President Manning turned to study him. Griffin had always liked working for the man. The popular president was demanding, but fair. And he never took advantage of his position to demean those in service to him. But Griffin hadn’t seen the president since the incident with his daughter-in-law. He had no doubt the president had been briefed on the situation. Griffin just didn’t know whose side the man would take.
The president’s face softened slightly and he jerked his chin to indicate the Queen’s Sitting Room where he’d just come from. “She’s with my wife.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. President,” the director said. “But protocol demands we return the chef to the safe house. If our suspect figures out we sent Agent Pannell instead of the chef, he could return here to look for her.”
“Yes, but you’ve got this place locked down like a fortress,” the president argued. “Surely he wouldn’t risk coming back again.”
“He’s penetrated our security at least three times that we know of,” the director countered. “That’s three more times than he should have. We’re working every scenario trying to figure out how he’s getting in and I know we’re close to answering that question, but until then, we have to stick to the protocol. I can allow the chef to accompany you to Camp David, however, if you’d like to take your family there.” The director looked as though he wanted to beg the president to choose that option.
“The president can’t leave Washington tonight,” his chief of staff interjected. “Not while Congress is voting on his new jobs initiative. It will look as if we’re not supporting those members who are sponsoring it.”
“What good is being the damn President of the United States if I can’t ever do things my way?”
His chief of staff chuckled. “You wouldn’t be the first commander in chief to ask that question.”
“Fine,” the president said. “But I want this guy caught. This ends tonight.”
“We’ll do our best, sir,” the director replied.
The president turned to head back to the sitting room. “Now I have to go break it to my wife and her goddaughter that we have to send her back.”
“I’ll do it,” Griffin said.
Adam’s hand was on Griffin’s arm before he took a step. “Easy, buddy,” his friend whispered. “We’re closing in on the guy that could break your case wide open. Keep your eye on the prize. Let FLOTUS console her. Marin will be kept safe.”
The president looked at Griffin curiously. Griffin shook off Adam’s hand. He needed to know for himself that Marin was okay. Then he would go catch her tormentor. “I want to be at the meeting place,” he told the director. “I need Salenko alive and talking so I can ferret out the rest of this counterfeiting ring.”
The director nodded. Adam sighed loudly.
“I just have one thing to take care of first,” Griffin said.
“Get your gear on and meet me in my office in twenty minutes,” the director ordered.
The president gestured for Griffin to walk with him to the sitting room.
“Marin wants to speak with her family,” Griffin mentioned. “It would go a long way toward making her feel better about this whole situation.”
“I agree,” the president replied. “Admiral, can you arrange a secure line for Marin to call home?”
The chief usher nodded.
“Marin’s well-being is our first priority, Agent Keller. Even after this issue is resolved.”
Griffin let President Manning’s warning sink in as they entered the area of the White House known as the Queen’s Sitting Room. Part of him was relieved that Marin had a champion aside from him to keep her safe. But the other part of him wanted to tell the President of the United States to mind his own damn business.
The late day sunlight was streaming through the window, casting a patchwork of shadows across the floor. Marin sat on a wide sofa that doubled as a daybed. She was reading a book aloud to the president’s granddaughter who was listening intently while lounging against Otto. The First Lady sat across from them sipping white wine. She glanced up at her husband expectantly. He shook his head.
Clearly agitated, Mrs. Manning sprung up from her chair. “I trusted that woman, Cal. With our precious granddaughter. And this is what she does?” she whispered furiously once she’d reached her husband. “Stealing from our country and threatening Marin? The worst thing that ever happened to us was Clark bringing Farrah home. I don’t know what he ever saw in that woman. I wish he’d never married her.”
The president glanced past his wife, fixing his gaze on the dark-haired little girl sitting with Marin. “I’m hopeful our son saw something in Farrah other than her long legs and good looks. But wishing that he’d never married her would be wishing away Arabelle.”
The First Lady wiped at her eyes. “I know. I’m sorry. Arabelle is the only good thing that’s come out of this situation. She’ll be devastated when she finds out her grandmother is an art thief.” She turned to Griffin. “But she’ll be even more upset if something happens to Bita. You have to bring her back, Agent Keller. Despite what she is, I know Bita adores Arabelle. There has to be some explanation for this. And I for one want to hear it.”
Griffin never liked to make promises with regard to an op. Anything could go wrong, even when one was well planned out. Promises only jinxed things. “I’ll do my best, ma’am,” he said.
Mrs. Manning looked as though she was going to say more, but her husband stepped in.
“Agent Keller and his team will do what they have to do,” the president interjected. “Including protecting Marin.”