Part 18 (1/2)
”If I don't have that environmental report on Ms. Irwin's desk by morning, it'll be my head,” she quipped to the guard at the security checkpoint.
He was a new guy. She hadn't seen him before. Average size. Crooked teeth.
She noticed his teeth in particular because of the way he grinned at her. It was more of a leer. Either manning security at the White House was lonelier than she thought, or the guy was. .h.i.tting on her. It was hard to tell because if he was making a pa.s.s at her, he wasn't very good at it.
The security guard laughed a little too loud at her quip, and when she glanced back while turning a corner, he was still looking at her, still leering.
Now that she was in her office, she focused on the task at hand. She searched her desk for her copy of the environmental report. It was the key to her plan. Earlier in the day Margaret had instructed her to deliver a copy of the report-which outlined the long-range impact of offsh.o.r.e oil drilling on California's coastline-to Ms. Irwin for the president. Just as she was walking out the door, Margaret had called her back. Chief of Staff Ingraham was screaming for follow-up phone calls to the Hill regarding a vote on an upcoming minimum wage bill. Working the phones was Christina's strength.
She didn't know who Margaret had sent to deliver the report, but if anyone were to ask her, Christina could say in all good conscience that she'd been instructed to deliver the report and at the last minute got sidetracked, so it was either come early to work in the morning and deliver the report or do it tonight.
”There you are,” she said, spying the report buried under a landslide of fiscal graphs.
”Found it, did you?”
The voice startled her, nearly sending her heart through the ceiling. She swung around to see the guard with crooked teeth. He leaned casually against the doorjamb, his thumbs hooked in his belt. ”Would hate to see you lose that pretty head,” he said, making a guttural sound while dragging a thumb across his neck execution style.
Charming, Christina thought.
”I'll walk you down,” he said.
Smiling as sweetly as she could, Christina said, ”Oh, that won't be necessary. I'm sure you have more important things to do.”
”Not at all. I'm making my rounds. It's on the way.”
”Oh . . . well, in that case.”
She clutched the report to her chest with both arms and exited the room. He barely gave her room to get by him. He smelled her hair as she pa.s.sed under his nose.
They strolled casually down the hallway. She had to figure out a way to get rid of him.
He began narrating his life story without asking if she wanted to hear it. He'd been raised in the Bronx, his first job out of high school was as a New York cop. After taking a bullet to the leg during a grocery store holdup, he landed a job in security at the governor's office. Then, when a buddy got hired at the White House, he thought, ”Why not? It'll impress the ladies.”
He'd been divorced two years following a four-year marriage to a Georgia Peach-his words. Their marriage didn't last ”because Southern girls are stuck on themselves and don't get city boys.”
Christina wondered what the Georgia Peach would say to her ex's version of the breakup.
”You're not a Southern girl, are you?” he asked.
”As a matter of fact I am,” she said brightly.
His face fell.
Christina was delighted. ”Born and raised in Texas,” she boasted.
”Texas?” he cried. ”Texas? That's not Southern!”
”It most certainly is!” Christina said, thickening her Southern accent.
”Nah. Texas is Texas, and from what I've heard, Texas girls-mmmm doggie-are in a cla.s.s all by themselves. They're nothing like them prissy Georgia or Alabama girls. Texas girls know how to keep their cowboys smilin', if you know what I mean.”
They were fast approaching Ms. Irwin's office. Christina was running out of time. After his last remark, she could think of nothing she'd rather do than slap him, call him a pig, and report him for s.e.xual hara.s.sment, but if she did that it would involve reports and Margaret would find out she'd been here and this was supposed to be a covert operation.
The problem remained, how to get rid of him? If he stood in the doorway and waited while she dropped off the report, she wouldn't be able to snoop around.
They reached the doorway to Ms. Irwin's office. She turned to him. ”Thank you for walking me, Officer . . .”
”Kowalski,” the security officer said. ”Didn't I tell you that already? Bruno Kowalski.”
”Bruno . . . of course,” she said.
”Actually, it's Eugene. Bruno's a nickname. I don't tell just anyone my real name, you know. Only special people. You have to promise you won't spread it around.”
”Your secret is safe with me, Officer Kowalski.”
”Bruno.”
”Yes . . . Bruno.”
He flashed his crooked teeth. ”Don't mention it, Christine.” His grin widened. ”Surprised I knew your first name? I didn't need to look at your badge. I memorized it when you came through security. I don't always memorize pretty girls' names, but something told me you were special and I just might want to use it again sometime soon. Guess I was right, right?”
Christina did her best to keep smiling. ”Well . . . again . . . thank you, Bruno. It was nice meeting you.” She extended her hand.
Take the hint, take the hint, please take the hint, Christina pleaded silently.
”Oh, I don't mind waitin' for you,” Kowalski said. ”I'll wait right here and when you're done I'll walk you back.”
His radio crackled.
”Kowalski, are you still in the john?”
With surprising speed, Kowalski snapped up the radio. Turning down the volume, he turned his back on her and spoke in a hushed tone, but not so low Christina couldn't hear.
”I'm making my rounds,” he said.
”Your rounds aren't for another half hour! You told me you were going to the john. Get back here ASAP!”
”But Sarge-”
”ASAP Kowalski!”
”They need me back at check-in,” he said to Christina. ”Seems like I have to do everything around here. Stop by on your way out, maybe we can arrange our own personal hoedown at a bar. I get off work in a couple of hours.” He winked at her and made a checking sound that, if Christina were a horse, was the equivalent of giddyup.
As Officer Kowalski sauntered back down the hallway alone, Christina checked her watch, noting that she had thirty minutes to fill before exiting the building, while Officer Kowalski was making his rounds.
When the hallway was clear, Christina stepped tentatively inside the outer office, known by everyone in the building as Ms. Irwin's office.
She was relieved not to find anyone-she might not be the only one working late. Without turning on the lights, she took a quick look around.
Just inside the door to the right was an aide's desk. The person who sat here was the keeper of the office gate. At any given time, up to five secretaries worked in this office. To get to any of them, you had to get past Stewart, Ms. Irwin's aide.