Cloud Dust: RD-1 (R-D #1)(32)

*

Corinne

My eyes felt as if they had sand in them, and an unusually bright morning in Britain made them water in pain. Maye and the brothers watched me whenever they could, attempting to figure out what had happened the night before. I might have been of less interest to them if I'd grown an extra head.

The ride to Heathrow seemed to take forever—London is a huge city, after all. August squeezed between Dalton and me on a back seat in our van, and I appreciated his attempts to protect me. Rafe sat in the row in front of mine, and I hadn't failed to notice that Dalton didn't want to be near the former spy if he could help it.

Rafe got Ken's company instead, with Maye and her handler in the first row. The others rode in the second van, and theirs followed ours as we made our way through London traffic to the airport.

I didn't care where I sat on the jet, as long as I could close my eyes and sleep. On the trip from the States, I hadn't been offered anything. This time, I had a pillow, a blanket and bottles of water and juice.

Who knew?

Rafe took the seat next to mine, leaned back, closed his eyes and was asleep in minutes. I stayed awake for half the trip.

*

"You have a meeting with the President tomorrow," Dr. Shaw informed me when I walked into my kitchen. Rafe and August were right behind, so the message was meant for them, too.

"What time?" August asked.

"Three. She has an hour to give you. She wants a report, and has a few questions."

"Great." I shuffled toward the fridge and pulled out the carton of milk. I offered a glass to Rafe, who shook his head and pulled the dusty bottle of bourbon off the top of the fridge before he went looking for a suitable glass. August and Dr. Shaw sat at the island to have a drink with Rafe and me. I was the only one having milk.

The good news, I suppose, was that Rafe and I had two days off, so he wouldn't be pounding me in Krav Maga lessons. "The Vice President's funeral is scheduled next week," Dr. Shaw said, emptying his glass and pushing it toward Rafe, who poured more bourbon.

"The White House is keeping the lid on the incident in London. The reporters only have information on the Prime Minister's two guards. The one who was shot was interviewed earlier from his hospital bed."

"As far as I'm concerned, he can take all the credit." I hunched my shoulders and stared at the patterns in the granite island. "He saved Auggie's life; that's all I care about."

"And I thought you didn't care," August quipped.

"Shut up," I mumbled as good-naturedly as I could.

"Corinne, I cleared some time for you tomorrow morning at ten," Dr. Shaw said. "I'll be here then, whether you're dressed or not. We'll talk."

"Say it ain't so," I moaned and dropped my forehead on the island.

Rafe stayed when August and Dr. Shaw left. "Corinne, what's wrong?" he asked. By mutual, silent agreement, we didn't touch.

"Everything," I breathed.

*

As promised, Dr. Shaw arrived in the kitchen at ten the following morning. I had a bad-hair day going, following a bad-hair night. I brushed it and my teeth, at least, before sitting down with Dr. Shaw.

"Now, what would you like to talk about?" Dr. Shaw said, first thing. "I suggest the events in London as a starting place."

"Dr. Shaw," I began.

"Call me Leo. You've earned that right."

"Seriously? What about the stationery I ordered for all our communications?"

"Corinne, be serious, please," he said.

"I'll have to get used to it first," I said. "It just seems unnatural to say Leo to your face."

He laughed. That didn't happen often.

"There's one thing I ought to tell you," I said. "And believe me, I had a good reason for not saying it before."

"What reason is that?" he asked.

"Because we don't need a war with a certain Asian dictator to be named later."

*

Notes—Colonel Hunter

"Do you mean to tell me those burned paintings were fakes? That Louis the Fifteenth's crown at the Louvre is also fake?" I stared at Shaw in disbelief.

"Corinne said, and I quote, we don't need a war with an Asian dictator to be named later."

"Holy f*cking hell," I blurted. My meeting with the President just became much more complicated.

*

Corinne

"So," the President steepled her fingers and studied me with unblinking scrutiny, "The crown in the Louvre is a fake. Do you suspect that the ones behind the theft of Britain's crown jewels are also behind that attack and theft?"

"Yes, but I can't get a handle on who's responsible," I said, doing my best to sit up straight instead of sinking into my chair.

"Is that what you're doing—searching for the ones responsible?"

"Or the one," I said, happy that my voice only shook a little. "He, she, it or they have lives to pay for. I intend to see that they pay."

"I should have brought her to you in the beginning," Dr. Shaw muttered. He'd insisted on coming to the meeting with August, Rafe and me. "You've gotten more information in five minutes than she's given me in five years."