"We should go."
"You're right. Angie's probably waiting."
Neither of them moved.
"If we get caught in here, you'll lose your job."
He held her tighter. "I don't care." They both smiled, then turned their heads at the sound of voices in the corridor. Reluctantly, they let go and moved apart.
Aaron listened at the door for a moment, confirming that the hall was empty of traffic. He nodded to Martha, opened the door and stood aside. No one saw them slip out of the room; they walked silently back up the hall and joined Angie. Not wanting to leave without a word, he took her hand and lingered in the doorway for a moment: "Now that the funeral's over, things are starting to get busy again. You may not see much of me the next few days."
Martha nodded. "I'll call you and let you know what's going on as far as the move. Thanks for coming with us today, Aaron." She squeezed his hand; he smiled at her and turned away. A moment later, Angie brushed past Martha with a brief apology: "Sorry, ma'am, I've got to talk to Aaron for a second." She caught up to him, handed him a tissue and muttered, "Get that lipstick off quick."
The next few days were given over to planning the move. Having signed the lease, Martha was eager to leave the White House as soon as possible. After briefly considering the possibility of shipping some of her furniture from California, she shelved the idea and went shopping with Angie instead. On a whim, she called Jane Hughes and invited her along; the trip was a success in every respect. With her military background, Angie was able to recommend a furnishings warehouse ("It doesn't have to look like Ikea, ma'am") that was much less expensive than Martha had anticipated, and Jane turned out to have a talent for decoration. On inspecting the apartment, she announced, "Bring all your tchotchkes, Martha, we're going to accessorize the hell out of this place."
"Good. I don't want it to look like a temporary bachelor pad if I can help it."
"Don't worry, it won't."
Angie's packing system was meticulous: She kept careful count of the number of boxes that were packed, organized them by content and labeled them with an identifying symbol to make sure there was no mix-up. "Once when I moved," she explained, "I wound up with a whole bunch of stuff the moving company sent me by mistake. I opened the first box and found a leather collar and chains. It turned out to belong to a guy who was into domination."
Martha started to laugh. "Was he embarrassed?"
"No, mostly annoyed. He wanted to make sure I hadn't damaged or stolen any of his stuff." Angie rolled her eyes. "It took three weeks to get it all straightened out."
On her last night at the White House Martha had dinner with Hal and Beth Gardner. The evening was successful, as the impending move had put Beth in a good mood; she was eager to share some of her plans as First Lady, and Martha was more than happy to listen. After dinner they moved from the dining room for coffee; in response to a look from her husband, Beth excused herself after about fifteen minutes.
"Martha, I wanted a chance to talk to you before you leave. Is everything going all right?"
"Everything's fine, Hal. I realize this may sound strange, but I'm feeling better than I have in a long time. I don't think I was ever cut out to be First Lady, to be honest. It's a relief to know I won't have to do this any more."
"I understand you're the one who persuaded Charles to resign. I really appreciate your help. How is he doing?"
"Okay, I guess, considering. He's depressed about the divorce, but I made it clear that I wasn't going to stay with him. After everything that's come out, I simply couldn't. From what I've heard, he's become more resigned about the plea bargain issue and he's not going to fight that, either. I met his attorney, Joshua Tenney, and he seems capable. I liked him better than I thought I would, actually."
Hal nodded. "If Charles doesn't fight the charges that will be a big relief. With his cooperation, we can put this behind us and try to move on."
Martha thought this sounded absurdly optimistic; on the other hand, what else could she have expected Hal to say? Again she was forced to realize what a horrible position Charles had left him in. She tried to carry on the conversation in the same vein. "I told him I thought it would be the best thing for the country, and I think that helped change his mind."
The President smiled. "So you've helped us yet again. At this rate you'll be a candidate for the Medal of Honor any day now." After a moment he added, "I'll be honest, Martha, I wanted to talk to you tonight because I need a favor. I hate to ask this of you after everything you've done already, but I can't see any other way." He assumed his most charming attitude. "As you can imagine, our relations with Russia are not that great right now. I'm trying to rebuild our bridges, but it isn't going that well. In fact, I've been trying to schedule a trip to meet with the Suvarovs, but they didn't seem that interested until I took the liberty of dropping your name."
Martha suddenly realized where the conversation was going. "Hal…"
"The truth is, Martha, they're dying to see you."
"Why?"
