her back for an inappropriate amount of time. She looked around the cafeteria and was once again shocked by how small it was. There were probably twenty people sitting at the rectangular tables drinking coffee, eating, talking, and reading various newspapers.
“So are you married?” asked Alexander.
Rielly hesitated for a second and figured lying would do no good.
“No.”
Alexander grinned with optimism. “Maybe I could show you around tonight. I know a great new restaurant in Adams-Morgan.”
“Thanks, but I have a lot of unpacking to do.”
“A person has to eat,” he said persistently.
Rielly realized Mr. Hormone would need to be dealt with a little more firmly and said, “Thanks, but I have a rule about dating reporters.”
“And what would that be?” asked Alexander, his smile still plastered across his face.
“I don’t,” Rielly said as she continued to look around the room.
“And why is that?”
Rielly turned around and, with a sarcastic grin, replied, “I don’t trust them.”
Alexander laughed. “Are there any other rules I need to know about?”
“Yeah . . . I don’t like to date men who are prettier than I am.”
“THIS IS THE Roosevelt Room. It is called that because of the two portraits that hang on its walls.” Piper stepped into the room and motioned to the two paintings. Aziz strained to remain calm as Piper stopped at every painting, statue, and room on the way to the Oval Office. Acting his part as a West Wing tour guide, Piper babbled on about the history of the building, and Aziz nodded politely.
“You’ll notice that the portrait of Franklin Delano Roosevelt hangs above the fireplace mantel and the portrait of Teddy Roosevelt hangs over here to our right. It has become a tradition at the White House that whenever the sitting president is a Republican, Teddy’s portrait hangs over the fireplace, and when a Democrat is in office, the portraits are switched and FDR’s portrait hangs in the position of honor.” Piper folded his hands in front of his robust midsection and smiled at the rendering of his party’s icon.
While Aziz feigned interest in the artwork and historical rooms, he had marked and counted the exact position of every Secret Service officer and agent they had passed. It all seemed so easy as he casually walked among them. He was a welcomed and honored guest in a place he did not belong. All of the fences, high-tech security, and heavily armed Secret Service agents were there to stop him, and not a single one of them had the slightest clue that within their midst walked their greatest fear.
Piper rubbed a hand along the long shiny surface of the Roosevelt Room’s conference table. “A lot of our guests get this room confused with the Cabinet Room. That however, is across the hall and on our way to the pressroom. I’ll show you those when we’re done meeting with the president.” Piper walked to the fireplace and stopped. “I almost forgot.” Gesturing to a small bronze sculpture on the mantel, he said, “This is something we are very proud of. Our previous First Lady, also a Democrat I might add”—Piper beamed with pride—“had this bust of Eleanor Roosevelt added to the room. She felt that the room was too much of a boys’ club and felt that a woman needed to be added to the mix.”
Aziz looked at the small statue and said, “In my country such an idea would be ludicrous.” He turned and walked to the open doorway to his right. As he looked across the hall, Aziz felt both a wave of elation and tension rising up from within. He knew from studying the floor plans of the White House that the door in front of him was one of four doors that led to the Oval Office. It was open, and from where he was standing, he could clearly see the rich blue carpet and furniture arranged in front of the fireplace. He was so close.
Standing next to the door was a very large and serious-looking Secret Service agent. The agent’s sandy brown hair was cut short around his ears, and his neck bulged underneath his white shirt and tie. Aziz did a quick inventory as his eyes met the agent’s and slid downward. Before turning back to Piper, Aziz noted that the agent was left-handed. The bulge on the agent’s left hip was caused by his Secret Service standard issue SIG-Sauer handgun.
Piper joined Aziz in the doorway and said, “Are you ready to meet the presi
dent?”
Aziz nodded and willed himself forward at Piper’s side, his legs feeling rubbery as the adrenaline began to pump through his veins. Aziz stepped into the hallway, and for a split second he wondered if it could be a trap, if they might know who he really was. But before he could worry any further, they were at the door, and Piper was knocking on the frame.
