Daniel's Christmas Page 7
Being angry was a skill Daniel had never developed. On purpose. He was often called unflappable and had always been proud that the petty sniping so traditional in D.C. politics didn’t get to him. Not when clerking in the Senate, not when serving as the First Lady’s personal secretary, and not when the Congressional Leadership was fighting him just for the sake of being pigheaded.
Alice managed to make it all her fault, though he knew Major Beale had played a significant role. But Alice was so upset that he’d agreed to make the second flight with minimal protest. He managed to keep his mouth shut and not say that he could think of little he’d like less while still on this side of the Apocalypse.
The Mi-4 Hound sounded completely different. The high whine of the Black Hawk’s turbine engines was replaced by the buzz of the massive radial engine in the nose. The beat of the helo’s blades wasn’t all that different once they were underway. But despite the bigger cargo bay, Daniel felt quite claustrophobic.
On the Black Hawk, he’d been side-by-side with Alice. The open cargo doors had offered a wide view to the Virginian night and he hadn’t felt any fear that he might fall, except for those few heart-stopping seconds of the emergency landing. He could observe the crew chiefs Big John and Crazy Tim sitting right in front of them and by looking up the middle, he’d been able to at least partly watch what the two pilots were doing.
On the Hound, he and Alice were seated across from each other on little fold-down metal seats amidships with only small, round porthole windows to offer any view. John and Tim actually lounged back on a pair of seats that were built into the rear doors that swung outward. With no miniguns and only one gauge on helicopter status, they had nothing to do during the flight. The cockpit was up a ladder and through a small hole, making the pilots almost unobservable.
And the front of his helmet didn’t have an infrared view painted across the visor. It had clear plastic, so all he could see was the inside of the cabin.
The pilots weren’t quiet on this ride.
“Let’s run her an extra twenty feet high until we’re sure of her,” Henderson showing some caution.
His wife gave a running commentary, “Night vision has a lousy field of view low and forward. I don’t dare try to terrain follow. Climbing an additional twenty.”
Hard turns side-to-side threw Daniel back and forth between harness and hard metal hull of the helicopter.
“She’s tough, but she sure doesn’t dance.”
One of the crew chiefs chimed in with, “Don’t ask us to shoot anything; we’d have to kick a hole in the side of the helicopter and stick out a FN SCAR.”
The Special Forces Combat Assault Rifle was very useful hand-to-hand, and each of the crew wore one across their chest as a matter of practice. Daniel felt far safer with the two mini-guns of the Black Hawk. Instead of the little rifle magazines that could fit in his hand, the miniguns fired thousands of rounds a minute from large boxes. He liked that.
Yes, it might be more clandestine to visit North Korea in a Mil Hound, but he’d take firepower when entering the most hostile country on the planet outside of Somalia.
This time they called “simulation” on the emergency landing test, but he didn’t like it one bit more this time than the last.
They landed more slowly, but the helicopter complained much more loudly. Sheet metal banged as it flexed. The sharp ringing sound of the shock absorber right under his seat that sent him leaping against his harness made his ears hurt.
“Bottomed out the shocks there,” one of the pilots remarked drily. “Not as forgiving as you’d expect.”
Daniel was so wound up he couldn’t even tell if it was Mark or Emily’s voice. His leap was the only thing that had avoided a seriously bruised butt.
Moments after they were airborne, while they were still clawing for the altitude to clear the bleachers behind the baseball field, Beale shouted over the intercom.
“Incoming! Portside.” An alarm sounded. “Cracked cylinder head, ten percent loss of power.” Sure enough, the sound of the rotor blades slowed, faded ever so slightly.
The helicopter veered to the right, away from the attack, but even Daniel could tell that it was sluggish.
Despite the deck heeling sharply, the two crew chiefs were on their feet. Their vests had a large D-ring on the front. Long tethers were snapped to them which let the chiefs move about the cabin. The other ends were clipped to metal loops in the ceiling.
Some visual signal passed between the two men. The giant one heaved open a side hatch close beside Daniel. The metal door slammed open so hard that the helicopter rang loudly enough to hurt Daniel’s ears despite the protection of his helmet.
The shorter one, Tim Maloney, unslung his FN SCAR rifle and was aiming it out the door. Sergeant Big John Wallace held him in place with one fist wrapped around a handhold and the other grasping the back of Tim’s flight vest.
There was no rattle of gunfire. No flash of— Tim’s suit sounded an ear-piercing squeal!
“Shit!” Tim dropped to the floor still blocking part of the doorway.
Alice screamed and Daniel nearly did the same.
Big John crouched behind Tim and brought his own rifle to bear. Tim remained in place, apparently too wounded to move.
Without hesitation, Daniel reached across the middle of the helicopter’s narrow cabin and pulled Alice’s head down, as far toward his knees as the harness allowed, to reduce her exposure to incoming fire.
Daniel glanced back at the wounded crew chief even as he crouched over her. Tim’s raised hand still grabbed the doorframe. He was wounded past being able to fight, but he was staying in place to act as a human shield for his fellow crew chief. Buying him precious moments to fend off the attackers. It was the bravest thing Daniel had ever seen.
