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“Mr. President, I agree with Nate,” Nancy McNally said. “There’s nothing to be gained politically from Channing’s release, but you gain diplomatic currency with African nations by letting Khundhar keep him.”
Nate had entered the meeting knowing Nancy and he would be a united front on this issue. That didn’t mean President Bartlett was going to act on their counsel.
The President turned to Nate and asked, “Nate, you’re sure it wasn’t a kangaroo court?”
“I’m assured it was a fair and impartial trial, Mr. President,” Nate replied with an emphatic nod. “The proceedings were almost entirely transparent and embassy staff had ready and frequent contact with Channing.”
“I have little doubt all of you are right, and I appreciate your input,” the President said. He stood from his chair, signaling the end of the meeting. “I want to give it a little more thought before I take an official stance.”
They all stood, each murmuring a respectful, “Thank you, Mr. President,” and turned to file out of the Oval Office.
“A word, Nate?” President Bartlett said, startling Nate.
“Of course, sir,” Nate stopped several feet from the French doors leading to the terrace. He clasped his portfolio with both hands, holding it almost shield-like in front of his body. He was aware of what he was doing, but couldn’t help it. This was The President.
“This is probably the easiest mess I’ve made you sort out in the last year,” President Bartlett said, smiling.
“Yes, sir, Mr. President,” Nate concurred, allowing himself a small answering smile. “The sudden onslaught of popular revolutions in socialist nations took me by surprise, I admit.”
“You handled it all better than I could have asked. Thank you, for all your hard work.”
As always, President Bartlett’s praise warmed Nate. “It’s an honor to serve, sir, and I’m glad you’re pleased with my work.”
“Tell me, Nate,” the President buried his hands in his trouser pockets, “now that everyone else has left the room; do you believe we should leave Channing to serve time in a Khundhar prison?”
“I do, Mr. President,” Nate answered quickly. “He committed the crime, the trial was conducted under the scrutiny of the world and deemed to have been just. The Khundhar authorities allowed us access to the evidence and it was determined to be authentic; no tampering. Channing can’t claim ignorance of the law, he’d lived among the populace for five years. He was no tourist. Khundhar prisons are reported to be no worse than our own, and Amnesty International has no issues with prisoner treatment in that country.”
“I should respect the laws and processes of a nation that has made a point of playing by the rules, as we’ve asked them to, is what you’re saying?
“That is what I’m saying, Mr. President,” Nate concurred. “I’m aware his family and some religious organizations are in an uproar, but they have no platform beyond rhetoric.”
The President gave a sharp nod. “Thank you again, Nate.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. President,” he said, turning to leave the Oval Office.
“Hold on, just a minute,” President Bartlett called loudly, startling Nate yet again, “is that Gunnery Sgt. Colbert I see skulking around in my outer office?”
Brad stood talking to Debra Fitterer. At the sound of his name, Brad’s head snapped up and he dragged his hands out of his trouser pockets. He hesitantly approached the doorway, straightening the jacket of his charcoal pinstripe suit.
“Retired, Mr. President,” Brad said, standing nearly at attention. “It’s just Brad now, sir.”
President Bartlett gestured Brad into the Oval Office. Nate stepped to the side, giving Brad clear access to shake the President’s outstretched hand. He knew Brad would rather have saluted.
“It’s good to see you again, Brad. How is retirement treating you?”
“Thank you, sir,” Brad clasped his hands in front of himself, his white knuckles and stiff shoulders obvious signs of his anxiety. “I’m finding retirement very busy, Mr. President; globetrotting with Na…the Secretary, pretending not to be part of his protection detail.”
“Make sure you keep Nate safe, he’s doing a fantastic job.”
“With my life, Mr. President,” Brad said solemnly, “and the Secretary is good at everything he does.”
The President glanced at Nate and chuckled. Nate felt himself color slightly.
“Are you joining us at the reception tonight?” President Bartlett asked Brad.
“Yes, Mr. President,” this time Brad shot a glance in Nate’s direction. “The Secretary has mandated my attendance.”
“Excellent, I look forward to seeing you both this evening, then.”
