Eggsecutive Orders

I started to answer, but he cut me off.

“We’re on cell phones. Stop talking. Now.” He blew out a breath. “Where are you?”

“Just about to get on the Metro to go home.”

“You’re at the station?”

“At the top of the stairs.”

“Wait there,” he said and hung up.

I didn’t much care for the idea of hanging around waiting for Tom, especially when he sounded so aggravated. It was dark out, and standing alone outside a Metro station made me believe I was asking for trouble. But he arrived in less than five minutes. Pulling up in a government-issue sedan, he popped the locks and waved me in.

“First of all,” I began, even before my butt hit the seat, “I work in the White House. I hear sensitive things all the time.”

He pulled away the moment my door was closed. “Do you usually broadcast them over your cell phone?”

“No one is listening in on my cell phone.”

“You sure about that?”

I shrugged.

His mouth was tight as he asked, “You ever think they might be listening in on mine?”

“I thought yours was secure.”

He made an exasperated noise. “You and I work in the White House. Nothing is as secure as we’d like it to be.”

“Second,” I said, “if this puffer fish toxin is what killed Minkus, why in the world is the kitchen cleared of suspicion? I would think this would make us look more guilty.”

“Puffer fish isn’t the toxin’s only source,” he said.

“I know that. But that doesn’t mean the kitchen should be cleared.”

I had no idea where we were going. From the arbitrary turns Tom took, it appeared he had no idea either. “You don’t want to be cleared?”

“Of course I do. I just don’t understand it.”

There was a parking spot open, just a few cars ahead of us. Tom was silent as he pulled into it and shut off the engine. “Why do you need to understand? Why can’t you just accept the facts as presented to you?”

“Because they don’t make sense.”

He stared out the windshield for a long moment. We were on a deserted street not far from the expressway, and I could see the lighted Washington Monument in the distance. At least I recognized where I was, in case he made me get out and walk.

I took in his profile, and knew that would never happen. For all our miscommunication and differences of opinion, Tom was an honorable guy.

“Now, listen carefully, Ollie,” he said, still staring straight ahead. “I am going to tell you something that is not classified information. But it’s close. This may not answer your questions, but if you listen… carefully”-he turned to face me as he repeated the directive-“you should be satisfied. And maybe then you’ll be able to stay out of the Secret Service’s business. For once.”

I was about to protest that I hadn’t actually done anything wrong this time, but the look in his eyes warned me to keep quiet.

“Hypothetically,” he said, “special agents who have done field work…”

“Like Minkus?”

He held a finger to my lips. Despite my resolve to distance myself, I felt a familiar tingle at his touch.

“Special agents who have done field work,” he repeated, “may, and I repeat-may-have acquired the necessary means to… dispatch… hostile individuals who intend to harm the agents.”

“Dispatch meaning… kill?”

He nodded.

I thought about that. At di

“Tetrodotoxin,” he continued, assuming a bit of a teacher-tone, “which can be extracted not only from the puffer fish, but from the blue-ringed octopus, and several other species as well, is very effective in killing humans.” He raised his eyebrows. “Because tetrodotoxin is an unusual substance, a medical examiner would not know to test for it. At least not initially.”

“I’m with you,” I said.

His eyes registered sadness. I wished I’d chosen different words.

“It is not unreasonable to assume that a field agent could have such a substance in his or her possession.”

“So you think Cooper did it? You think Cooper spiked Minkus’s di

Tom’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t answer, but I could tell that wasn’t the conclusion he wanted me to draw.

“If we take our hypothetical agent as an example…” he said.

Okay, he meant Minkus.

“… and that agent believed he was being targeted…”

“For what?”

“That is classified.”

I nodded. “Go ahead.”

“If the hypothetical agent was under pressure from outside forces…” Tom gave me the evil eye. “Strong forces, say from hostile foreign governments…”

I nodded again.

“… we think it is likely that such an agent might have been prepared to protect himself.”

“Then how did he end up dead?”

He shrugged. “That’s the million-dollar question.”

“Could he have committed suicide?”

“That is one of several scenarios we are looking into.”

I held Tom’s gaze for an extended moment. “That’s a nice, tidy answer,” I said. “But there’s more, isn’t there?”

He licked his lips and shrugged. “All I can tell you is that agents all over the world-some from other countries-have the same means of killing at their disposal. It’s also possible that our hypothetical agent was assassinated by another country’s operative.”

“ China, most likely,” I said. “Right?”

Tom leaned back, and it was then I noticed how close he had been. “That’s as much as I can say.”

“I take it from your reaction over the phone that this revelation about tetrodotoxin won’t make the evening news.”

He shook his head. “We can’t let that out. Not yet. No one knows except for the president, a couple of trusted advisors…”

I thought about Cooper and Kap. Were they the trusted advisors Tom referred to?

“… and those of us on the PPD. I gotta tell you, Ollie: I never expected the chef to be party to this information.”

“I overhear a lot.”

“Sure,” he said, clearly not believing me. “Just don’t tell anyone else, okay? We’re not even telling the Minkus family, yet. Until we know for certain whether he was targeted-or whether he took his own life-we can’t let even a hint of this get out.”

We sat in silence for a moment.

One thing still bothered me. “What makes the medical examiner so sure this toxin didn’t come from the kitchen?”

Tom shifted in his seat. “Hypothetically, again?”

Could he use that word any more times tonight? “Of course.”

“Toxic substances are tightly controlled by the government-as you might expect.” He squinted into the night. “But occasionally the government experiences a breach. And sometimes a breach isn’t discovered until an inventory is taken.”

“The NSA is missing a supply of tetrodotoxin?”

Tom’s jaw worked. “It may have simply been misplaced.”

It all made sense now. “That’s why the ME knew to test for it.”

He didn’t answer that. He didn’t have to. “Whether an individual acquired it from the government supply, or whether this is a mere clerical error, there are serious issues at stake. And a lack of competence we find unacceptable.” He looked at me. “There are already measures in place to discover what happened and to prevent any such mix-up from happening again.”

“Wow.” There really wasn’t much else to say. “This is real, isn’t it?”

He looked at me.

“I mean, we hear about espionage… but there are real people who use toxins against one another. On purpose.” I shuddered. “I don’t like it.”

“Necessary evils.”

“Maybe,” I said.

Again we were silent for a long moment. I broke the silence. “What are you doing for Easter tomorrow?”

He shrugged. “Family stuff.”

“I’m cooking at my place,” I said, by way of conciliation. “At four. In case you’re interested.”

His eyes were unreadable. “I…” His voice made a tiny little catch. “Ollie. I think maybe we need this break.”

I felt my heart wrench.

He looked into my eyes. “Can I ask you something?’