Red Dot: Contact. Will the gravest threat come from closer to home than we expect? (19 page)

“Oh my.”

“I agree,” said Douthart as they shared a laugh.

They sat, smiling, looking at each other for several minutes. But there was no awkwardness in the silence as they took in each other’s appearance.
My God, she’s pretty
, Douthart thought.
What pretty green eyes, a little blue. She’s so smart and understanding. It’s just so nice to talk with her
.

I didn’t realize he was so handsome
, Claire thought.
I read he works out a lot. It shows. What a warm and caring face. I just want to go up and hug him
.

Finally the President broke the silence. “I guess this is where one of us usually asks the other one on a date.”

“Any good movies playing?” Claire said with a smile. As they sat in silence for a few more minutes, the realization came to both of them that they
couldn’t
take the next step in their relationship—not yet. The President was under crushing pressure, with D9 just days from orbit and with political enemies criticizing his every move.

After a pause, Claire said, “I don’t suppose we’ll be going for a night on the town any time soon.”

“No, I’m afraid not,” said Douthart, smiling and shaking his head. “But for the next few weeks—or however long this D9 thing lasts—as long as we can see each other and talk with each other now and then, we’ll get by.”

“Yes, we will,” said Claire, rising from her chair, thinking that she’d better go now before it got too hard. She and the President walked slowly to the door of the Oval Office, where they stopped, and Douthart reached out and took her left hand. They looked at each other for a few seconds before Claire said, with some hesitation, “Mr. President…”

Douthart smiled and stopped her. “I think we’re beyond the Mr.-President stage.”

“Al,” Claire said as a smile spread across her face, “I want to kiss you.” They leaned forward and their lips touched. Still holding Claire’s left hand, the President softly put his left hand on her shoulder; Claire placed her right hand on his shoulder.

The touch of Claire’s lips, the smell of her hair and breath, and the warmth of her hand on his shoulder blocked everything else out of Douthart’s mind.

When she had time to look back, Claire relished the memory of the first meaningful and satisfying physical contact she’d had with a man in more than six years, since Sam’s father surrendered to drug addiction.

After a few seconds, they stepped back, and Douthart opened the door. Slowly Claire turned and began to walk away. “Good night,” she said, looking back with a slight smile.

Douthart watched her for a few seconds and then abruptly said, “Wait, Claire. I changed my mind.”

As Claire watched him in puzzlement, he said, “I
will
ask you on a date. Would you like to have dinner with me, here, now?”

After Claire returned and took a seat in the Oval Office, the President explained that he had kept up an old habit after he moved into the White
House of occasionally raiding the kitchen when he was working late to fix an evening snack.

Kitchen staff routinely left some of Douthart’s favorite dishes ready for one of his evening visits.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said. “Don’t expect anything fancy, but it’s really good.”

“I can’t wait,” said Claire, smiling. As she sat alone on a sofa in the office, she began to wonder when their next date would be. With the chaos surrounding the approach of D9, it could be weeks or even months.
I’m just going to enjoy our date tonight
, she thought.

The President returned in about ten minutes, carrying a tray full of food. He set the tray down on a coffee table between the two sofas and lifted it back up to allow Claire to get the empty tray that was underneath.

“I warned you not to expect anything fancy,” he said as he placed dishes and silverware on Claire’s tray. “It’s really simple stuff, but it hits the spot for me.”

“It does look good,” said Claire as she looked at a bowl of thick, rich-looking tomato soup and the makings for a turkey sandwich. “I have to admit, I am pretty hungry.

“Hmm, yes,” she said as she tasted a spoonful of tomato soup before putting lettuce and tomato together for her sandwich. “Sammie would love this,” she said after finishing the first mouthful of turkey sandwich. “He’s my son.”

Geez, that was subtle
, she thought as she looked across the coffee table to see the President’s reaction.

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” he said. “This is the kind of stuff I loved as a kid.” After his infatuation with Claire started, he’d asked around—casually, he hoped—and found out about Sammie and his father. So this wasn’t a surprise to him.

“Maybe we can get him up here sometime, to Al’s Diner,” the President said.

Real slick, Al
, he thought.

Douthart and Claire ate hungrily in silence for a few minutes.

“Oh, this is scrumptious,” exclaimed Claire after tasting the smoothie Douthart had poured for her. “It’s got some peach in it, but otherwise I’ve never tasted anything like it.”

“This is kind of unusual,” Douthart said. “Peach, banana, and gooseberry.”

“Gooseberries?” asked a surprised Claire.

“You have to have just the right amount of bananas or the gooseberries will make it too tart.”

“My compliments to the chef,” said Claire.

“What about the server?” the President asked, and they both laughed.

They sat back on their sofas, full, and looked fondly at each other for a few moments.

“You’ve got a son, too, don’t you?” said Claire.

“I sure do.” The President rose and picked up the picture he had on his desk of Ted.

“This is Ted,” he said, showing Claire the picture. “He’s a wonderful kid. You just couldn’t ask for…” He paused as tears rolled down his cheeks. “For a better son.” Douthart covered his eyes with his right hand as he began to sob.

“Sorry,” he managed to say as Claire looked on with concern.

Douthart started wiping the tears off his face, picked up a napkin, and loudly blew his nose.

After a few minutes of silence, he looked up and said, “Oh man. Where did that come from?”

“I don’t know, but I think it’s contagious,” Claire said as she dabbed tears off her cheeks.