Nate knew the signal of dismissal, and turned toward the exit, laying a hand lightly on Brad’s arm. “Thank you, Mr. President.”
“Nate, you’re meeting with Josh and Toby now, aren’t you?” President Bartlett called after them.
“Yes, Mr. President.” Nate turned back, brow furrowed in confusion. “We’re formulating the White House’s position on the Channing issue.”
“So you’re not leaving just yet? Perfect.” President Bartlett reached out and took Brad’s arm, steering him toward the terrace doors. “Brad, you’ve seen the view from the terrace before, haven’t you? You should see what it looks like this time of year. No other experience like it.”
Brad glanced over his shoulder in Nate’s direction, the corner of his mouth lifting in a barely perceptible smile. Nate answered with a single lifted eyebrow. He didn’t need to worry, he realized what that show had been all about.
As Brad and the President disappeared onto the terrace, Nate turned to head for the Roosevelt room. He was about to speak to Mrs. Fitterer, when the First Lady suddenly entered the outer office.
“Nate,” she greeted with a wide smile. “Or should I say, Mr. Secretary?”
“Nate is perfectly satisfactory, Mrs. Bartlett.” Nate smiled down at her.
“I assume your Marine is with you?” she asked, gently placing a hand on his arm. “He’s never very far, these days, is he? Is he attending the reception this evening?”
“He is attending, yes ma’am,” Nate replied. With a small tilt of his head, he indicated the terrace. “He and the President are currently outside admiring the view.”
“Oh, they are, are they?” Mrs. Bartlett said archly, glancing into the Oval Office. “I had something to discuss with Jed, but I suppose it can wait.” Turning back to Nate, she asked, “You do know they’re not admiring the view, don’t you? That was the cover story for sneaking cigars.”
“I am aware of that, Mrs. Bartlett, yes.” Nate couldn’t help but smile at the idea that Brad had his own secret code with the President of the United States.
“His smoking doesn’t bother you?” she queried, eyes narrowed.
“No ma’am,” Nate answered seriously. “Brad has no health issues to cause concern. He’s fought in battles that make the hair on the back of my neck stand up, and lived to refuse to tell the stories. I’m in no position to forbid a man like that the pleasure of an occasional cigar with his former Commander in Chief.”
“You make an excellent point,” the First Lady said, turning to leave. “I suppose it won’t hurt to leave them to it this once. See you both later this evening, Nate.”
“Yes, ma’am, thank you, Mrs. Bartlett,” Nate called after her.
“Toby and Josh are waiting for you in the Roosevelt room, Mr. Secretary,” Mrs. Fitterer informed him primly.
With a nod of thanks, Nate left to get back to work.
~*~
Nate paused in the corridor outside of CJ’s office to jot down some final thoughts before he gave her the notes for the briefing.
He heard the sound of CJ hanging up her phone. Then, “How can I help you, Ainsley?”
Nate supposed that must be Ainsley Hayes. He hadn’t yet had the opportunity to meet her.
“CJ, is there a Viking roaming the halls of the White House?” the high-pitched, almost girlish, voice surprised Nate, based on what he’d heard about her.
“A Viking?” CJ asked incredulously. “Not that I’m aware of. Why would there be a Viking in the White House?”
“Well, that’s what I was wondering, but it’s all the Assistants are talking about.”
“What is it they’re saying?”
“That the Secretary of State brought his Viking with him today.” Nate’s head shot up at that. “They’re in the ladies room giggling about seeing him in the main foyer. They act like they’re running reconnaissance missions to track his movements. Donna appears in random hallways announcing various locations in the West Wing and two or three of them head off in that direction at a fast walk.”
Nate knew he shouldn’t eaves drop, but he was conducting his own recon mission, here.
“Secretary Fick?” CJ asked. “Why would Nate have a Viking in the White House?”
Nate heard CJ’s loud gasp as clearly as if he were in the room with her.
“It must be Brad. He’d have brought Brad with him for the reception tonight. It has to be Brad. It has to mean Brad is here.”
“Who is Brad? And why would Nate Fick bring him to a White House reception for the Swedish Ambassador?”