That was when Daniel noticed the bright red flashes on the bulkhead right where Alice’s head had been moments before.
Lasers. It was a training flight and they were being shot with lasers. Tim’s suit must have registered him as hit in the firefight. That’s why it had squealed, a hit. And why his rifle, and now John’s, sounded with no rattle of gunfire.
It was only a mock battle.
Despite that, Daniel was still impressed that Tim had shielded his friend with his own body. He couldn’t imagine doing such a thing. To want to protect someone so much that your instinct put you in front of the bullets.
Once they were in the clear, Daniel realized that he still had Alice trapped down across his knees. Even if he couldn’t imagine throwing himself in front of the bullet, his instincts apparently had other ideas about who he wanted to protect.
Chapter 17
“You have the strangest idea of what constitutes a date.” Daniel’s smile was soft and his voice teasing. He’d walked Alice to her apartment door and now they huddled under the narrow porch roof to escape from the light snow that started falling as Daniel drove her home.
Alice admitted she’d bit off more than she’d intended. Her nerves were still freaking out. The attack had seemed so real, her death so imminent. Nothing in the CIA’s S.A.D. training had prepared her for the reality of SOAR training. Of course, all they’d gotten from S.A.D. as non-combatants was a helicopter ride and a quick thirty-minute flight in a jet that could flip and roll better than any amusement park ride.
What she hadn’t been prepared for was the realism. Or that Daniel had thrown himself between Alice and the attackers, simulated or not. She’d always stood up for herself, known she was on her own.
He ran a gentle thumb over her lower lip, his fingertips brushing her cheek, cradling it with a tenderness that brought tears to her eyes and a pounding to her heart that she’d only read of and scoffed at in books.
She wanted to run inside and weep at the wonder of a man who would willingly sacrifice his life for hers, even in simulation. She wanted a cup of hot cocoa with a very la
rge shot of brandy in it to calm the jitters. And Alice also wanted to drag Daniel into bed and lose herself in the throes of the passion that was raging for release. A passion she’d kept safely under wraps her whole life because no one had ever called it forth.
Alice slid her hand up Daniel’s chest and around his neck. She pulled him down to her, their breath steamy in the cold night air mingling, merging, and gone when their lips met.
A warmth spread through her as he tipped her back the last few inches until she lay back against her own closed front door. The soft porch light shone down over Daniel, lighting him like an angel. Her own personal angel.
She couldn’t stop the smile crossing her lips.
Daniel smiled back in response and pulled back just far enough to speak. “What?”
“Sounds stupid.” And it did.
“Say it anyway.”
She looked up into his eyes and over his shoulder saw a Secret Service agent standing just a few paces back.
“I’m sorry, sir, but you’ve been called back to the White House.” He held out a cell phone.
In moments, with barely a word beyond “South Africa conference again,” a few choice moments of silence when any less tactful man would curse a blue streak, and a final light brush of fingertips down her cheek in apology, Alice lay alone against her front door and Daniel was giving rapid instructions over the phone as they hustled him back to the escort car.
She unlocked the doors and turned on the hallway light. As usual, the mess that was her apartment had not magically rectified itself during her absence.
“Is that the kind of life you want?” Alice asked the empty room. The lack of privacy. The inability to complete something you hadn’t even started yet.
She didn’t know which was more shocking, that she even considered asking the question or that the answer was yes. For this man, it just might be worth it.
Chapter 18
Daniel listened to the phone ring in his ear while ignoring the pile on his desk. It had actually lowered over the last week, just not as much as it needed to.
All week Daniel had fought against two conflicting agendas: the tide on his desk and finding a moment to actually see Alice. To discover what might lay past those kisses of hers that were so much richer than the best apple cider fresh off the press. Through the calendar’s nightly treats of a candy on an elastic bracelet to a tiny chocolate bar and a half dozen other variations, he’d only managed to spend time with Dr. Alice Thompson on the phone.
He’d seen Henderson twice and Beale three times as they continued testing the possible scenarios for infiltrating a heavily militarized, paranoid country not once but twice two days apart.
But not Alice.
It was really quite unsatisfying in so many ways. But she’d made it clear that no matter what time he called, she’d gladly answer the phone. It might take a few minutes before her words were actually comprehensible, but once she was awake, they talked easily and often long.
Still no answer. Usually she’d answer by now.
Yet it didn’t feel real or satisfying. Maybe the whole thing was in his head. Maybe she was merely being nice on the phone. He could feel a distance building. A couple of premature kisses and a pair of heart-stopping helicopter flights didn’t make up for a week apart.
And when they talked, he felt… They talked far more about him than her. She was the one he wanted to know about. Instead, they talked about the family farm in Tennessee.
How he’d come to Washington to promote the Slow Food movement in the southeast. She didn’t know about that and they’d spent whole conversations discussing seasonal and local rather than unsustainable farming and having to ship food immense distances. To eat the flour that was made from the wheat just down the road, Daniel’s research had shown that the nearest flour mill was five hundred miles away. His local wheat had to travel a thousand miles just to become flour, never mind be baked.