“I hope most of your dates are more fun than this,” said the President as he and Claire wiped the last tears from their cheeks.

They both laughed and began chatting about how the Vice President and Secretary of State had set them up on this blind date. Soon, without knowing it, they lapsed into silence and observed each other more intently than before.

How nice would it be to unbutton her blouse
, thought Douthart.
Her breasts are gorgeous
.

Where would we do it?
wondered Claire, after mentally undressing the President and pushing aside worries about having no protection. Her eyes rested for an instant on the sofa the President was sitting on. Then she looked up and her eyes met Douthart’s.

With a jolt of embarrassment, they realized they were both thinking the same thing.

For a few minutes, they sat back and avoided looking at each other. “We really…” Douthart began to say as he turned to look at Claire.

“Right, it’s just not the time,” said Claire, finishing the President’s statement. “If we jump to that level, no way we can keep it secret. Your ability to lead…”

“And you’d be fired or demoted just when we need your expertise the most,” Douthart said.

They looked at each other for a minute with embarrassed smiles.

“Anyway, that was an interesting moment,” said Claire as the President smiled and nodded in agreement.

“To be continued,” he said.

They looked at each other fondly for a minute or two.

“Well, I think we better call it a night. Mom and Dad will be wondering if I’m all right,” said Douthart, referring to Duggard and Whiteton.

After another goodnight kiss at the Oval Office door, the President walked back in to call the Vice President and Secretary of State.

The Vice President and Secretary of State sat in Duggard’s office, consumed by worry because they hadn’t heard from the President for such a long time. They even talked about going over to the Oval Office to see if there was any problem.

They were staring blankly at a news program on a wall-mounted TV when the phone rang on the White House line. With a knot in her stomach, the Vice President said, “This is it,” and put the call on speakerphone. “Mr. President?”

“Yes,” Douthart answered, and then paused for a few tense moments. “Douglas, are you there? Are you part of this?”

“Yes, Mr. President, I’m afraid I am,” Whiteton said in a deep and solemn voice.

“First, I hate being manipulated,” the President said. Duggard started to mutter an apology when the President interrupted, “But I have to admit that
this
time, I’m glad what happened, happened.”

The Vice President nodded in relief to Whiteton and began apologizing. “We hated to do it, Mr. President, but we only did what we thought was best for you.”

“All right, all right, it’s done,” said the President. His tone quickly shifted from peeved to happy as he said, “It went pretty much as you probably hoped it would.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful, Al, for you and for Dr. Montague,” Duggard said.

“Well, we understand how we both feel, and that’s great. But we’re not really an item yet. The time isn’t right, and Claire understands that. People like Fitzgerald would love to undermine me by claiming I’m having a steamy affair instead of protecting the American people from disaster.”

“Was it steamy?” Duggard asked. Lengthening silence on the other end of the line told her that the President was angry now. He usually enjoyed the casual, sometimes crude teasing he and Duggard often engaged in, but not this time. “I’m sorry, Al, that went too far.”

“I will give you this much: It wasn’t steamy; it was sweet.”

“Sweet is nice,” Duggard said, exchanging a glance with Whiteton.

“Now you guys are out of my private life for good,” the President said emphatically.

After a few moments, in a subdued voice, he continued, “But in a way, it probably didn’t go the way you two had hoped. Claire and I are closer, but I am not magically transformed into super-President, ready for anything. Confronting Fitzgerald and his crowd still scares the crap out of me. And then in a few days, there’s the ETs coming with crazy technology to do whatever it is they’re going to do… I’ll just do what I can. Tomorrow, I’ll have it out with Fitzgerald and be done with him.”

“That’s all anyone can ask,” said Duggard.

Whiteton added, “You know we’ll support you all the way, Mr. President. Do you want one of us to accompany you to meet Fitzgerald?”

“No. I want him to know it’s the head man’s decision and it’s final.”

The President sketched out a plan with Duggard and Whiteton for them to meet with Chief of Staff Aaron Tejeda in the White House in the morning to prepare a media release. Then the Vice President would brief leaders in Congress while the Secretary of State handled contacts with international leaders in advance of a speech by the President around 1:00 that afternoon.

After the President hung up, Duggard and Whiteton sat and relaxed for a few minutes. “Well, that could have gone a lot worse,” the Secretary of State said.

“I’m really happy for him, personally,” Duggard said. “As for his state of mind, we’re not out of the woods yet, but at least he’s going to give it a shot.”

“After we meet Aaron tomorrow, I’m going to the Pentagon to see if Fitzgerald is stirring anything up,” Whiteon said.

Duggard nodded and said, “We’ll keep in touch.”

One of the first things the President did the next morning—Wednesday, October 12, four days before D9 was to begin orbiting Earth—was to call Claire and ask her to come to the White House at noon to brief him before his speech to the nation scheduled for early afternoon. To an outsider, the conversation might have seemed matter-of-fact, with a little small talk. But when they spoke, they clung to each word as they saw each other’s image and felt each other’s touch from the night before.

“I’m going to remove Secretary Fitzgerald from office this morning,” Douthart said. Claire felt a stab of anxiety. She knew the Defense Secretary had become a serious opponent in the Cabinet, and recalled that he had seemed to want her to falsify NASA reports to make D9 appear more threatening. She also realized that Fitzgerald had powerful backers in the media, politics, and military.