Day 8
ELIZABETH McCord waited patiently. She did not look at Khalifa Hafouri but rather out the window. Croatia was shockingly beautiful and she had every intention of returning with her family some day. Or perhaps, she would bring Henry here for their thirtieth anniversary - she could easily imagine them renting a small villa on the seashore.
"These stipulations are acceptable." He said at last.
"Wonderful! I look forward to tomorrow then. The United States is pleased that the TAK and the government of Turkey are so willing to meet together. Tomorrow will be an auspicious day."
"Indeed." He agreed, rising and shaking her hand. "Until then." He gave a curt nod and exited the room.
"Well, now that we've agreed on the seating arrangement," Elizabeth said to Nadine with a grin. "We can consider more important matters."
"The lunch menu?" Nadine asked.
"No." Blake said as he gathered up papers. "Nothing that substantial just yet -napkin preferences are next."
He froze as soon as the words had left his mouth. He looked up, recognizing that the room was silent. "Oh, I, uh, pardon me, Madam Secretary."
But Elizabeth McCord only laughed and turning to Nadine said, "He's getting snarkier by the day."
"Your influence is powerful." Nadine grinned at her boss. "He railed against kale at dinner last night. It is as if he is your secret son."
"Oh, well, he was most definitely sired by aliens." Elizabeth winked at Blake.
"Shh!" Blake whispered dramatically. "It's a family secret."
They all laughed and then Elizabeth glanced at the clock on the wall. "Do we have anything just now?" She asked.
"No, ma'am. Although you did tell Jay you wanted to have a strategy meeting before tomorrow."
"Yes, let's meet back at my suite at eight. That should give everyone a chance to get some dinner and maybe take a power nap."
They exited the conference room and as they crossed out into the fading light, they were surrounded by security and a small group of press. There were two SUVs but they all climbed into the same one.
"This place is really beautiful." Blake remarked as they drove along the shoreline.
"It is." Elizabeth agreed, but even as she spoke everyone turned to the phones in their hands.
"Well, that can't be good." She said, reaching for her phone in her pocket.
"Protestors in Hungary?" Nadine said looking up from her phone. "Americans?"
"Teenagers on a vacation is what I've got." Elizabeth said. "Blake?"
"The same. Three teenagers - two brothers, and their cousin, a girl. They were musicians, or something. They were playing a concert when they were overrun by a group."
"We need to know who they are, and why they decided to drag three American kids off with them." Elizabeth leaned back in her seat. "I was really hoping this trip would be easy."
Blake glanced over at Nadine, who paused from her frantic typing on her phone to raise an eyebrow at him. "Blake, since if we can get in touch with Ambassador Bell." She said.
"Kathleen Bell?" Elizabeth McCord exploded. "You've got to be kidding me! We better find out who has these kids, and who Ambassador's Bell's assistant is and quick, or this could get very bad very fast." She turned her gaze to the windows wishing that she were just a simple vacationer watching as her children played in the bright blue waters.
***MS***
"Explain it, please." Blake said as he shifted from his left to right foot. "And don't gloat that I'm out of the loop. I just need information."
"I'm sorry." Matt said with a smile. "It is just such a unique situation. I can't help but . . ."
"You are the reason we are in this mess." Blake interrupted, a long finger pointed at Matt's chest.
"I am not! It is Jobbik or Atka or possible some smaller unaffiliated nationalist party." Matt countered. "Look, all right, you are right. I never should have said anything about this being a smooth trip! But come on! No one could have predicted this!"
"Fine." Blake sighed. He glanced around the empty hallway just outside of the suite occupied by Secretary McCord. "But I need information before I go in there. She had a pretty strong reaction to Ambassador Bell's name, and I need to know why."
"It's no secret. You could google her name." Matt began, but then distracted by his own thought process, continued, "Why didn't you google it? You are generally very thorough and capable. That's kind of strange and . . ."
"Matt! Come on! Information."
"Kathleen Bell has no business being an ambassador. She was a beauty pageant contestant for the bulk of her young adult life, and then she married. Technically she is vice president of her husband's business, but it's just a title in name only. She doesn't work. But she was appointed by Bush to be ambassador to Hungary." Matt chuckled softly. "Rumor has it, that someone had to show her Hungary on a map after she was appointed. Of course, another rumor is that her husband was having a torrid affair with a supermodel and wanted her out of the country, so . . ."
"But why would she be appointed an ambassador?"
