State of the Onion (22 page)

As Sargeant waited for Kasim to translate, he stepped to his right. There were white-clad sous-chefs and assistants in every corner of the space, everyone busy. The clatter of pans, the brief barked questions and orders, and the sizzle as vegetables were dropped into searing olive oil made it difficult to hear over the din.

Kasim leaned close to the princess, who tonight wore a beaded orange
burqa
, again in full headdress. I couldn't make out her features beneath the chiffonlike fabric, but every so often the air current would press the material against her face, giving a sense of the shape of her features. Still, not enough for me to determine whether she'd be considered attractive or not. If a groom wasn't allowed to see his prospective wife before the wedding, it could make for an interesting honeymoon.

Kasim towered over the small woman, holding his beard to the side whenever he leaned down to speak to her. I wondered if he did so because his beard wasn't allowed to graze the princess's coverings, even accidentally.

“Good evening,” Kasim said to us. “I trust that our visit does not adversely impact your preparations for tomorrow.”

“Not at all,” I lied.

Henry whispered, “You handle this, I'll keep the troops busy.”

Although we'd sent about half the temporary staff home for the night, with strict instructions not to be late tomorrow morning, we still had more people busy in the kitchen than the small area could comfortably handle. The presence of Kasim, the princess, and Sargeant limited our ability to access certain areas.

Kasim held his hands clasped together at his waist. “The princess appreciates you taking the time to show her around and share your plans for tomorrow.”

The princess stood in front of Kasim, Sargeant behind. Now, the sensitivity director was poking his head around Kasim's figure, giving me the evil eye.

Like I wouldn't know how to respond without his input. “I'm delighted to do so,” I said. “What would the princess like to see first?”

Kasim didn't consult her. They must have discussed the matter before they arrived. “Princess Hessa is most pleased with your choices for tomorrow night's dinner. She would be very interested to sample the cucumber appetizer.”

Lucky for us, we always made extra of everything. The item she wanted to taste, Cucumber Slices Stuffed with Feta and Pine Nuts, was being worked on by one of our Muslim assistants, so I led her, Kasim, and Sargeant around the busy assistants to where a tray of items was being prepared.

Just as I was about to pull a completed cucumber slice from the tray, xylophone music pierced the air.

“What's that?” I asked.

The princess reached into her
burqa
with her right hand, and pulled out a cell phone. She answered with a murmur, and held her left hand over her ear.

“Perhaps you should escort the princess to the hallway,” I whispered to Sargeant.

To my surprise, he took the suggestion.

I turned to Kasim. “I didn't realize the princess carried a cell phone.”

If eyebrows could shrug, his did. “Do you not have one?” he asked, as he pulled a cell phone from beneath his flowing robes. “I carry mine always. As a travel facilitator, it is imperative that I am always able to be reached.”

“I do have one,” I said, flustered. I realized my gaffe. Because Kasim and the princess came from a Middle Eastern country, I'd made the erroneous assumption that their access to technology was far behind ours. The phone Kasim tucked away, and the one the princess had used, both looked to be state-of-the-art. “What I mean to say is that I didn't realize they worked here. That is, mine doesn't work when I leave the country. Are these the same cell phones you use at home?”

“I understand your confusion. As diplomats, we are required to avail ourselves of technology that spans international borders.” He lifted one shoulder. “These are special telephones. The princess insisted on acquiring one before we departed. She is concerned about her children's well-being while she is away. This is one of the reasons she did not prefer to stay at Camp David.” He gave a regretful smile. “There was no signal there. And she is quite the devoted mother. She is often in contact with her family.”

The devoted mother and Sargeant returned just then. Within minutes I'd walked her through the preparation of the filling for the appetizer without her saying a word. I offered her one to sample, but she waved me away, stepping backward as she did so. Her braceleted wrist jangled bright silver and gold.

Realizing that she might be uncomfortable consuming food in our presence, I offered to package up some of the appetizers for her to enjoy back at Blair House. Kasim translated.

She shook her hands at me again.

There was no pleasing this woman. Nor a chance of getting her to speak aloud.

“What time will you be here tomorrow morning?” Sargeant asked me. “Not late again, I hope.”

“Henry and I will be here before the sun comes up,” I said.

“How long are you staying tonight?”

Henry joined us. “Is there a reason you need to know?”

Good old Henry, rushing to my rescue.

Flustered, Sargeant stammered. “I…I'm concerned about leaving temporary help here unsupervised.”

Henry's wide face split into a grin. But it wasn't a happy one. “That will never happen.”

“You understand,” Sargeant said, “what with heightened security…we can't afford to take chances.”

“As I said, you can put your mind at ease. But Ollie and I don't plan to stay past ten this evening. We don't want to be exhausted for the big event tomorrow.”

Kasim interrupted to ask Sargeant a question. I gathered that the princess was ready to return to Blair House. I'd learned my lesson; I didn't offer her any food. As they spoke, Henry edged closer to me. “I'm worried about you getting home tonight. How about I take the Metro with you and make sure you get in safe? I can call a cab from there.”

“Henry, my apartment is ridiculously out of your way,” I said, “that's not a good idea.”

“It's not that bad,” he said. “I don't like the idea of you traveling alone at night, any night. With recent events, you shouldn't be left alone at all.”

“I'm okay.”

“Olivia,” he said.

With a sidelong glance to Sargeant, who appeared to be oblivious to our conversation as he chatted with Kasim, I spoke in a low voice. “I've got someone taking me home tonight,” I said.