CJ’s voice dropped in pitch. “Brad is Nate’s Marine. He’s six-foot-four of blond-haired, blue-eyed California sin.”
Nate had to bite his lips to keep from snickering. Just wait until he told that one to Brad.
“That must be a pretty sight,” Ainsley mused, “cause I think Nate Fick is kinda dreamy.”
“Oh, they both are. It makes it entirely too easy to forget they probably know a hundred different ways to kill you in your sleep.”
“I still don’t understand, though. Why would Nate just bring the Marine to the White House? Won’t his entire protection detail be at the reception?”
“Ainsley,” CJ said with a laugh, sounding surprised, “Brad is Nate’s Marine. He’s not officially part of the Secretary’s protection detail, he just travels with Nate.”
“Oooh. Ooooooooooooh. Ooooooooh.”
“Yeah, Brad used to be here a lot when Nate worked in the West Wing. The way that man fills out a set of dress blues has to be seen to be believed.”
As much as Nate was enjoying this, he really needed to get back to work. He stepped into the door of CJ’s office and leaned his shoulder against the frame.
“Nate!” CJ exclaimed, leaping from her chair. Her eyes were wide with surprise. “Is there something I can help you with?”
The small woman sitting in front of CJ’s desk, he assumed it was Ainsley, stood quickly and turned to face him. All he could really see was a swirl of long blond hair.
“I came to drop by the notes on the Channing situation for the briefing tonight,” he replied casually.
“Oh, great,” CJ said with more cheer than was necessary. She came around the end of her desk with a hand extended. “I assume you’re attending the reception this evening.”
Nate pushed away from the door frame. He handed CJ the notes from his meeting with Josh and Toby. “Yes, Brad and I will both be there.” He had to work to keep his face impassive.
“Great.” CJ took the notes from him. “I’m looking forward to seeing him again.”
Beside her, Ainsley cleared her throat pointedly.
“Oh, right,” CJ gasped. “Secretary of State Nate Fick, may I introduce Deputy White House Counsel Ainsley Hayes.”
Ainsley stood with her back straight, hand extended rigidly in front of her. The smile she bestowed on Nate was all teeth. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Secretary.”
Nate was impressed with the firmness of her handshake. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Hayes.” Looking back at CJ, Nate slid his portfolio beneath his arm. “Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I have to go collect my Viking Marine before he and the President finish plotting what could very well be a successful plan for world domination.”
CJ’s and Ainsley’s faces both registered shock, to Nate’s secret delight.
“You heard us?” CJ asked.
“Every word,” Nate said, turning to leave her office.
He was in the corridor, just outside of the office when he stopped and turned.
“Oh, CJ?” he called. When she looked up again, he said, “If you liked the way he filled out his dress blues, just wait until you see him in white tie and tails.”
Nate smiled in victory at the sound of mortified groans coming from CJ’s office.
~*~
“So that’s why Ainsley Hayes blushed and stuttered when you asked her to dance earlier?” Brad asked, when Nate had recounted the incident in CJ’s office.
“That would be why,” Nate chuckled. He had to admit he’d been right. Brad’s height and his broad shoulders made him the most striking man in the room. They stood together, both in the required formal wear of white tie and tails.
“What do you think CJ would do if I asked her to dance?” Brad asked.
“Giggle and trip over a chair?”
“That could be entertaining,” Brad mused. “She’s also intelligent enough to make interesting small talk.”
“She’s right over there,” Nate gestured in CJ’s direction. “By all means, go ask her. You’ll make her night.”
Brad glanced down at him. “Do I have your blessing then?”
Nate arched an eyebrow and gave Brad a hard look.
“If she doesn’t let me off the dance floor after two songs, send rescue,” Brad said, before making his way over to CJ.
To her credit, CJ didn’t trip over a chair.
Nate glanced around the room, looking again for the Ambassador to Khundhar. He knew the man would be upset and somewhat offended at the remarks that had been put into President Bartlett’s speech. The fact that Khundhar had been above reproach in the Channing incident, did not change the fact that they turned a blind eye to the terrorist training camps inside their borders. They did nothing to support the terrorists, but they did nothing to run them out, either.