"Oh, her husband is Andrew Bell." Matt said.
"Okay." Blake said, clearly not recognizing the name.
"Bell Industries?" Matt asked, but Blake only shook his head. "You ever rented a UHaul?"
"No, but I get it. So how does that qualify her for an ambassadorship?"
"It doesn't, but her husband sunk a chunk of change into a couple of presidential campaigns and suddenly, she is our best choice to represent America."
"So, what you are saying is a former beauty queen is who is going to figure out a way to rescue three American teenagers?"
"That's exactly what he's saying." Elizabeth McCord stood just down the hall, in the open doorway of her suite, one hand on her hip, and glasses perched on the end of her nose."
"Madam Secretary," Blake began. "I'm sorry we were just . . ."
"I was just reviewing some background information with Blake and . . ."
"You were bringing him up to speed." She said with a wry grin. "Blake, you could ask me, you know. I don't expect you to know absolutely everything. And it isn't as if Hungary's been on the forefront lately."
"No, ma'am, but it seems like something I should have already known." He said as both he and Matt followed her into the room, where her staff was assembled.
"Oh, I agree." She told him, sitting down, at the desk that was situated along one wall. Nadine, Daisy and Jay were sitting on two couches that were just across from the desk. "But I suppose you are allowed one mistake."
"That's very generous of you, ma'am." Blake stood at the edge of her desk.
"So," She said, looking up at her staff. "We are in the middle of some tough negotiations, and we've got three teenagers held hostage by an anti-immigration militant group, and Blake, here is slightly flawed - anyone got any ideas how we are going to manage all this?"
"Well, generally, we wait until you figure it out." Jay offered with a grin.
"That seems like a pretty inefficient system." Elizabeth said with a laugh.
"It beats relying on the former Miss Industrial Engineering." Blake said holding up his ipad, revealing a picture of Kathleen Bell sporting a bathing suit with a sash declaring her Miss Industrial Engineering of the Northwest.
***MS***
"You didn't tell me she had a solo." Henry said into the phone.
"She wanted to surprise you."
"Well, she was amazing. I'd like to tell you I got it on video, but I was so shocked that I never even got my phone out."
"That's alright, I heard her at rehearsal." Elizabeth said.
"You sound pretty tired."
"Well, I think it's 3 a.m." She sighed.
"Oh, good Lord! I'm hanging up. You need sleep."
"No, I can't unwind. My mind is going in about thirty directions."
"More like three thousand." Henry said with a laugh. "You could take a long relaxing bath."
"Henry . . ." She groaned.
"No, come on. I know how you love a good bath." He was laughing.
She hated baths. She remembered when the realtor had shown them the house in Georgetown - she'd been quick to show them the "most amazing tub" in the master bath. Henry, of course, couldn't stop singing the praises of the tub, winking at Elizabeth the whole time. It wasn't just that the idea of sitting still long enough to take a bath made her skin crawl, but she couldn't manage the very idea of a bath - she found the idea repulsive.
"Stop." She told her husband. "You should see the tub in this room, though - it's like a small swimming pool."
"Why doesn't a swimming pool bother you?" Henry asked her.
"It's got a filtration system, but honestly, you know me, I prefer the ocean."
"Oh, remember when we were in Long Beach?"
"Oh! That was fantastic! We never left the beach!"
"You never left the water!" He said laughing. "We should go back."
"How about tomorrow?" She said wistfully.
"I'm free." He waited for a response but hearing nothing, he continued, "You doing okay, Babe?"
"I'm fine."
"You really should go to sleep. You can call me tomorrow - whenever it is your tomorrow - don't worry about the time difference. I'll answer."
"I'm having a tough time sleeping. I don't know why. God, knows I'm exhausted."
"You are just overtired and don't have me to distract. I know how to put you to sleep."
She could hear his grin through the phone line, and couldn't stop herself from smiling or from imaging just what he was implying.
"Henry . . ."
"Okay, baby, I'll tell you what. I've got a lecture tomorrow on the impact of moral identity on warfare. You just lay back, close your eyes, and let me practice on you."
"Oh, but you are such a good teacher, Henry. I'll never fall asleep."
"You are the worst kiss-ass." He told her. "Listen to me, and you'll be asleep in three minutes."
She laughed, but even as he launched into his lecture, she felt herself relax; his voice warm, familiar and comforting. She was asleep before he even introduced his first point.