Henry's eyebrows shot upward. “Who?”

I bit my lip, rolled my eyes, then whispered, “One of the…guys.”

Henry said, “Ahh,” and grinned at me. “I understand.” He winked. “Your secret is safe with me.”

I looked up to see Sargeant, Kasim, and the princess watching us. Oh great. So much for keeping secrets. Thank goodness I hadn't mentioned Tom by name.

Sargeant eyed me with distaste. But I was getting used to it. “The princess will be leaving now,” he said. “Kasim and I will accompany her back to Blair House.”

“Good night,” we said as the trio left.

Kasim nodded. “And to you.”

The princess and Sargeant kept walking without a word.

WHEN THE LAST POSSIBLE TASK THAT COULD be done, was done, and all the temporary help had gone home, I called Tom. Past midnight, our quitting time was far later than Henry had estimated.

The phone rang twice, then went to voice mail. I left Tom a vague message about being ready to leave.

Henry shuffled in from the other room, yawning. He had his jacket on. “Problem?” he asked.

“No, just a delay.”

He considered this, then started for the kitchen's stool. “I'll wait with you.”

“That's okay,” I said. “I'm sure he'll call back any minute now. He made me promise not to go home alone, so don't worry. He'll be here. Just a little bit tardy.”

One eye narrowed. “You wouldn't be telling a fib just to let the old man go home early and grab some shut-eye, would you?”

“No,” I said, “I swear.”

“Okay then.” Relief tugged a smile out of him, but weariness pulled harder. He was exhausted and tomorrow promised to be twice as busy as today had been. We both needed to get some sleep, and there was no sense in both of us waiting for me to be picked up. “You're sure?”

I'd been in this situation with Tom a hundred times before. If he was on duty he couldn't always answer his phone. But he remained aware and always called me back at his earliest opportunity. I forced a smile, knowing that it sometimes took him over an hour to get back to me. “I'm sure,” I said.

Fifteen minutes after Henry left, I was still sitting in the too-quiet kitchen, waiting. Despite the fact that this place for all intents and purposes was my second home, I shivered. The hum of the refrigeration units, the occasional
whoosh
of machinery nearby, oddball sounds—they were just part of the background during the day. Now each sounded loud as a shout, and every time some device kicked on, or off, I jumped.

I dialed Tom again.

“Ollie,” he answered.

“Did you get my message?”

“Just now. I was listening to it when you beeped in.”

There was something weird in his voice.

“What's wrong?” I asked.

“I…” He swore. “It's a bad time right now.”

“Oh,” I said not knowing what to do with that information. “Do you want to call me back?”

He swore a second time. I heard a toilet flush.

“You're in the bathroom?” I asked.

“My only chance to check my phone. Listen, Ollie, I…I can't get away tonight.”

“You can't?” I looked at the clock. Nearly one in the morning. The Metro stopped running at midnight.

“I'm so sorry. Is there anyone else you can call?”

I started to answer, but over the rushing water I heard a male voice call, “MacKenzie, let's go.”

“I'll be okay,” I said.

“Ollie—”

“Go,” I said. “It'll be okay.”

I hung up feeling lonelier than I ever had before.

Had I known this, I might've taken Henry up on his offer to see me home safely. But, no use crying over spilled sauerkraut. This wasn't the first time I'd worked past Metro hours. I zipped through my cell's phone book until I found the speed dial for the Red Top Cab company and requested a car be sent right away.

The dispatcher told me it would be just a few minutes. I set out for Fifteenth Street to wait.

Before I cleared the gates, I turned back to look at the White House. The heart of the nation, at night.

Beautiful.

And, right now, peaceful.

I thought about the negotiating country's delegates, still at Camp David tonight. Probably asleep right now. Had they reached an accord? Would the state dinner celebrate new trade agreements that could herald the dawn of peace? I stared up at the sky, wishing I could see more of the stars, but still comforted knowing they were there. Despite the fact that I wore soft-soled shoes, my footsteps brushed against the pavement so loudly. They rang out evidence of my passage, and it made me feel vulnerable.

The statue of General William Tecumseh Sherman atop his horse provided a place for me to park myself to wait for the taxi's arrival. All four of the horse's hooves rested on the ground. An urban legend had begun—I didn't know when or where—suggesting that the placement of a horse's hooves on a statue tells how the rider died. All four on the ground indicated that Sherman died a peaceful death, which was true—if dying of pneumonia could be considered peaceful.

Not all statues were “correct” as far as this legend was concerned, but as I sat on the cement steps I was glad of the thought. Concentrating on peace kept me from panicking.

Then I thought about Sherman's “scorched earth” initiatives.

Not so peaceful.

I stood.

A high-pitched squeal to my left made me jump. A homeless man, bearded and shuffling, pulled an overstuffed wheeled cart in his wake.

He didn't approach me and for that I was grateful. With the Chameleon known for his ability to alter his appearance and blend into the background, I might've decked the guy if he asked me for loose change.

Thirty seconds later, the cab pulled up. Right on schedule. I scooted in. The dark-skinned driver nodded when I gave him my address. Before I closed the door, I asked him how late Red Top provided service, even though I already knew they ran twenty-four hours a day.

I just wanted a look at the guy.

When he answered me, I stared, paying no attention to his words, but close attention to his features. Not the guy at the merry-go-round. Not the guy at Arlington. I was being paranoid, but if it kept me safe, so be it. Contented, I realized I'd been gawking when an extended pause and a peculiar expression on the guy's face brought me back to the present. He'd asked a question.