“Madam President,” she said as she pushed the curtains aside to find Elizabeth Thomas leaning over the railing, grasping the rail. “Are you all right?”
When Thomas didn’t reply, Shield went to stand beside her, the cold metal sending a shock through her body.
“I’m…fine.” The president sounded out of breath, like she’d just run a marathon, and she was clearly using the rail for much-needed support.
Normally, Shield would have lectured her about taking off on her own, but right now Thomas looked like she could barely stand. Something was very wrong. “Should I call the doctor?”
Thomas spun around and looked at her like she’d said something crazy. The exterior security lights on the White House were bright enough for Shield to see that the president was unusually pale. “You can’t call a doctor!” Thomas said, a little too loudly.
“With all due respect,” Shield said, “you don’t look well, and you almost passed out this morning.”
“I’ll be fine,” Thomas insisted. “I’m just tired and…stressed. Besides, I really don’t need the added attention.” She looked at Shield’s bare feet. “You’re the one who’s going to need a doctor.”
Might the president have been drinking? “The in-house doctor is very discreet,” she said.
Thomas gave her a quizzical look. “What are you saying?”
“That he won’t share your…medical information or condition, and I definitely don’t intend to tell anyone, either.”
Thomas threw her hands up. “What…kind of place…is this?” Her breathing became labored again, and she looked on the verge of panic.
“Excuse me?”
Thomas turned her back to Shield and hung over the railing, clearly trying to catch her breath. “Just go away,” she rasped.
“I can’t do that, Madam President.” Shield tried to conceal the clatter of her teeth. She was freezing in her light pajamas and bare feet.
“I don’t need an audience.”
“There’s no shame in having a panic attack, Madam President. At least let me help you to your room before you catch pneumonia.” When Shield put her hand on the chief executive’s shoulder, Thomas jumped.
“Don’t touch me.”
“I’m sorry. I just want to help you.”
Thomas turned to Shield and stumbled against her before regaining her footing. “Thank you, but all of you have given me more damn help than I can handle, so no thanks.” She pushed past Shield and took a few steps into the Yellow Oval Room but stopped when she saw Kenneth Moore standing in the doorway to the corridor.
“I have been trying to call you. What’s going on?” Moore sounded like a father who’d caught his daughter up after curfew. Shield didn’t like the way he looked or talked to Thomas and didn’t know why the president put up with it.
“Nothing is going on. I’m fine.”
“Kennedy?” He looked to Shield for an answer.
“I escorted the president to get some fresh air.”
“In your pajamas?”
Kennedy looked at her frozen feet, now burning from the change in temperature. “I like the cold.”
Moore checked his watch. “At one in the morning?” He glared at Thomas.
The president looked away and Shield could see her hands had started to tremble again.
Something told her that Moore was the last person Thomas wanted to see right now. She clearly wasn’t as close to him as Shield had assumed.
“Madam President, are you ready to go back in?” Shield asked.
“Yes. It is rather chilly, isn’t it?” Thomas walked quickly past Moore into the hallway.
“Is something wrong with the president?” he asked Shield as she started after her.
“As far as I can tell, she just needed to unwind.”
“Did she say anything?”
“No, sir.”
“Nothing at all?”
“Like what?” Shield pretended ignorance. She wasn’t about to tell him about the president’s panic attack.
Moore looked at Shield closely for a long time. “I worry about her,” he finally said when Shield didn’t flinch or look away. “She hasn’t been the same since the assassination attempt.”
“I’m sure she’ll feel a lot better once we find out who’s responsible,” Shield replied. “Now, excuse me. I have to get back to the president.”
*
Ryden was about to shut the door to her bedroom when Kennedy appeared on the other side of the threshold.
“How do you feel, Madam President?” the bodyguard asked.
“Better, thank you.” Ryden’s hands had started to shake again at seeing Moore, so she jammed them in the pockets of her robe.
“Can I ask the doctor for something to help calm you down?”
“That’s not necessary.” Ryden had expected Kennedy to tell Ratman she was unwell and that she’d run off without warning, but the guard dog had protected her instead. She wasn’t sure why, but she did appreciate that much. “Where is Mr. Moore?”
“Down the hall. I didn’t see him leave the Yellow Room.”
Ryden opened the door farther. “Come in, please.” Kennedy stepped inside and Ryden shut the door. “What did he ask you?”
“If something was the matter with you.”
“What did you answer?”
“I didn’t tell him that you seemed…unwell.”
“Thank you.”
“I realize it’s a very stressful period for you,” Kennedy said, “but I assure you, I will do everything in my power to make sure nothing happens to you.”
“Until I finish my term,” Ryden replied, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in her tone.
“If necessary, then yes.”
“Then do me a favor.”
“Of course.”
Ryden had gotten sick and tired of people referring to her as who and what she was not. Every time they did, she became more aware of the lies, deceptions, and danger she was in. Kennedy knew better, anyway, and there was no reason to keep the show running when they were alone. “It’s bad enough I need a permanent babysitter, but since I do, stop calling me Madam President when there’s no one else around.”
“That would be against protocol,” Kennedy said calmly.
“I realize. But it would make my life here a little easier.”
“Very well then, Mrs. Thomas.”
Ryden let the sound of that name sink in for a few seconds. “Call me Elizabeth.” She figured at least that name could belong to anyone, and she wouldn’t necessarily have to associate it with the president.
Kennedy stood dead still as she studied Ryden intently for several seconds, the same way she had when they were first introduced. The bodyguard nodded. “As you wish…Elizabeth.”
That does sound a lot better, Ryden thought, and realized her hands had stopped shaking. “That will be all for tonight.”
Kennedy turned to go. “Sleep well,” she said, and closed the door behind her.
*
Shield tried to sleep but ended up tossing and turning most of the night. Something was up in the White House, something aside from the fact she was convinced an insider had cooperated with Thomas’s attackers. Shield had no proof of the latter, but most organized attempts on a high-profile individual, especially a president, often involved internal assistance.
Thomas and her sidekick Moore presented a whole new dimension to the definition of high-strung. Most probably, the attack played a big part, but that didn’t explain Thomas’s trembling and apologetic behavior whenever Moore was around, as if she feared him. Nor did it explain Moore’s almost threatening demeanor toward the president. At times, he acted as though he owned Thomas, and he was never out of earshot whenever the president made an appearance, even when she was with her family.