Buffalo West Wing (26 page)

“You mean we’re babysitter free now?” I asked.

“You are. But that doesn’t mean that we won’t have a presence down here at all. Expect agents to pop in from time to time just to check on things.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “We’ll continue to cooperate and be as open as we can.”

Cyan raised her hand to get Tom’s attention. “What’s up with Agent Nourie?”

Tom snapped, “Why?”

“Just wondering. We kinda got used to him down here.”

“That’s part of why he’s being reassigned.” Flicking a glance at me, he continued talking to Cyan. “Contrary to what you might believe, fraternization between Secret Service agents and White House staff members is discouraged.”

Cyan’s face went so red I thought she might explode. “I was just asking.”

“All personnel changes are effective immediately.”

That didn’t answer much, but Tom wasn’t finished. “I have a few other matters to discuss with all of you.” He turned to Virgil. “Would you mind stepping into the hall for a few moments, please? I need to consult with these individuals privately.”

Taken aback, Virgil said, “Sure,” but he clearly wasn’t pleased to be excluded.

As soon as he was gone, Tom lowered his voice. “You all know about the tainted chicken wings.” Turning to Bucky and Cyan, he added, “Ollie was ordered not to tell you that arsenic was found on the wings, but you two aren’t stupid. I appreciate that you’ve kept the matter quiet thus far, despite the obvious temptation to share the information with Mrs. Hyden.”

Gav’s explanation last night about why Mrs. Hyden was being kept in the dark went a long way to keeping me appeased.

The three of us nodded.

“Ollie already knows that we have been questioning one of our agents in the handling of the tainted food.”

Bucky and Cyan exchanged a worried glance. “One of the agents brought the wings in here?” Bucky asked.

Tom grimaced. “Yes and no. We have fully investigated him, and corroborated his story. It appears that the box of chicken wings was brought in during the move—as we suspected—but no one actually saw who might have included them in the moving van with the Hydens’ personal belongings. The agent we’ve been questioning found the box in the Diplomatic Reception Room, where everything had been staged. He thought that the wings ought to be served from the kitchen. So he brought them here.”

“He didn’t think anything was suspicious?”

“No one would have found it suspicious. There was an extremely efficient and tight chain of custody from the time the Hydens’ belongings left their home until the time they arrived here to be unpacked. Whoever added that box is someone with high clearance.”

“My God, that means you can’t trust anybody,” I said.

“What we’ve done is reassign all agents. Anyone who had direct access to the Hydens’ possessions that day has been assigned to positions outside the residence. That is, except for a few key personnel who we hope to God are above suspicion.”

“Like you?” I asked.

He nodded.

“So that’s why Gardez is gone,” I said. “I remember meeting him, and Bost, on Inauguration Day.”

“All such agents are being reassigned. Not just them.”

“This seems to be coming awfully late,” I said. “I mean, if you really suspected anyone on your team, shouldn’t these reassignments have come before now?”

Tom bristled. “Hindsight is twenty-twenty, isn’t it? If you’d been listening, you’ll recall this is all coming on the heels of what we learned from the agent we’ve been interrogating.” Anger flashed in his eyes. “Still the Monday-morning quarterback, aren’t you?”

I swallowed my anger. But Tom shook his head. “I apologize. That was uncalled for.” Regaining his composure, he went on, “Sorry, I’ve been under a great deal of stress.” He made eye contact with the three of us. “As have we all. My department has come under scrutiny—as it should. But this morning, during a six o’clock briefing”—

Hmm ... the meeting Gav mentioned?

—“we were ordered to make these personnel changes.” Tom chose that moment to stare straight at me. “The agents in charge of this investigation have made it clear that you—the kitchen staff—need to be kept in the loop.”

“Really?” Cyan said.

Again Tom stared at me. “The higher-ups believe that since the three of you were involved from the very start, and that the children were spared because of your actions, it is imperative we keep you updated. It is also imperative that you understand that just because the ‘babysitters,’ as you so fondly termed them, are gone doesn’t mean we believe the threat to the White House is over.” He frowned. “They believe placing Secret Service agents in the kitchen full time is not a good use of our resources. They have full confidence in the three of you.”

I wanted to ask Tom if that meant
he
didn’t have confidence in the three of us, but instead I asked, “What about Virgil? Why did you ask him to leave?”

“Virgil is not considered a threat to the First Family’s safety, but he is a threat to security. If I told him what I’ve just told you, he would undoubtedly run straight to Mrs. Hyden with the story. We can’t have that. He knows nothing about the connection between the chicken wings and our stricken staff members. Any information he has on the hostage situation last week would have come from the news. It’s best if we continue to keep him out of the loop.”

We asked a few more questions, and were just about wrapping up when Virgil knocked on the wall behind us. “Can I come back yet? I have work to do.”

Tom waved him in. “Just finishing up here.” To the group, he said, “Any questions about these changes should be brought to my attention. You know where to find me. I will ask that you do not discuss these matters with anyone other than me, or the agent in charge of the investigation who has been brought in.”

“Who’s that?” Cyan asked.

I already knew.

“You’ve met him. Special Agent in Charge Gavin.”

Cyan looked at me. “Gav?” she said. “Didn’t he call you the other day? Did you know he was coming back?”

I mumbled something incomprehensible, all the while aware that Tom was watching me.

“Thanks, everyone,” he said, then turned to me again. “I have one more item to discuss with you alone.” He pointed out to the hall. “Do you have a moment?”

I didn’t know what to expect. Had Gav mentioned that he and I had gotten together last night? No, Gav was smarter than that. Plus, nothing had happened. And maybe nothing ever would. Butterflies danced in my stomach as I followed Tom out.

