Cloud Dust: RD-1 (R-D #1)(63)

Most people might have apologized to Madam President. Or thanked her.

I wasn't in the mood.

On any given day, who's to say who is more important than those who surround them? We both had jobs to do. Some people are just more cheerful than others early in the morning. I'm not in the cheerful camp.

"Cabbage," Rafe cautioned.

"Yeah."

When the President was far enough ahead, Auggie snickered.

"Auggie," I warned.

"Yeah."

*

"Where did that come from?" August read what I typed over my shoulder while we flew over Chicago.

I worked on my book while Rafe sat beside me and Auggie held a cup of coffee in his hands and read what I typed.

"This is my fancy tablet," I said. "James ordered it for me. It's not as heavy or as big as a laptop, and the cover is a keyboard. It fits in my purse," I added.

"James has an ulterior motive," Auggie said. "He wants the ending on that book."

"I'm working on it," I said. "It keeps me from worrying about other stuff."

"Anything I should be concerned about?" Auggie asked.

"I sure hope not," I said.

*

The first thing on our agenda when we arrived in Sacramento was to go to the bombed capitol building with the Governor. It was time to pull on my wig so I could appear in public with Madam President.

Rafe and I had gone blond for this event, and not by choice. I figured James' fantasies probably played a role in the choice of hair color, but I didn't say that.

News crews packed a nearby parking lot as we drove into the designated area at the ruined capitol building. We had half an hour scheduled there before we loaded into the vehicle again and drove to the memorial service.

"Cori, are we being watched?" Auggie said beside me as we walked a few discreet steps behind the President and the Governor.

"By millions," I gave the obvious answer. "If you mean are we being watched by somebody who wants us dead, well, I think that's a given. I just don't feel them close," I added.

"Good. Let me know if that changes."

"Will do."

I'd already checked the Secret Service agents and the guards with the Governor. So far, so good. They were doing their jobs and weren't bent on destruction.

The capitol building was a mess; Ted Ryan and his cohorts had orchestrated the bombing so the dome would fall, leaving a gaping hole in the building. The whole structure was considered unstable, and I wondered if they'd be able to save much of it.

The Sacramento Police and Fire Chiefs joined the President and the Governor as we approached the front steps—those were still intact, leading the way to a gaping ruin.

*

"I don't care what she looks like, that's her," Cutter pointed at the woman following the President.

"The witch?"

"Yes. That's her."

"As far as I'm concerned, there are two witches there. You know where a woman's place is, and it isn't the White House."

"I can't get close to her; she'll recognize me," Cutter sighed. "I'd love to take her out, though. There's no way she and the others should have survived in London."

"The death of the Secretary of State should have sealed the deal," Cutter's companion agreed. "You should be on your way to the presidency. Instead, you managed to lose the source and you're on every watch list the FBI, CIA and NSA have."

"The house was burning and Becker was dead. What did you expect me to do?" Cutter whined.

"Take the f*cking body with you."

"Hey, there's no need for that," Cutter held up his hands as he stared at the gun his companion pulled from a jacket pocket.

"You're of no use to us."

Cutter didn't have time to protest before he was shot three times in the heart. "Don't worry, we'll take care of the witches. That's our job," his companion stepped over Cutter's body and headed for the door.

*

Corinne

Madam President discussed the rebuilding of the capitol while Cutter died in a motel room in Canada.

Auggie, Cutter just died, I said. That was a blow. He had information I needed, and now it was impossible to get it.

"Who?" Auggie was beside me quickly while Rafe carefully watched everybody around us.

"I don't know," I whispered. "All I know is that he was shot. Probably because he was a liability and didn't haul Becker's body with him when he ran out of the house in Utah."

"Can you tell me where to send the authorities to collect him?"

"Verbena Motel on the outskirts of Chilliwack, British Columbia," I said. Auggie stepped away and pulled out his cell. The President cut her eyes in our direction for a moment before going back to the Governor's conversation.

*

"Auggie, he hadn't been there longer than five minutes," I attempted to defend myself during the drive to the memorial service. He wanted to know why I hadn't told him immediately where Cutter was. The truth was complicated. I needed connections, and dead people generally don't reveal needed information.

Everything Cutter owned in the U.S. had already been searched, with no results. What he had that I wanted was in his head. I needed names and images, and I didn't have those. I didn't expect Colonel August Hunter to understand that.