lifeline.
He gives me too much credit. At this point, I’m just trying to keep more corpses from popping up alive.
Lee finally lets go and walks out the door. As he tells Eve I’m to have access to both the Oval office and the adjoining private office until he gets back, and to round up whomever I need for questioning, Jack gives me a hug and a kiss on the forehead, for good luck.
Heaven knows I’ll need it.
I watch from the doorway as Evan and the men move down the hall with Lee’s Secret Service detail on their heels. Eve looks up and smiles at me. “The president has put me at your disposal. In fact, as we speak I’m running off the visitor manifest for the days in question. How else may I help?”
“Tell me the protocol for those who come into the Oval Office, and for that matter, the Roosevelt Room.”
“As they enter, guests are asked to leave their cell phones in this basket”—Eve points to the one on the credenza beside her desk—“which they slip into a plastic bag, along with a Post-It bearing their names.”
I nod. “Got it.”
“When the president buzzes my intercom to allow them into the Oval Office, I’ll open the door for them.”
“Is the same system used for meetings in the Roosevelt Room?”
“Yes, for the most part.”
“Eve, were there any security videos in action on the day in question?”
She thinks for a moment. “In the hallways, and in here”—she motions through the reception area—“yes, of course. But as far as I know, there aren’t any security cameras in either the Oval office, or the Roosevelt Room.”
What a shame.
“As soon as possible, I’d like to review the hall and reception footage, starting within twenty-four hours prior to the meeting, then twenty-four hours after. I’m sure it will take a couple of hours.”
“I’ll pull it up for you now.” she assures me. “You can watch it on the computer monitor in the president’s private study.” She points toward the door leading to a small room between the Oval Office and the West Wing dining room.
“Thank you. Please call me when it’s been set up.”
She nods and heads for her desk to make the necessary calls.
Ten minutes later, she invites me into Lee’s study. She leads me to a laptop computer, and punches in a code, giving me the access I need.
“Thank you for that, Eve. I don’t need anything else for now. However, should you run across anything that strikes you as odd taking place anywhere in the West Wing or the administrative offices, please pass forward your suspicions to me—and me alone. It is the only way to assure that the president has clean hands during our investigation. Do you understand?”
“Yes, of course.” Her firm nod reflects her resolve to live up to this unusual request.
I wait until the door closes behind her before touching the computer.
The hunt begins for a terrorist in the White House.
There is a digital folder on the laptop computer’s screen. Inside of it are four video files: one that records the Oval Office reception area itself; one of the hallway between the Oval Office reception area and the Roosevelt Room; another of the anteroom between the West Wing’s lobby and the press secretary’s office that leads to the Roosevelt Room. The final one recorded the hallway leading from the chief of staff’s office to the Oval Office, which has a door leading in to the Roosevelt Room.
A subtle choreography unfolds between the various security feeds: between the frantically paced comings and goings of the West Wing’s metaphorical corps de ballet —administrative staffers whose steps are quickened with the urgency of the nation’s business. But my eyes seek out the principal dancers—that is to say our persons-of-interest. I’m eager to see who they will be.
Even if they take their solos offstage, the time stamps on the breaches should give me clues as to who performed an espionage arabesque.
The set-up of the room commenced
He gives me too much credit. At this point, I’m just trying to keep more corpses from popping up alive.
Lee finally lets go and walks out the door. As he tells Eve I’m to have access to both the Oval office and the adjoining private office until he gets back, and to round up whomever I need for questioning, Jack gives me a hug and a kiss on the forehead, for good luck.
Heaven knows I’ll need it.
I watch from the doorway as Evan and the men move down the hall with Lee’s Secret Service detail on their heels. Eve looks up and smiles at me. “The president has put me at your disposal. In fact, as we speak I’m running off the visitor manifest for the days in question. How else may I help?”
“Tell me the protocol for those who come into the Oval Office, and for that matter, the Roosevelt Room.”
“As they enter, guests are asked to leave their cell phones in this basket”—Eve points to the one on the credenza beside her desk—“which they slip into a plastic bag, along with a Post-It bearing their names.”
I nod. “Got it.”
“When the president buzzes my intercom to allow them into the Oval Office, I’ll open the door for them.”
“Is the same system used for meetings in the Roosevelt Room?”
“Yes, for the most part.”
“Eve, were there any security videos in action on the day in question?”
She thinks for a moment. “In the hallways, and in here”—she motions through the reception area—“yes, of course. But as far as I know, there aren’t any security cameras in either the Oval office, or the Roosevelt Room.”
What a shame.
“As soon as possible, I’d like to review the hall and reception footage, starting within twenty-four hours prior to the meeting, then twenty-four hours after. I’m sure it will take a couple of hours.”
“I’ll pull it up for you now.” she assures me. “You can watch it on the computer monitor in the president’s private study.” She points toward the door leading to a small room between the Oval Office and the West Wing dining room.
“Thank you. Please call me when it’s been set up.”
She nods and heads for her desk to make the necessary calls.
Ten minutes later, she invites me into Lee’s study. She leads me to a laptop computer, and punches in a code, giving me the access I need.
“Thank you for that, Eve. I don’t need anything else for now. However, should you run across anything that strikes you as odd taking place anywhere in the West Wing or the administrative offices, please pass forward your suspicions to me—and me alone. It is the only way to assure that the president has clean hands during our investigation. Do you understand?”
“Yes, of course.” Her firm nod reflects her resolve to live up to this unusual request.
I wait until the door closes behind her before touching the computer.
The hunt begins for a terrorist in the White House.
There is a digital folder on the laptop computer’s screen. Inside of it are four video files: one that records the Oval Office reception area itself; one of the hallway between the Oval Office reception area and the Roosevelt Room; another of the anteroom between the West Wing’s lobby and the press secretary’s office that leads to the Roosevelt Room. The final one recorded the hallway leading from the chief of staff’s office to the Oval Office, which has a door leading in to the Roosevelt Room.
A subtle choreography unfolds between the various security feeds: between the frantically paced comings and goings of the West Wing’s metaphorical corps de ballet —administrative staffers whose steps are quickened with the urgency of the nation’s business. But my eyes seek out the principal dancers—that is to say our persons-of-interest. I’m eager to see who they will be.
Even if they take their solos offstage, the time stamps on the breaches should give me clues as to who performed an espionage arabesque.
The set-up of the room commenced
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