He continued. My stomach dropped.
“Nothing there. The thing Ollie found was probably just some junk. Not a bomb.”
He kept talking about what a mess this was, and what a hassle we were all dealing with because of my too-quick-on-the-trigger response.
Feeling my face grow hot, I was about to argue that it’s better to be safe than sorry, when Gavin stepped into our little group. Despite the bracing wind, he looked unruffled, though not pleased.
“Ms. Paras,” he said. “Come with me.”
Cyan gave me a pitying look.
“Is there some way we can get the staff inside?” I asked.
Gavin kept looking straight ahead. “It is being taken care of.”
“What will they-”
“Ms. Paras, the comfort of your colleagues is not my immediate concern, but if it eases your mind, buses have been dispatched to pick everyone up and to keep them together.”
I remembered how much time that took when I was sequestered with Mrs. Campbell and Sean in the bunker. I remembered Bucky’s complaints. Had that been only a couple of days ago? So much had happened since then.
As we walked, I relived my adventure in the bunker and thought about Sean. My heart gave a little wobble. What had happened there? And how could I be missing someone I hadn’t really known all that well?
A moment later it dawned on me that we weren’t walking back to the White House. Gavin was leading me away, toward an idling black car. A Secret Service agent I didn’t recognize opened the back door for me.
This was like something out of a spy movie.
“What-?”
“Just get in,” Gavin said.
The car’s warmth and smell of new leather helped lessen the goose bumps I bore from the cold. The ones from fear were still popping, mightily. “What’s going on?” I asked when he sidled in beside me.
There was a driver and another man in the front seat. They both turned.
Gavin spoke, his enunciation so crisp, new goose bumps zoomed up the back of my arms and traipsed across my shoulders. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
I did. They recorded my description of finding the box and opening it.
“Why didn’t you call security the moment you saw the box?” Gavin asked.
I looked at him as though he was nuts. “It was a brown box in a storage room,” I said with a little sharpness to my tone. “And it was marked for storage. Why would I ever be suspicious of something like that?”
The three men exchanged looks. I felt like the new kid at school, missing all the inside jokes because I wasn’t considered “cool” yet.
“I already heard that I blew it,” I said. “So why am I being questioned?”
Gavin gave me a puzzled look, but he answered. “In due course, Ms. Paras. Right now we need to go over your story again.”
I sighed. “Okay.” Again I recited the chain of events as best I could.
Gavin worked his lips as I spoke, his gaze never wavering from mine. I occasionally shifted my attention to the other two men, as though to include them in my narration, but Gavin grew more agitated by the moment. When noise outside the car drew the men’s attention away from me, I had a moment of relief.
A man dressed all in black and wearing body armor rapped at the window. Gavin got out.
“You stay here,” he said to me before slamming the door.
I turned to the other two. “Did I do something wrong?”
They were both about thirty years old. The shorter one had dark hair and a pale complexion. The taller one was broad-shouldered, with sandy hair. Since he was in the passenger seat and I was directly behind him, I could only see his face in profile when he turned to me. The two men exchanged another look.
“You guys are making me nervous,” I said. “Can’t you tell me what’s happening?”
The driver stared out his side window. The passenger said, “No, ma’am,” and shifted his attention away.
I watched buses pull up and I could imagine Bucky complaining about the fact that I sat in a warm black sedan while he and the others were relegated to school bus-quality accommodations.
Silence in the car dragged me down. Gavin had gone off with the black-clad man and I attempted to put the time to good use. I began prioritizing tasks, working backward from our next target: the reception after the White House official ceremonies. Although I’d pressed Marguerite for an answer, she still didn’t know whether the Campbells would participate this year or not. Sean’s death had changed everything. The White House would still open on Tuesday to the public; but in the meantime, everything else was up for grabs.
“How much longer, do you think?” I asked my escorts.
The bigger guy replied. “Don’t know, ma’am.”
I watched minutes tick by on the dashboard clock. More than forty-five minutes later, Gavin finally returned. He opened the door and gestured me out. “Thank you, gentlemen,” he said to the two men up front. “You may return.”
He didn’t say where they were returning to, and they apparently didn’t need to ask. As soon as I alighted and Gavin closed the door, they took off.
I felt like those little dogs who hustle their tiny paws to keep pace with their masters. Gavin didn’t watch to make sure I was keeping up, he just made his way across the south lawn to the doors we’d exited from. “Special Agent Gavin,” I called to his back.
He didn’t stop moving, but his head tilted.
“What’s going on?” I asked, a bit breathless from the wind and the running.
He didn’t answer, but it looked as though he shook his head.
As we reentered the White House, I stole a look backward to see what was going on with the rest of the staff. The buses were filled, but stationary. I hoped everyone had warmed up. Reporters were everywhere. They surrounded the grounds like a pack of eager hyenas waiting to pounce. News vans, with high-perched satellite dishes and camera crews, were everywhere. Pointing their lenses at us.
Inside, I wiped away tears that had formed from the wind beating against my face. Gavin caught me and something in his expression softened. “Everything will be all right, Ollie. This is just procedure.”
Ollie? That was the first time he called me by my given name.
I was about to explain that I wasn’t crying, but he started off again, expecting me to follow. His shiny black shoes made snappy clicks against the floor and I followed him back into the corridor, past all the now-quiet shops, to the storage area where I’d found the box.
CHAPTER 15
GAVIN MADE ME GO OVER MY STEPS, AS PRECISELY as I could recall them. Very slowly. As I remembered and recited-again-another black-clad man took notes. Wearing body armor, a sniper rifle slung around his back and, a heated expression, he neither spoke nor made eye contact with me. I was sure everyone involved in this fracas was furious with me for having caused a major evacuation over nothing. Agents, snipers, and other assorted military folk were everywhere-the halls were filled with people speaking to one another and into radios.
The press would have a field day with this one, I was sure, and I only hoped I wouldn’t be served up like a holiday turkey for them all to feast on.
After ten minutes of tracing my movements, we were still only about five feet inside the storage room. Gavin was insistent on stopping at each step so that the intense note-taker could get down every detail. Problem was, there was not much to tell. And I couldn’t imagine why anyone cared about any of this. Unless they had reason to doubt my story.
I caught a quiver in my voice. God, I hated that. “This is where I noticed that the Johnson china had been moved.”
Gavin nodded.
I took that as encouragement to continue. “So I pushed the bin aside, and found the”-I hesitated-“the box.” I described it, even though I knew they both must have seen it.