Kim glanced quickly around the Rose Garden, just as she had that night in Bar None. The results were the same.

Nothing.

Yet somehow, Double M had managed to slip something into her purse. The man was sharp, resourceful—and quick.

The Irish march was over, and the musicians had begun “Hail to the Chief.” With the first notes of the James Sanderson march, Martin Mallory emerged from the Oval Office to what Kim considered a polite standing ovation. As he waved to the crowd, she checked her shoulder bag. A small white box, held closed by a red elastic, rested on top of her clutter. It weighed no more than a couple of ounces. Nothing to be wary of.

Stepping backwards out of the line of sight of almost everyone, she pulled the elastic off. The box held six compartmentalized pieces of chocolate. It took Kim a few seconds to realize that only five of the pieces were real candy. The sixth small chamber contained something else.

Something not at all edible.

An earpiece.

“Hail to the Chief” was winding down, to be followed by the national anthems, but Kim could hardly hear the music. Her pulse was a kettledrum in her ears.

Ahead and to her right, the president was waving and smiling for the cameras.

Kim pretended to adjust her earring and fiddled with the small apparatus until it slipped inside her left ear. Immediately, she heard static, then a man’s tinny voice, probably electronically altered. Still, his words, even heard through her pulse, were quite audible.

“This is the end of the recording. It will loop for ten minutes more before its contents become permanently erased. Darlene Mallory must listen to this recording and agree to help.”

Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

Already on high alert, Darlene tensed even more when she saw Kim approaching. Something had happened between her chief of staff and the young girl from the chorus. And whatever it was, Darlene strongly suspected, had something to do with Double M. Then, when Kim stealthily brought out a small white box from her bag, opened it, extracted something, and quickly closed it again, she was certain.

Martin was at the podium now, waving to the crowd. God, but he loved his job. Each percentage drop in his popularity had been like a dagger in his heart.

Hard as his plummeting numbers were on him, both physically and mentally, he maintained an unyielding belief in his programs and in his vision for the future of America. But lately, reassuring him, deflecting his bullwhip temper, and validating his decisions had become something of a second full-time job for Darlene.