A Hideous Beauty Kingdom Wars I Part 15

As it turned out, I got lucky. Christina came home before midnight. I had to wait only three hours.

She walked with her head down, preoccupied. As she started up the steps, I moved out of the shadows. "h.e.l.lo, Christina."

Startled, her hand flew into her purse rummaging for a container of Mace.

"Christina, it's me."

Her hand continued its search.

"Christina?"

"Grant! It's you! You scared me!" She glanced up and down the street. "Didn't you get my note?" she said. "I told you not to contact me!"

I approached her, keeping a wary eye on the hand in the purse. It had slowed, but was still groping.

"We need to-"

She pushed me back into the shadows. Her voice low, her eyes menacing, she said, "Go away!" She started up the stairs, her keys dangling.

I followed her.

Mid-step, she swung around. "What are you doing?"

I thought she was just peeved at me for leaving all those messages, but this was beyond peeved. She was scared.

"Christina, can't we-"

She pushed me back a step. "Go away!"

"Not until you tell me what's going on!"

"Not now!" She stepped into me, grabbed my s.h.i.+rt, and yanked me close. "Not now!" she hissed.

Again, she was looking up and down the street.

"OK, if not now, when?"

She pushed me down a step. "I'll call you," she whispered, inserting the key into the hallway door.

"OK . . . when?" I took a step up.

She opened the door, but didn't go in. "I told you, I'd call you!" she said. Reaching down, she pulled me up the steps to the landing. "Go!" she cried. "I can't be seen with you!" She shoved me back.

Christina has always been good at keeping me off balance, that's one of the things that attracted me to her, but this little pus.h.i.+ng-and-shoving routine had me thoroughly confused.

Her apartment was the first door on the left. She jabbed repeatedly at the lock with her key.

"Christina, what do you want?"

"I want you to leave!" she said, forcing the key into the lock.

"All right, I'll go. Can you just tell me who-"

She lunged toward me, grabbed my s.h.i.+rt, and pulled me into the hallway.

"Christina, what are you-"

"Shus.h.!.+"

"But this is crazy!" I whispered.

"Shus.h.!.+ Shus.h.!.+ Shus.h.!.+"

Her apartment door swung open.

"For the last time, go away!" she shouted, shoving me inside her apartment.

She double-checked the hallway, then slammed the door and fell back against it, her chest rising and falling as though she had just done a wild sprint across the White House lawn with dogs chasing her.

Frenzy doesn't look good on Christina. Frantic, but in control, is her style. This temporary madness didn't suit her. I gave her the time she needed to collect herself.

Her blond hair, parted over her left eye, fell in parenthetical curves framing a face with intelligent eyes and a sensuous mouth. The necklace she was wearing brought a smile to my face. I'd picked it up in France for her during the economic summit. It was a gold collar with a single dangling pendant. I'm not usually good with gifts, but I thought I'd done a good job with this one. The necklace was simple and elegant. Simple for me; elegant for her.

"You can't stay," she said.

"Will you at least tell me what's going on? n.o.body will take my calls. My White House credentials have been revoked. What have I done?"

"That's what I want to know! What have you done?"

She pushed past me, dropped her purse at the base of a hat rack, and kicked off her shoes. "On Sunday I drop you off at the airport. You tell me you're giving a speech at a high school."

"My alma mater."

"And the next thing I know memos are flocking like pigeons telling everyone we're not to have any contact with you for any reason; that if you attempt to contact us we're to notify the chief of staff immediately."

"Did you?" I asked. "Notify Ingraham?"

"Are you kidding? Even before you started your phone-solicitor routine, he pulled me into his office and grilled me."

"Grilled you?"

"He wanted to know if I'd heard from you, when I spoke to you last, when I saw you last, dated you last. He asked me if I ever knew you to be part of a subversive, anti-American organization, or partic.i.p.ated in any subversive activities."

"What?" I couldn't believe this.

"He wanted to know if you've ever spoken in subversive fas.h.i.+on or taken me to any anti-American rallies."

"This is crazy!"

"Then, he made me hand him my personal cell phone and ordered me to tell him my PIN number so that he could listen to my messages. I felt like I was a teenager at home all over again."