"Russia's intelligence network is still one of the best in the world. We think they've figured out pretty much everything that happened the day of the terrorist attack, including the fact that you tried to stop it by joining the motorcade. That really resonated with them culturally. It's the sort of thing Anna Karenina would have done, or something. Very fatalistic." He waved his hand vaguely. "To be honest, I don't think I'll have any chance of communicating with them without you."
Martha took this in for a moment, mentally reviewing what little international news she'd heard in the past few days. The Suvarovs had refused to attend David Palmer's funeral, she now recalled. She had to admit that the idea of Russia knowing what Charles had done was appalling. She looked back at the President. "Are things that bad, Hal?"
He looked grim. "Yes, they are that bad. It wouldn't be exaggerating to say we've lost all the ground we've made in cooperation since the Cold War. Charles was willing to hand their president over to terrorists to pay for his mistakes, and they know it. At this point they have no use for us whatever, and I don't blame them."
Aaron isn't going to like this, Martha thought, but she saw no alternative other than to agree. "If you think there's something I can do to help, I'm willing to try."
"That would be wonderful. I don't have a definite date scheduled yet for the trip, but I'll let you know as soon as we do." He paused, then added, "I'll explain to Beth that it's very important that you come with us. She'll understand."
No she won't. Martha knew what Hal was trying to tell her, however. She said what she was expected to say: "I'll be happy to work with her. I think Mrs. Suvarov will like her very much." She sensed that their meeting had come to an end, but suddenly she leaned forward. "May I say just one thing, Hal? About being President?"
He looked surprised, but said, "Yes, of course, Martha."
"Just be yourself. Just do the best you can. It doesn't sound like much, but David Palmer was a good friend of mine and I can tell you that when he was elected, he didn't have a list of directions telling him how to be a great President. You know the crises he had to face during his time in office. He dealt with them because he had enough faith in himself to do the best job he could and to trust his judgment, and that's exactly what Charles was afraid to do. We don't have to go into this in detail, but we both know he never trusted himself. That's why he did what he did. It seemed like such an easy answer to all his problems." Martha grabbed her napkin to wipe away the tears that had started to form. "If only he'd listened to me. I wanted to help…" she stopped.
Hal Gardner was looking at her with more respect than she'd ever seen from him. She thought how odd it was that their old antagonistic relationship seemed to have dissolved in the last few days. "Martha, thank you. I mean it. Things are bad right now, I don't deny it, but if it weren't for you they'd be ten times worse." He stood and took her hand. "Thanks for your advice. I promise you I'll remember it. I feel like I never really knew you before this week," he added as they moved toward the door. "Charles made the biggest mistake of his life when he stopped listening to you."
The next morning Martha and Angie headed for the apartment and started directing the movers. The furniture had been delivered the day before; after getting it placed, they attacked the boxes that had been stacked on every available surface. At Angie's suggestion, they started with the bathroom and kitchen items: "It'll make things easier for you tonight if we get this unpacked first."
"I'm so glad you're here, Angie. I really appreciate your help with this." For the hundredth time Martha mentally thanked Aaron for recommending his old friend.
"I've had some practice. Military personnel actually get handouts on how to move, we do it a lot."
"Well, hopefully you'll never have to do this again, now that you've retired."
"That's exactly why I did. After General Mason retired, I knew there was a high probability I'd be transferred again and I didn't want that. We'd just bought a house the year before."
"We?"
Angie hesitated. "My partner and I. Her name's Marie. We've been together fourteen years. Aaron didn't tell you?"
"No, he didn't, but he probably wanted to give you a chance to tell me yourself." Martha opened another box. "What does Marie do?"
"She works at the Smithsonian. She's an archivist."
"I think I understand now why you left that small town you were telling me about."
"That's right. It wasn't all bad, I have good memories too, but it definitely isn't the best place to figure out that you're gay." Angie had relaxed a bit, but then frowned and muttered, "What's this?" She walked quickly across the room to stare at a box Martha had uncovered. "Mrs. Logan, where did you find this box?"
"It was with all the other ones on the table. Why?"
"Don't touch it. Give me a minute, I need to check something." Angie walked quickly through the apartment, counting under her breath. "There were forty-seven boxes in your shipment. There's forty-eight here now. That's an extra box." She went back to stare at it. "It's differently sized from the others. It's got your name and address on it but there's no postage. Did you open it?"
"No, I didn't touch it, all I did was move the box next to it." Martha's puzzlement was turning to concern. "What should we do?"
"I'm calling Aaron."
"What about the police?"