The President had hoped that letting Channing serve his prison time in Khundhar would give him the political capital necessary to pressure them into proactively dealing with the camps.
Unfortunately, Toby and Josh didn’t see it the same way. They wanted Channing returned to the U.S., and Khundhar to use its army to take out the training camps. Their meeting earlier had barely remained civil.
Nate glanced around again. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t see Toby or Josh, either. An annoying suspicion began to take root in his mind. They wouldn’t try a backchannel negotiation, would they?
Glancing over, Nate saw Brad escorting CJ from the dance floor. Nate didn’t blame her, one iota, for giggling when Brad bent slightly at the waist and kissed her hand. Just watching Brad be effortlessly dashing made Nate’s belly warm with desire.
As Brad passed behind him, on his way back to Nate, the Swedish Ambassador turned and grabbed Brad’s arm. Nate could tell from Brad’s brow, furrowed in confusion, that the Ambassador had spoken in Swedish.
Nate plastered a smile on his face and quickly crossed to the Ambassador and his family. As he approached, he heard Ambassador Berggren speaking angrily to Brad, still gripping his arm. Brad was carefully trying to extricate himself without creating an international incident, which Nate appreciated.
“Ambassador Berggren,” Nate greeted, hand extended so that he had no choice but to release Brad’s arm to shake it. “I see you’ve met Gunnery Sgt. Colbert, U.S. Marine Corp, retired. He served in my platoon, during my time in the Corps.”
The Ambassador snatched his hand from Brad’s arm. He shook Nate’s hand, mouth hanging open in surprise. “He is American?” the Ambassador asked. “A friend of yours?”
“Brad, may I present Ambassador Berggren, of Sweden.” Brad graciously took the Ambassador’s proffered hand.
“I apologize, Mr. Secretary,” the Ambassador said, glancing between Brad and Nate. “I mistook him for a member of my staff.”
Nate gestured the length of Brad’s body. “It’s understandable. He is, however, a part of my staff.”
When Nate finally extricated them from the Ambassador, Brad gave a heavy sigh. “He wouldn’t let go of my arm and I couldn’t understand a word he was saying.”
“You have to admit, it was an understandable mistake.” Nate couldn’t help but smile.
“I was sure anything I did was going to have us going to war with Sweden,” Brad groused. “I wouldn’t mind the war, but I was sure you’d be pissed off enough to withhold sex. Tell me we can go home now,” he sighed.
“Soon,” Nate said, squeezing Brad’s arm. “Tired of dancing?”
“Tired of dancing with people other than you,” Brad replied, leaning into Nate’s body. “Have I told you tonight, how handsome you are?”
“No.”
Brad made a noncommittal sound. “Maybe later.”
Nate smiled. “Have you seen Toby or Josh lately?”
“Why in the hell would I even be looking for those two?”
“Ordinarily I wouldn’t be either,” Nate admitted. “I’m a little pissed off that I can’t drag you out of here and defile you in the back of the limo. But Toby and Josh weren’t happy with the President’s decision on the Channing issue. And now, I also seem to be missing an Ambassador.”
“Recon mission, sir?” Brad asked, one eyebrow lifted and a smile starting.
“Yeah,” Nate said. “Let’s go find ourselves some White House staffers.”
In the end, Toby and Josh posed no challenge at all for Brad and Nate. Brad smiled and asked a member of the wait staff; Nate questioned a Marine door guard, and a few short minutes later they entered the White House kitchen.
Anger spiked through Nate when he spotted an angry Ambassador Nasser quietly reading Josh and Toby the riot act. He caught just enough of the angry words to know the Ambassador had indeed taken umbrage at the President’s comments. He was making it abundantly clear that the United States could not publicly criticize Khundhar and expect them to be agreeable to a backdoor negotiation.
Nate burst through the door angrily, striding directly toward the cluster of men. He felt Brad right on his six. “Ambassador Nasser,” he said in the same tone he'd used to call his platoon to attention, “I noticed you were missing from the reception. Anyone care to tell me what’s going on here?”