Two butlers maneuvered a cart toward the elevator, so Tom walked east, stopping just short of the China Room. Looking up and down the hall, he whispered, “This is just for you, okay? Don’t share it with anyone else.”

“Of course.” I still had no idea of what he was about to say.

“You called me the other day,” he began, “about Bost and Zeller.”

I nodded.

“You were right about them. They did an end-run around me and took their innuendo straight to your friend Gav. That’s another reason why they’re being reassigned. Gav is a sharp guy and he’s handling it professionally. If they had had solid grievances, they could have gone through channels. Instead it became obvious they were gunning for promotion.” Tom’s lips came together tightly. “I just wanted to thank you for giving me the heads-up. I know I wasn’t exactly gracious on the phone when you brought it to my attention.”

I was about to dismiss his apology and explain that I understood, when we heard footsteps coming down the nearby stairs.

Tom turned, and straightened the moment we saw who it was.

I was about to say, “Gav!” but remembered where I was. “Special Agent in Charge,” I said warmly. “It’s good to see you again.”

Gav took a moment to assess the situation. I caught a quizzical look in his eyes as he nodded hello. “Ms. Paras,” he said. To Tom: “Agent MacKenzie, I trust you’ve brought our kitchen staff up to date.”

At that moment, Gav looked at me, and I at him. There was nothing in his eyes to give away what he might be feeling. He was all business. And yet ...

Tom stepped back shifting his gaze between us. “Yes,” he said. “And I was just thanking Ms. Paras here for her assistance on another matter.”

“Very well.” Face impassive, Gav continued. “I will be unable to run the meeting at fourteen-hundred today. Will you take that over for me?”

Tom looked surprised, but recovered quickly. “Of course,” he said. “You were going to address all the personnel changes with the remaining PPD. I thought you wanted to handle that personally.”

“If I could be there, I would.”

There was alarm in Tom’s expression. “Are you—”

Gav held up a hand, stopping Tom midsentence. “A situation has come up.” Nodding to me again he said, “Very nice to see you again, Ms. Paras,” then walked away.

“What’s up with that?” I asked, because I couldn’t
not
ask. “Is he going into some kind of danger?”

Tom’s eyes narrowed. “What do you know?”

“Nothing really,” I started to say, but I’m such a bad liar, I stuck mostly to the truth. “He just seemed preoccupied, and abrupt. Didn’t you think so, too?”

Tom studied me a moment longer. Finally, he said. “Gav is sharp and he’s smart. He’ll be fine.” He consulted his watch. “Thank you again, Ollie. But now I have to run.”

I stared after them both for a long moment, knowing I had no control over either man’s destiny, but wishing, at least in Gav’s case, that I did. Both were good guys. Both strong and smart and kind. Tom was probably right. Gav would be fine. I stared upward and whispered a little prayer to protect him.

CHAPTER 22

THE FOUR OF US WERE HARD AT WORK IN THE kitchen. Bucky, Cyan, and I coordinated with the social secretary’s office, the calligraphy office, and Kendra to get the flowers just right for the state dinner. Just three days away, we were in that crazy period where everything that can go wrong usually does, and time slips by twice as fast as it should.

“Virgil seems less ... painful to be around,” Cyan whispered when he stepped out of the kitchen. “What’s up with that? You think he’s starting to fit in?”

Bucky moved closer. “He didn’t pitch a fit all day yesterday,” he said, then gave a wry chuckle. “Maybe it’s you, Ollie. You weren’t here. Let’s see how he behaves today.”

“He’s still adjusting. I’m sure things will get better in time,” I said. “I spoke with him about Mrs. Hyden’s budget concerns with regard to food.”

“When?”

“This morning. I expected him to bite my head off, but he took it rather well.” I shrugged. “Maybe now he’s starting to understand that he’s cooking for a family now, not for important write-ups in newspapers and trade journals.”

“It’s about time he showed a little respect for what we do around here,” Cyan said.

“This has got to be a tough adjustment for him. After all, he came in thinking he’d snagged the top job. I’d be surprised if we didn’t see any backlash from him at all. He just needs to settle in. Although he understands his role, I don’t think he’s happy about it. When I explained Mrs. Hyden’s displeasure over the costs of ingredients he’d ordered, he seemed genuinely shocked.”

“As soon as the media folk stop covering his every move and ‘innovation,’ he’ll get bored,” Bucky said. “Mark my words: A year from now, he’ll be executive chef at some posh hotel in New York.” Turning to Cyan, and obviously remembering Rafe’s flight out of the White House, he said, “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that’s a bad thing.”

Cyan patted Bucky’s arm. “No problem. I’m over him now.”

One thing I had to admit: Having Virgil in charge of the family meals had taken a great deal of pressure off of the rest of us during the preparations for the state dinner. I couldn’t say that I was happy to have him part of our kitchen, but I’d come to a place where I didn’t resent him quite so much.

I suppose I shouldn’t have spoken so quickly.

 

Valerie Peacock swooped into the kitchen. “Good afternoon,” she said with a bright smile. “How are plans for Wednesday progressing?” She glanced around the room as though looking for someone.

“Perfectly.” I wiped my hands on my apron and approached her. “We’ve got all the staples on hand, and the fresh meats and produce will arrive late Tuesday or early Wednesday morning.”

“Will you be at full staff all week?”

Unusual question. “Bucky has tomorrow off. But Tuesday and Wednesday, we will all be here.”

“Where is Virgil?”

“He stepped out,” I said.

“He does that,” Bucky added. “A lot.”

Her smile didn’t dim. “How much will Virgil be involved in the state dinner?”

“He’s mostly tied up with family meal preparations,” I said, “but we will probably need him to pitch in at the last minute.”

“You and your staff are the ones actually handling the dinner, right? And you don’t foresee any problems?”