"I'll call them next, but if I don't call Aaron first, he's going to be really upset with both of us." They traded glances, and Martha nodded.
"It's Angie. We have a problem here, Aaron…" the conversation was terse and took only about two minutes. Angie hung up and turned to Martha. "He wants us to get out of the apartment now. He's calling the bomb squad."
Martha knew better than to protest. On their way downstairs Angie called the apartment manager, who instituted evacuation procedures throughout the building. As they reached the sidewalk, the first of several police cars was pulling up to the curb; in a matter of moments the street was iridescent with flashing red lights. Angie and Martha quickly described the box, its location and dimensions, and a team of officers disappeared into the building.
"If this turns out to be nothing, I'm going to be really embarrassed," Martha muttered, shaking her head.
"Better embarrassed than blown up. And there's no explanation for how it got here. As soon as they let us back into the building I'm going to talk to the supervisor."
Within half an hour the box had been removed for examination and the tenants were allowed to return inside. Angie headed straight for the supervisor's office: "I'm Colonel Angie Johnston and I work with Mrs. Logan. I need to ask you some questions about that box. Did anyone deliver it to your mailroom? Did anyone have access to the apartment other than the delivery personnel?" From the supervisor she moved on to question the mailroom and janitorial staff, but to no avail. No one admitted to having seen the box.
"I was here yesterday when the furniture was delivered, Mrs. Logan, and I know it wasn't here then." Angie looked thoughtful. "I'm going to call the movers, maybe they'll remember it." Martha continued to unpack while Angie conducted a lively discussion with the moving company and the driver of the van. Fifteen minutes later she shrugged and returned to helping Martha unpack. "One guy thinks he may have seen it but he isn't sure. Either nobody knows how it got here or they aren't saying."
They had just finished a quick lunch break when a police officer returned with the box under his arm. "Here you are, Mrs. Logan. We checked everything out and it's not dangerous at all, it just contained a gift and a note." Under his quizzical look, Martha felt embarrassed. Angie intervened. "I checked with the movers and the entire staff of this building and nobody knows how that box got here. It didn't come through the mailroom and it wasn't here yesterday."
The officer pursed his lips and shrugged. "Well, it doesn't look dangerous and there was nothing threatening about the note. Maybe you'll recognize who sent it when you look at it."
Martha deflected further debate by opening the box. Inside was a crystal bowl with a folded note enclosed. "We checked for prints," the officer added, "but didn't find any." The note read:
Congratulations on your move. With hopes for a long and happy future.
"Laser printer," commented Angie, reading over Martha's shoulder. "That's no help."
"So you don't know who it's from?"
"No idea. Thank you for taking the time to bring it back," Martha added with her best smile, "and thanks for your help today."
As the door closed, Martha and Angie looked at each other:
"What do you think this means? It's just a knick-knack."
"I don't know. It's harmless in itself, but I think maybe the intent was to send you a message."
"A message…"
"'We know where you live.'"
Martha shivered. "Well, let's assume you're right. How could they have found out?"
"The realtor, the landlord… but I'd say that was unlikely. You picked this place for privacy and security, and that's what their reputation's built on. It wouldn't serve them to spill the news of your whereabouts to anyone. Bad for business."
"Oh, my God. Wait a minute." As Angie looked at her questioningly: "It's Charles' lawyers. When I talked to Counselor Tenney, I warned him if anything happened to Charles I'd start asking questions. That has to be it."
"What did he say? Did he make any threats?"
"No, actually he didn't. He knew what I was talking about, all right, but he said Charles was in no danger from him. He seemed frustrated; he told me that Charles was so suspicious that it had made working with him very difficult. The truth is, I liked him better than I thought I would."
Angie shrugged. "Maybe he's meaner than he lets on. From what I understand, he's known for defending hard cases. Do you want to call Ms. Margate and let her know about this? She might be able to help."
Martha agreed. While she was leaving a message with Susan's receptionist, the desk downstairs buzzed; Angie answered it and whispered, "Agent Pierce is on his way up." Martha asked the secretary to have Susan call her as soon as possible and headed for the foyer.
Aaron stepped inside and lost no time in giving Martha a warm embrace. "Are you all right?" He stepped back and looked at her, concerned.
"I'm fine, but I'm really glad you're here." She hugged him again.
"Your Secret Service coverage starts tonight. Get used to it."
"Yes, sir, Agent Pierce." She gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I'll do whatever they say, especially if they're Mitchell and Williams."
