The Chimera Sequence (6 page)

Not just with the dog, or his handler, but with her whole life right now. Only a few weeks into her summer internship in the White House Press Office, and she was thriving in the new role. The press secretary himself, Andrew Mills, had asked her to be his personal assistant for the summer. Even though that meant more responsibility and longer hours than some of her fellow interns, she jumped at the opportunity. She’d also fallen in love with D.C. and all that urban living had to offer. Who said a country girl from Wyoming couldn’t make it in the big city?

“I’m so sorry I’m late, Mr. Mills,” Anna said, pushing on the door to his West Wing office.

Her boss was there, standing behind his desk. But he was clearly talking to someone else, now blocked from view by the open door. His eyes opened wide as he said, “Good morning, Anna.”

She stepped into the room and tried to muffle a gasp. President David Rogers turned to face her with an impatient look. His expression instantly softened, however, and he extended a large wrinkled hand.

“I don’t think we’ve met. You probably know me, but you are—?”

“Anna. Anna McBride, sir. Mr. President, sir.” She felt the hot flush of blood spread across her face. “I’m so sorry for interrupting. I’ll just wait outside now. Thank you, sir.”

“This is my summer intern,” Mills said. “Apparently she hasn’t yet learned the importance of knocking on doors before entering.” He looked pointedly at Anna as he said these last words, but the grave expression quickly broke into a grin. “Just get yourself some coffee—I’ll be out in a minute.”

“No, I insist that she stay with us. Coffee can wait, but urgent discussions of international significance cannot. This is what she is here to learn, is it not?”

“Well, sir, I guess you’re right. This will be good for her.”

Anna couldn’t resist one more face-saving plea. “Really, I’ll be very happy to wait outside.”

“Too late, Anna,” Mills said. “Just listen and learn and remember your non-disclosure agreements.” He turned back to the president. “I just don’t see how you can go forward with this speech on conflict minerals in light of the disaster of a storm brewing in the Caribbean this morning.”

Anna’s ears perked up at the mention of conflict minerals. Her boss had given her the draft press releases to review last week, and she was immediately captivated by the story. Ever a faithful fan of Leonardo DiCaprio, she had seen and loved
Blood Diamond
years ago. Since then, she’d maintained a vague impression that the issue was pretty much taken care of. Something about the Kimberley Process, right? Now Anna knew that she had been wrong. Yes, the diamond industry was a little cleaner, but in its place were the gold, tin, and tantalum that now lined the pockets of governments and criminals alike throughout central Africa. This was something she could get excited about. But now a darn hurricane had to come and spoil the party!

“We’ve kept these people waiting for three years now,” President Rogers responded. “It’s not just a pet concern of mine. I thought you agreed that there are genuine national security implications here?”

Mills took a sip of coffee before replying. “You know I do. We’ve committed to addressing the issue, and today’s conference would’ve been the perfect venue.”

“Would have been?” The president’s forehead was deeply furrowed.

“I just don’t think you can afford another criticism over misguided priorities. Not with the election only four months away. Your challenger will love portraying you as too focused on a mysterious African mining problem when you should be worrying about this monster of a hurricane here at home. Remember Bush’s mess with Katrina?”

“You’re right, of course. But this is important.”

Anna was surprised at the president’s apparently genuine interest in the issue.

“It is,” the press secretary agreed. “There are lots of important things happening in the world, every day. And they’re all vying for your attention. But with all due respect, sir, we’ve reached our current quota of hot-button issues. First the Israeli retaliation in southern Lebanon, now the storm, and I know you haven’t forgotten all the planning we’ve done for this Celebration of America on the Fourth.”

“Anna, what do you think?”

The president’s question caught her off-guard. She looked up into his intense green eyes, her mind racing to formulate a response worthy of this first presidential interaction. Thank God for all those years of speech and debate. Thinking on her feet and speaking with poise were talents Anna had worked hard to develop.

“I really admire you for getting behind the conflict mineral issue, Mr. President, and I agree that it needs your support in order to facilitate real change in the region. There are a lot of young voters who would love to see you taking more of a leadership role in promoting peace and economic growth in Africa.”

President Rogers’ eyebrows went up. “Well thank you, young lady.”

“But I also have to agree with Mr. Mills,” Anna continued. “We can’t risk the comparisons to Katrina. Today this office needs to be all hurricane, all the time.”

“Much as I hate to say it, you’re exactly right.” The president smiled. A smile that made Anna cringe inside. “At this point in the election cycle we can’t afford any mistakes.”

“And there you have it,” Mills said. “We’ll put these press releases on the back burner for today, at least. Now let’s see where we’re at with this storm.”

Anna hopped off her old purple Schwinn and squeezed it into a crowded bike rack. She had lost the original seat to an enterprising thief on her second day in D.C., and the new one was now securely bolted in place. They’d have to work a little harder for this one. She spun the combination lock and gave it a good tug. Life in the city did come with its own annoyances, but she could adjust, no problem.

Turning the corner onto 7th Street Southeast, she glanced at her reflection in the big windows of a French café. Although the temperature itself wasn’t unbearable yet, this East Coast humidity was going to take some getting used to. Her normally tame hair had frizzed up like crazy, and she’d also learned just how quickly she could break a sweat. The day’s walk from Union Station back to her apartment on East Capitol was so bad she hopped in a thirty second cold shower before running right out the door again. Back in her native garb of jean shorts, comfy t-shirt, and Chacos, she could manage much more easily. The dark business suits she had taken such care to pick out for the internship were quite obviously not made for summer in D.C.

Anna caught sight of her twin brother as she approached a wall of glass fronting the coffee shop.
Now that is a good-looking guy.
She took great pride in Chase’s appearance and even felt an odd sense of ownership—those first nine months of extremely close quarters had served to create a unique bond.