"He can't do that!"

"You're kidding, right? You don't tell Chief of Staff Harold Ingraham what he can and can't do."

"Christina, you have to believe me, had I known . . . I had no idea . . . I never would have . . . How many messages were on there?"

"Luckily, only one. The blitzkrieg came later. When it did, I checked my messages every fifteen minutes and immediately deleted them. Finally, I turned off the answering service."

"That was smart."

"You don't work your way into the West Wing without learning how to watch your back."

"I had no idea it was this bad," I said by way of apology.

"Grant, what have you gotten yourself involved in? Everyone is paranoid. They've all taken your book off their shelves. They avoid me and whisper behind my back."

"I'm as stumped as you are."

I meandered into the alcove. The windows faced the street. Christina had turned it into a book nook. Beneath the windows are bench bookshelves stocked with her favorite t.i.tles. In preparation for my trip to Europe, she had taught me key French phrases here.

Headlights flashed against the windows, and the next thing I knew, Christina dove to the hardwood floor and, grabbing my back pocket, pulled me down with her.

Yeah, the side the dog bit.

A stab of pain from my back forty nearly made me pa.s.s out. I was definitely going to have to tell her about the injury.

While I tried to keep from pa.s.sing out, Christina crawled to the windows and pulled the draperies closed.

"Was that really necessary?" I cried.

I started to get up. She pushed me back down and joined me. We lay on our sides facing each other.

"Grant, I'm really scared," she said.

She was. I felt guilty. It was time to give her a few pieces of the puzzle.

"While I was in California, I learned of a threat against the president's life. An a.s.sa.s.sination plot."

"Grant! This is huge! Why didn't you tell me?"

If I weren't hurting so badly I would have laughed.

Realizing the ridiculousness of the protest, she waved it off. "I mean, I thought you were going to a high school. Where did you hear-"

My cell phone rang. The anonymous-caller tone. It was in my floor-side pocket. I started to roll over on my back to get it, remembered my injury, then rolled over onto my stomach and retrieved the phone. The display had a number I didn't recognize. I did, however, recognize the area code. Six one nine. San Diego. "I need to take this," I said.

"Who is it?"

"I don't know." I flipped open the phone. "h.e.l.lo?"

"Grant?"

I'd only heard an afternoon's worth of her voice, and then mostly angry tones, but I'd heard enough to recognize it. "Miss Ling," I said.

"Is this a bad time?"

I took stock of the moment. I was lying on the floor of my former girlfriend's apartment hiding from anonymous headlights while trying to explain to her that an old high school rival, who was possibly dead, was trying to kill the president of the United States and, for reasons unknown, implicate me in the plot.

"Not at all, Miss Ling," I said.

Her head propped in her hand, Christina watched me with interest.

"Maybe you should call me Sue," Miss Ling said.

"All right . . . Sue."

Christina rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"You didn't show up at the library this morning," Sue said.

"Um . . . no, I didn't. I had to return to Was.h.i.+ngton. Urgent business. Unexpected."

"More urgent than meeting an angel from heaven?"

I tried to sit up. It hurt too much, so I returned to my side, squirming to get comfortable. "Did he show up?" I asked.

"No. Not in the library."

I knew it! I grinned victoriously. "Somehow, I'm not surprised," I said.

"He visited the professor earlier, though."

"Earlier. Convenient. When no one else was around."

"I a.s.sume the professor was alone. I didn't ask. Abdiel didn't come to the library because he knew you'd returned to Was.h.i.+ngton."

She knew I was in Was.h.i.+ngton. When Jana called, she thought I was still in San Diego. I grinned. Miss Ling had talked to Jana. That's how she knew I'd returned home.

I played along. "It makes sense he'd know I'd returned to Was.h.i.+ngton," I said. "Angels are pretty well connected."

Christina frowned. "Angels?" she mouthed.

I shrugged.

Getting up in a huff, she went to the kitchen. The light came on and cabinet doors opened and closed.

It was awkward talking on the phone on my side. I tried to sit up. A yelp of pain erupted from my lips.