"I picked the tougher guys to start with," he replied, grinning. "They'll need all the resistance they've got." He reciprocated her kiss. "Show me around?"
Aaron was impressed with the appearance of the apartment. "It looks a lot better with the furniture in," he admitted. He then gave the box and its contents careful inspection, leaned back and looked across the kitchen table at Angie and Martha. "Tell me what happened." He listened without interrupting as they recounted the day's events and the results of Angie's questioning of the movers and staff, then reread the note. "I think this probably is a warning. Subtle, but it's there if you're looking for it." He frowned. "Any ideas on how it got here?"
The two women looked at each other. "Well… yes," Martha answered, feeling slightly panicky. Trying not to focus on Aaron's steadily darkening expression, she explained her conversation with Tenney the day of her visit with Charles, finishing with her phone call to Susan Margate. "I see," was his only comment.
An uneasy silence fell over the three of them. Finally Martha sighed. "You're upset with me, aren't you?"
"Of course not," he lied, prompted by a glare from Angie. "I'm concerned. Your safety is top priority, and drawing attention to yourself – in any way – is probably not a good idea right now. I understand why you said what you did, but please, Martha, don't do it again." His diplomacy was rewarded by looks of pure relief from Martha and approval from Angie. "Will you let me know when you hear back from your attorney?"
"Of course. Are you leaving?"
"Got to get back to the White House. This was just a quick run over to check on you. Keep unpacking, and I'll stay in touch." He put his arm around her and gave her a quick hug. "I'm taking Angie down with me to talk to the supervisor."
Standing by the elevator, Aaron stared at Angie for a minute, then shook his head. "What the hell was she thinking?"
"She wanted to make sure he didn't get knocked off by his pals. Obviously. Apparently Logan thinks everyone is out to get him. Whether that's true or not I don't know, but what he said was enough to concern her."
"I don't know why she bothers."
"You're going to have to get past this, Aaron. I know it won't be easy, but if the two of you are going to be together, you have to accept that she still feels some responsibility for him. I'm sure she's not in love with him; she's getting the divorce, she's moving on." As they stepped into the elevator, she added, "Look at it this way. What's easier for Logan, a quick death or doing prison time?"
"You have a point. Actually, I said something of the sort to her the other day when we found out he wasn't going to trial. She was the one who was upset then, more than me."
"Well, there you go." They'd arrived at the lobby; he gestured her off to one side, away from the doorman. "You didn't really want to talk to the supervisor, did you."
"I wanted a chance to talk to you away from her." He hesitated. "What you said just now…" she looked at him questioningly. "Do you really think I'd have a chance of making this work with her?"
"I don't see why not, if the two of you care about each other. And I'm sure that you do. I'd have to be blind not to see that."
"I'm way out of her league, Angie."
"She doesn't seem to feel that way."
"There's going to be Service agents with her all the time. Any time I spend with her is going to get noticed."
Angie shrugged. "That's not a crime. As long as you're not in charge of her detail, I don't see any professional conflict. You're allowed to have a personal life, and so is she." She gave him a direct look. "A lot of this you need to be discussing with her, not me. But I'll tell you this. Admitting I was gay was the hardest thing I ever did. Breaking up with your brother and joining the Army was really scary, but it was the right thing to do. This is your life, Aaron. You need to get it the way you want it, because you'll never have another chance. You're lucky to even be alive. The next time you start worrying about what people are going to think, remember that. What other people think doesn't matter."
He nodded. "Thanks, Angie. I don't want to screw this up, I really don't."
She smiled slightly. "Well, then, my last piece of advice to you is to take that ring off and put some thought into this. You've got time, divorces don't happen overnight. You both need to figure out what you want." She started to head for the elevator, but stopped. "Oh, by the way, I told her about Marie today."
"Any problems?"
"It didn't throw her at all. You know, I think Marie would really like her. Maybe one of these days I'll get the chance to introduce her."
"She'd like that, and I know she'd like Marie. Thanks again, Angie. The agents should be showing up in about an hour." Angie waved understanding and hurried for the elevator.
Martha continued to sit at the kitchen table, thinking. Finally, with a look of determination, she picked up the bowl and placed it carefully in the center of the mantel. When Angie returned, she took her to the living room and pointed to it. "I want to put this where it'll be the first thing people see. What do you think?"
"It's a focal point, all right. But why?"
"They want to send me a message, I'll send them one right back. I'm not afraid of you."
Angie looked at her and smiled. "I like it, Mrs. Logan."