Toby and Josh both looked down at their shoes, just like naughty five-year-olds.
“I believe you know precisely what is happening here, Mr. Secretary,” Nasser said. “You looked over our shoulder during Mr. Channing’s trial, as if we weren’t capable of reaching the correct outcome without your help. We endured the scrutiny without complaint. Now, your President has made remarks in his speech, with the intention of embarrassing my country. And I am expected to agree to a sloppy, backchannel request that Channing be released, as if we cannot be trusted to administer appropriate justice?”
Nate was livid. He’d negotiated and maneuvered events to the precise needs and instructions of the President, and here were Josh and Toby threatening to fuck everything up. Behind his back, no less. “Mr. Ambassador, the United States does not want Mr. Channing released to our custody.”
Toby began to protest and Nate turned a withering glare on him.
“Your country proved that its criminal justice system is capable of administering itself in a fair and impartial manner,” Nate continued. “The President feels no need to demand the return of Channing to U.S. custody.”
“That is not what I have been told,” Nasser said tightly, glancing at Toby and Josh.
“I am the Secretary of State of the United States. I am the head of the Foreign Services. I am my country’s chief diplomat.” Nate paused for breath. “I have been explicitly told by the President himself, that we are not asking for Mr. Channing’s return.”
“I stand corrected, Mr. Secretary.” Nasser’s posture relaxed slightly.
“However,” Nate continued, “I expect you to convey to your President, my President’s expectations that he expel the known terrorist training camps from within your country’s borders. You have the world’s respect; you have the world’s attention. With that come certain responsibilities. Am I making myself understood, Ambassador Nasser?”
“You are indeed, Mr. Secretary,” Nasser said calmly, his face betraying no emotion.
“Very good.” Nate gestured toward the door he had entered through. “Your security detail is just outside that door. They’ll see you safely back to the ballroom.”
“Mr. Secretary.” Nasser gave a sharp nod and strode toward the door.
“Mr. Ambassador,” Nate replied.
When Nasser was gone, Nate turned toward Toby and Josh.
“Now, I know the President did not task you with this mission,” he said through grit teeth. “So, would one of you like to tell me what the fuck you were trying to do?”
“Channing’s sister does volunteer work with my sister-in-law,” Toby said, having difficulty meeting Nate’s eyes.
“And?” Nate prompted.
“The family knows the President isn’t going to demand Channing’s return. They were hoping the Khundhar government would respond to a personal appeal.”
“A personal appeal?” Nate asked with quiet menace. “This is personal?”
Josh’s and Toby’s silence gave Nate his answer.
“All right, gents, listen up,” Nate said, stepping close. “You can argue with me behind closed doors. You can privately air dissenting opinions in a respectful manner. You are free to try to persuade me to your way of thinking. However, when the President gives me an order, I will execute that order to the absolute best of my ability. Don’t either of you ever, repeat ever, fuck with my mission, publicly or through a backchannel, again. Are we clear, gentlemen?”
“Yes, sir,” Josh murmured.
“Yes, Mr. Secretary,” Toby said, looking as close to contrite as Nate suspected he was able.
Nate spun on his heel and headed for the exit. The sound of Brad’s shoes told Nate he was still close on his six. His security detail closed around him, leading the way back to the ballroom.
“We should really leave, Nate,” Brad murmured, low enough the detail couldn’t hear.
“Why, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, but I doubt the First Lady would appreciate my dragging you into a men’s room stall during a white tie function at the White House.”
Nate chuckled. “I imagine she would be greatly displeased. Why the sudden desire to defile me in the men's room? Can't wait for the backseat of the limo?”
“I wouldn’t call it sudden, as it’s something I’ve wanted to do since the first sight of you in your formal wear. It has, however, become a more pressing concern since you so effectively asserted your command presence.”
“Is that all it takes?” Nate asked, smiling teasingly.
“You know I like you when you’re bossy, sir,” Brad smiled in return.
“Oh, be honest, Brad, you like me all the time. Thirty minutes to say our goodbyes?”
“As long as the limo is already waiting for us when we’re done.”