He reluctantly reached out to cut the connection. He hung onto the receiver, considering calling her cell phone. But it was nearly midnight. Maybe he should just leave her be. He didn’t want to speak to her on the phone anyway. He wanted to hold her close. He wanted his world to stop the way it did when she rested her head on his shoulder. He wanted to know about her.
When he did manage to turn the conversation to being about her, it was her professional life they explored. Her work was truly fascinating to him.
He’d always been a people person, almost as good a negotiator and peacemaker as the President. The President excelled on the larger issues: averting national strikes, international relations, and so on. Daniel’s specialty was becoming the fine art of convincing the swing vote on a key bill. They’d recently passed a very controversial education financing package and Daniel had stood at the center of it. It had been his victory.
And once again, Dr. Alice Thompson would somehow not be the topic of conversation. Maybe if he had the FBI pull a file on her he’d find out something. Surely the FBI would have a file on a senior CIA analyst. Wouldn’t they?
Daniel set the phone back in the cradle and stared out his office window. The ledge was the perfect height to prop his feet and stare past the tips of his polished shoes. Something he’d never done until Alice had propped her green and red sneakers on his desk almost two weeks ago. Beyond the heavy glass, the White House grounds spread before him, brightly lit as always. That was one thing that the movies got wrong, it was never dark inside the White House without closing heavy curtains.
He knew he shouldn’t turn around, his desk would just be there waiting for him. He had to get focused on the North Korea problem, but the ever-shifting files and crises kept it off the top of his list.
A clandestine visit could be anything from a defection to personal bribery in exchange for vague promises to stop their next space launch. That the latest launch had shredded itself shortly after liftoff and scattered debris over the Yellow Sea hadn’t mitigated the serious international furor.
Alice had said something in their conversation yesterday. She didn’t speak much during their phone calls and Daniel often lost the thread of their conversations when she did speak. Her voice was calm and soothing, and he had to admit sometimes he simply enjoyed listening to the lilt and flow.
He couldn’t pin down her accent at all. A D.C. resident who didn’t have that soft touch of the South. But neither did she have the New York rhythms, though she did admit to being raised there in addition to schooling there.
It was a voice he could listen to for hours... But she didn’t speak on the phone.
That was it. So much of Daniel’s life was done by phone. Calls to the Hill, overseas with the assistants of other world leaders, that was his comfort zone. Alice, so open and cheerful in person, was, at best, reticent on the phone.
He dropped his feet to the floor and stared out at the white oak tree beyond his window. Bare of leaves it spread its arms in reaching majesty. It had been too long since he’d been out in the country. Camp David a couple of times, but he hadn’t been down to visit his dad or sister on the farm in at least six months, maybe closer to a year. If they hadn’t come to D.C. every month or so for a visit he’d have gone crazy from missing them.
That’s what he had to do. He had to get out of the White House and go see Dr. Alice Thompson. See if there was more behind those few kisses that turned his well-ordered mind into a cloud of confetti. She didn’t mind whatever hour he called, maybe she’d be okay if he just showed up instead.
Without turning from the window, he reached back for his phone. He punched for the Secret Service office.
“Hi, I’d like a car.” He told the on-duty officer who answered. “Destination is Woodmont, the home of Dr. Thompson.”
He hung up the phone, nodded to himself in the window. Good decision. Do something for Daniel rather than the country. He liked the way that felt. It felt right.
There was a thought to stop him. Daniel found it very easy to imagine how Dr. Thompson would look tousled with sleep, blinking up at him through a partially open front door.
He spun back to his desk seeking something better than a White House-logoed mug and there she was. Sitting in his chair as if she’d been there a while.
Daniel searched for words. Found none.
He blinked twice. Still there. A third time. No change.
Her smile grew, “You might want to raise your jaw. It looks funny all open like that.”
He managed to close it.
“You’re here?” It came out as little more than a croak.
She reached out with one of those beautiful, slim-fingered hands and poked a single finger against her thigh as if testing.
“Yes, I appear to actually be here.”
“That’s why you didn’t answer your phone.”
She nodded.
“You were here when I called you.”
“I could hear the ring. Something like fourteen times. How deaf do you think I am?”
Daniel didn’t know what to do with that one and decided the wisest course might be to just let it go.
“I did like that you’d memorized my number rather than just setting me up on speed dial.”
Then he’d avoid mentioning that he barely knew how to work the new phone system. And hers was the only number he’d called during his year in this office that wasn’t routed through Janet.
“You are going to say something substantive eventually, aren’t you?”
He nodded but still couldn’t find the clutch to engage his brain.
Her laugh rippled out and up, rising a quick octave.
That finally shook him loose. He rose and circled the desk, or started to.
His jacket caught the stack of files on the desk and only a quick dive saved a repeat performance of the earlier night. By the time he had the mess stabilized and dared once more turn his attention on Alice, she too had risen to her feet.