Vince hunched his shoulders as though to render himself invisible. I thanked Curly and headed back to the storage area, wondering if I’d ever get anyone to give me a straight answer to the floating neutral question.
FOUR HOURS LATER, AFTER HAVING DECORATED the kitchen to best of my holiday abilities given the collection of cute pot holders, trivets, and dish towels I’d pulled out, I headed back to the storage area to put the empty boxes away and to return Curly’s precious dolly.
I wheeled it into the storeroom and had intended to replace the first box in its nook, when I realized that the china storage containers were not the way I’d left them. The Johnson china was pushed far to the right, completely out of place. That was odd. No one usually used this storage room except kitchen staff, and I couldn’t recall anyone else mentioning a visit here in the past few hours.
Curious, I tugged the big gray bin, wondering what else might have been rearranged. Most of the time it wouldn’t matter, but on the rare occasion we needed supplies from this area, I liked to be confident they were here. The idea that items had been shifted peeved me just a bit. Storage space was at a premium at the White House, and this area was designated for kitchen items only. Another department must have tried to encroach on our space, hoping no one would notice a stray item or two.
I pushed the wheeled bin of Johnson china out of the way and found an unfamiliar square brown box, crudely marked STORAGE on one side and along the sealed top. This did not belong to the kitchen. Worse, it hadn’t been here this morning. Someone had snuck it in here, very recently.
I did a quick, cursory examination of the room to locate any other stray boxes, but within a few minutes I realized this was the only unexpected addition to our stash.
There were no other markings on the box, and no way to tell which department had tucked it in here. I sighed with exasperation. I could just leave it here-it didn’t take up an enormous amount of space-but doing so invited further incursions. Although this seemed like a trivial matter, and unworthy of the analysis I was affording it, I still suffered from the newness of my executive chef position. Sure, I’d earned the title, but I also needed to command respect. Were Henry here, I imagined he would nip this little nuisance in the bud.
I lifted the box onto the gray bin. I didn’t have a knife to slice open the seal, but the dolly had metal clasps that Curly had used to readjust the handle. I pulled one of the silver clips from its anchoring hole, and pushed the metal end against the paper, ripping it. Within seconds I’d scored both ends and the center seam. I dropped the clip into my pocket and repositioned the box on the floor for leverage before attempting to open the flaps.
Whoever had sealed this thing had done a masterful job. I yanked three times before the first flap ripped free. The second flap snapped up with a quick pull and I pulled away excelsior to find out what was so important that had to be stored in my department’s area.
More excelsior.
Finally, my fingers hit something hard. Metal or glass, I couldn’t tell. I was on my knees, wrapping my fingers around the item’s cylindrical shape, tugging upward. Stuck. Stray stuffing obscured my view of the article, but my fingers traced along its sides. Bottle-shaped, it seemed light enough, but as I pulled more shredded paper from around it with my left hand, my right discovered that both ends of the bottle were connected by wire to a flat board at the box’s bottom.
I yanked my hand away. Heart racing, I felt my jaw go limp. I removed the remaining packaging material and stifled a scream of surprise when I saw the explosives.
This was an IED.
“Help,” I said too softly, too weakly. I stood, calling out again, knowing no one would hear me. I ran out the door, intent on getting in touch with the Secret Service. But… I couldn’t just run away. There were others in this area-in the carpenter’s area, the florist’s office, the laundry. I couldn’t let innocent people there wait until something exploded.
I ran to the laundry room. “Get out,” I screamed. “Hurry! A bomb. A bomb!”
I heard movement, and one of the laundry ladies came around the corner, looking confused.
“Get everybody out,” I said, already running toward the florist’s area. “Get out now, and get help!”
After warning as many people as I could, I ran into the nearest work area-the electrical shop. No one there.
Their phone was near the workbench. I picked it up and connected with the emergency operator. She told me to leave immediately and that help was on the way. I ran.
More than a dozen people were making their way quickly to the Center Hall, heading into the Diplomatic Reception Room, where they could evacuate via the south doors.
I skidded around the corner and rushed to the kitchen. My team stared up at me with wide eyes. “Everybody out,” I said.
Bucky started to say something.
I waved them forward, toward me and the door. “Now.”
They took one look at my face and filed out. Mentally, I tallied them, making sure that everyone was accounted for.
Secret Service agents moved in fast. Before I could even think about what to do next, they’d covered every inch of the White House, urging people out the doors, barking orders, and taking firm control.
By the time I made it outside myself, I estimated we’d evacuated the residence in under three minutes. Not bad for a staff of more than ninety. I stared at the building, waiting. Wondering what would happen next.
I made my way over to my group. Bucky was talking with Rafe and Agda, and Cyan was listening in. They shifted their small circle to let me in.
“It’s freezing out here,” Cyan said, hugging herself. “I hope we don’t get stuck outside for very long. What happened?”
I rubbed my own arms but as I tried to explain, the wind whipped my words away. I had to raise my voice as I repeated myself.
“You found a bomb?” Cyan said, with incredulity in her voice. “Are you sure?”
I opened my mouth to answer, realizing I wasn’t sure at all. Maybe I’d overreacted. “It was…” My words faltered. I turned, taking a look at my colleagues-the rest of the White House staff-all of us huddled in small groups against the bitter chill. We were all out here, freezing, rather than inside doing our work. Just because I’d sounded an alarm.
“I think it was a bomb,” I said finally.
“You think?” Bucky said. “You don’t know?”
My stomach dropped. With the benefit of hindsight, I realized I didn’t really know what a bomb looked like. Just because this one had some of the same features as the one Gavin had shown us didn’t mean that it posed any real threat.
Bucky wasn’t happy. Breath-clouds poured out of his mouth as he asked, “Was it ticking?”
“No.”
He exhaled sharply and walked over to join another group.
Maybe I should have simply called the Secret Service and let them handle it. Maybe if I’d done that, we’d all still be safely inside, and warm. The small groups of staffers snuck glances in my direction. I was sure they were discussing my “sky is falling” cries. The group around me chatted, keeping an eye on the activity just outside the south doors where a team of helmeted, black-cad individuals ran in.
“Bomb team,” Rafe said.
We all nodded, silent now. Far enough away to feel safe, we could see the action but there was no way to make out faces from this distance. Secret Service personnel were maintaining a perimeter a distance away from the south doors, but I couldn’t see who was on duty. I didn’t expect any of them to be Tom, though; As part of the elite Presidential Protection Detail, he would be with President Campbell, wherever that may be.
Bucky wandered back with a swagger. “It’s a fake.”
“What?” we all asked at once.
Clearly pleased to be the source of insider information, Bucky took his time answering. “I was talking to Angela,” he said. “She got a call from her brother, who has a friend on the bomb squad.”