THE PRESIDENT OF the United States sits in silence with his chief of staff for a minute after the very angry and very determined head of his Presidential Protective Division has left the Oval Office. He gets up from the couch and walks over to his wooden desk, Resolute, a gift to the nation from Queen Victoria. Harrison sits down behind the small and ornate desk, the same one used by JFK and Bill Clinton, reflecting that they too had women problems—just like him, just like now.
The Oval Office…how many times has he spoken to the nation from this room? How many times has he had his photo taken with visitors and dignitaries in this historic place? How many meetings held here with cabinet members or news reporters?
Now, he has just concluded a meeting about secretly looking for his missing wife on the same day his relationship with Tammy Doyle was brutally made public. Twenty-four hours earlier he would never have thought that was possible.
Parker comes over, sits next to his desk in a handsome striped cushioned chair. Harrison turns to him and says, “Do you think she’ll do it? We’re asking a lot from her.”
Parker smiles. “You know what they say, once you have ’em by the balls, their hearts and minds will follow.”
For the first time since he left Atlanta, Harrison manages a laugh. “She’s a woman, you fool.”
His chief of staff smiles back at him from the chair. “Like you’re an expert on women. Look, she’ll do her job. You went after her based on her career. That didn’t make her budge. But I went after her personally, with her and her daughter. That was the trick.”
Harrison looks at his phone, knows at some point today he will have to reach out to Tammy Doyle. Along with the growing fear of what’s happened to Grace, there’s the shame of how he abandoned Tammy back in Atlanta, with that baying pack of reporters chasing after her. The woman he loved, tossed away, left to face those media wolves by herself. He can’t remember the last time he’s felt so ashamed.
“Where do you think Grace is?” he asks.
“Not far,” Parker says. “My guess is that she dumped her Secret Service detail at that horse farm, borrowed a pickup truck, and maybe scooted out to a motel somewhere for a good cry, or maybe a few drinks.”
“How long before we find her?”
“No worries, Mr. President,” Parker says. “She’s one of the most recognizable women on the planet. How far do you think she can go? I wouldn’t doubt it if we get this thing wrapped up by the end of the day. This Agent Grissom…I’ve read her background. She’ll get the job done.”
“Tell me about her,” he says.
“She’s been in the White House as long as you, was named head of the Presidential Protective Division last year,” Parker says. “She started out with the DC Metro Police, went to the Virginia State Police, and then joined the Secret Service. And that Iranian deal…she managed to save a man who hates her because she’s a woman working for the Great Satan. Plus, she’s kept it a secret all these years.”
Harrison says, “I don’t like what you did, threatening her…with her divorce proceedings. And her daughter. That’s not right.”
Parker says, “It got the job done.”
“I still don’t like it.”
“Then forget it, and don’t ask about it again.”
Parker Hoyt is trying to gauge what’s going on behind the steel-gray eyes of his President, and decides this is as good as any time to press him.
“Mr. President, I think Agent Grissom will do her best to locate the First Lady…but she might come up against roadblocks that will…be against her nature to try to get through. I think we need another resource, a backup, if you will.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Best you don’t know.”
The President hesitates for a moment. “Just as long as you find her.”
“And protect your presidency?” Parker asks.
He nods. “Yes. Find her and protect the presidency.”
“I’ve got it covered,” Parker says, standing up. “If you’ll excuse me, sir, I’ve got to get to my office.”
“And…the news media. We need to get something out to them.”
“I’ve got that covered, sir. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
Parker gets up and walks out of the Oval Office, through the door leading to Mrs. Young’s office, past a Hispanic Secret Service agent, and then makes a sharp right into his own office. Money, prestige, power…all coins of the realm here in DC, but what really counts is access to the President. Parker is one of the very few people in this house who can see the President at any time, without an appointment, and he’s the only one in this building who has what he has, on the corner of his desk: a private phone that doesn’t go through the White House switchboard and that took a lot of arm-twisting and name-calling to get installed over a weekend almost four years back.
He closes the door, looks to the phone. There are two numbers he could call to help him in this matter, but which one? How to choose? Both are equally dangerous.
What to do.
It reminds him of that classic short story, “The Lady, or the Tiger?”
Which door to open?
What number to call?
His office phone rings and rings, and he ignores it.
No time for regular business.
He makes a decision, opts to leave the other number for later.
Hoyt quickly dials a series of digits and it rings once and is picked up by an associate of his, from when he was working for Global Strategic Solutions.
“Yes?” a man’s voice answers.
“I need to see…Gray. Straightaway.”
“Where?”
Parker tells him.
“Hold on…”
Parker waits.
“Thirty minutes.”
“Good.”
He hangs up the private phone, thinks about what the President told him.
Find the First Lady.
Not save her, rescue her, or help her.
He just said, “Find her.”
And that’s just what he intends to do.