Shakeup (Stone Barrington #55) - Stuart Woods Page 0,8

him toward the outside door, opened it, then into the Rose Garden. An Air Force helicopter set down gently on the White House helipad. Its door opened and an Army sergeant emerged and braced at the door.

Holly kept Clark moving. “There’ll be a car waiting at the East Side heliport, to take you wherever you need to go. Keep in touch, and after this issue has been resolved, perhaps we can find another slot for you. In the meantime, please send along your resignation for our files.”

He tried to respond, but the rotors drowned him out. Holly handed him off to the sergeant, who ushered him aboard, then entered and closed the door. The machine lifted off and made a climbing turn to the north.

Holly made her way back into the Oval Office and picked up a phone. “Is Kirby Reese here, yet?”

“Yes, Madam President.”

“Please send him in.”

The door opened, and a short, dapper man in his sixties came in.

“Good morning, Kirby, I hope you’re well,” Kate said, showing him to the sofa and taking her seat.

“Thank you, yes, Madam President.”

“This is the perfect moment to have you here,” Holly said. “Perhaps you’ve heard, we’re short a cabinet member.”

“No, I hadn’t heard.”

“Don Clark is, of course, broken up about the death of his wife and feels that he can’t accept commerce at this point.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Reese said.

“And so I want to offer you the post of secretary of commerce, and I hope you will accept.”

“Thank you, Madam President, I’d be honored to join your cabinet.”

“Oh, good.” She rose, bringing him to his feet. “Our first cabinet meeting is at three o’clock this afternoon. I’ll look forward to seeing you then. My secretary will give you some briefing papers as you leave.”

They shook hands, and Reese left.

Holly went back to her study and to work. Once again, all was right with the world. For the moment. She knew that couldn’t last. Then she had a thought and buzzed her secretary.

“Yes, Madam President?”

“Will you send in my briefing book for this afternoon’s cabinet meeting?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And is that young lady from Ralph Lauren’s office still in town?”

“I believe she leaves for New York this afternoon.”

“Could you get her on the phone for me?”

“Of course, Madam President.”

A moment later, her phone rang. “Ms. Roth,” her secretary said.

Holly picked up the phone. “Shelley?”

“Yes, Madam President.”

“I wonder if you could do something for me. I need a dress made for a friend of mine. Her birthday is this weekend. Could your people run something up for me?”

“Of course. What did you have in mind?”

“A burka.”

“Did you say a burka?”

“I did. She’s Muslim. Nothing too colorful, but not black, either. Something that doesn’t attract too much attention.”

“Shall I send you some swatches?”

“No, I’ll trust your judgment.”

“What dress size is she?”

“Fortunately, exactly the same as mine; you can use the dummy you made up for me.”

“And when do you need it?”

“If you could deliver it to the attention of Claire Dunne—she’s the head of my Secret Service detail—at the Carlyle Hotel by noon on Friday.”

“Of course.”

“And send the bill to my friend, Stone Barrington. You have his address. It’s a gift from both of us.”

“Consider it done, Madam President.”

“Goodbye, Shelley.” Holly hung up. It would amuse Stone to get the bill, she thought . . .

8

On Friday morning, Joan entered Stone’s office and handed him a thick, creamy envelope with the words Ralph Lauren printed on the backflap. “This came for you,” she said. “I suppose it’s a tailoring bill, but somehow, it doesn’t sound like you.”

Stone removed the contents of the envelope and scanned it, then burst out laughing. “I didn’t think she’d do it,” he said.

“Who’d do it?”

“Holly. We can expect her sometime this afternoon. She’ll drive straight into the garage.”

“I’m confused,” Joan said. “In a burka?”

“Exactly. It’s the only way she can travel around the city without being recognized.”

Joan laughed, too. “God, I hope the tabloids don’t get wind of this.”

“They won’t, because you and a Secret Service agent are the only people who know. If the press finds out, we’ll know who to shoot.”

“Oh, I almost forgot. A Mr. Donald Clark phoned, and he insisted on coming over here immediately. He says you know him.”

“We’ve met,” Stone said. “I’ve met his wife, too. Send him in when he arrives. And send Ralph Lauren a check.”

“Will do.”

Five minutes later, Joan ushered in Donald Clark.

Stone shook his hand. “Hello, Don. Once again, my condolences.”

“Thank you, Stone.”

“And thank you for your hospitality on Inauguration