His tall frame was hunched over a little table just inside the glass, clearly absorbed in the stack of papers covering the keyboard of his open Macbook. Chase had the same dark chocolate hair as the rest of the family, and she was still surprised to see it so uncharacteristically under control. Three weeks earlier, he had been sporting Wranglers and boots as the new state rodeo champion, so the transformation to classic khaki-wearing Capitol Hill intern was remarkable. The dark stitched leather of his favorite Tony Lamas crossed under the table was the only remaining hint of regular life back in Wyoming.

Chase glanced up at the door as it swung open with a rush of hot air.

“Hey, you finally made it!”

“Yeah, sorry. Had to jump in the shower after that walk from the Metro. Can you believe this humidity?”

“Makes you miss the mountain air back home, that’s for sure.” Chase pulled his navy blazer off the neighboring chair and laid it across his lap. “How was your day?”

“Oh, you know, just hanging out with the POTUS and shaping world history, as usual. Let me get a drink, though. What do you have?”

“Just the house blend. I would have gone for something cold, but Mr. Hipster behind the counter let me know that Peregrine doesn’t ruin coffee like that. Hmpf.”

Anna looked around the room as she waited for her turn to order. People watching was one of her favorite parts of any coffee shop experience, and Peregrine Espresso never disappointed. Behind the counter, three of the rotating crew of pierced and skinny-jeaned baristas fussed over hand-poured coffee. The hipster look hadn’t been taken up with quite as much vigor yet back home, and Anna was intrigued. In fact, just yesterday she e-mailed her mom to ask about sending some of her old t-shirts. The agricultural and Wild West themes she grew up with would be perfect. Of course, no one needed to know that they had originally been designed and proudly worn without a hint of irony.

A couple of staffer-types like Chase stood in line ahead of her, engaged in a hushed but easily eavesdropped discussion about their well-meaning older congressman’s latest social media blunder. At the bar, a bearded thirty-something juggled his espresso with a couple of yogurts, somehow managing to get the snacks into twin toddlers’ hands without spilling a drop. The golden retriever and monstrous stroller parked outside must have been theirs. Stay-at-home dad, or just back from work early? She had noticed a few like him chatting away together as she jogged through Lincoln Park last week. Quickly caught up in a highly realistic daydream featuring Anna McBride as the powerful career woman supported by a similarly domestic hunk, she tripped over a beagle and landed in a heap on the concrete. Whoops.

“So what’s the inside scoop on this storm?” Chase asked, closing the computer. “I’m sure you guys must have access to all sorts of top-secret meteorological data, right?”

“Don’t know about that, but I guess NOAA does keep us in the loop pretty well. Everyone thinks it’ll be a bad one, even though it’s still early for hurricane season.”

“Right, thanks for that detailed analysis.” Chase gave her an exasperated look. “I was just looking at the satellite images online, and it’s still building strength and picking up speed over the water.”

He’d always been a bit of a weather geek, and Anna couldn’t hide the amused smirk as she watched his enthusiasm build.

“It’s already done some serious damage in the Bahamas, but this landfall on the Florida coast is taking longer than everyone expected.”

“Mmhmm, I have no doubt you will keep me fully updated.” Anna’s eyes lit up with indignation as she remembered her big disappointment. “The worst part about it is that we had to cancel the president’s speech on conflict minerals! Of course, we could have done it after all, seeing as the storm hasn’t even hit the U.S. yet.”

“Oh sorry, sis. I know you were excited about that. You had me kind of interested, too, especially with Cole right in the middle of things over there.”

“Not exactly in the center of it, as long as he stays put in Rwanda. But yes, still right in his neighborhood.”

Chase gave her a questioning look.

“Haven’t you checked your e-mail? He was in the DRC today, trying to find the Virunga gorillas.”

“No, I came straight over here, and you know I can’t check Gmail at work.” Anna was worried now. Her research over the weekend for the day’s canceled event had made her realize just how unstable the area around Virunga National Park really was. “What else did he say? Dang it, yet another reason I need a data plan on this stupid old phone!”

“That was pretty much it, unfortunately. Just a typical two-liner.”

Anna pulled the laptop over and opened it up, scanning through her brother’s inbox until she found what she was looking for.

“They’re back in Rwanda now,” he said. “So it’s too late to do much worrying.”

He was right. There wasn’t much more to the brief note from Cole. But Anna also knew he had a tendency to hide things that might worry their parents.

“Why does he keep mentioning this South African pilot girl?” Her tone betrayed a playful disapproval. “You don’t think he likes her, do you?”

Chase raised a hand to his chin as his face took on an exaggerated expression of contemplation.

“Let me think about that for a minute.” A sly smile broke through the mask. “Umm, yes. What’s not to like about a helicopter-flying tall blond with an exotic accent?”

“Ugh, you guys are all the same!” Anna reached across the table to lightly slap her brother’s arm. “What’s wrong with us plain ol’ American brunettes?”

“You know I love you, Anna.” His smile had broken into a full grin. “But I’m going to ask Cole if that Marna chick has a younger sister.”

Marna Van Wyk was as African as any white woman could claim to be. Her mother traced a direct descent from Jan van Riebeeck, founder of Cape Town and considered by most Afrikaners to be the father of their country. Way back in 1652, Van Riebeeck commanded the Dutch East India Company’s expedition to establish the first European settlement on the rugged coastline of the Cape of Good Hope. Her dad’s history was a little more ambiguous, but she did know that one great-grandfather was alone among his parents’ eight children to survive confinement in a British concentration camp during the Second Boer War.