Elliot wondered if he should give his on/off girlfriend a call. It wasn't too late to go out for a meal or a quick drink. A very quick drink and then back to her his, or hers. Skip the foreplay and straight to bed. It was the middle of the week and things were quiet. He could turn up to work late tomorrow. Could say he was out chasing down a story, or something. No one would care too much.
He pulled out his phone, unlocked it, finger hovering over his phone book. A quick check of his emails and he would phone her. Pulling over his laptop, he stirred it from sleep. Most of the messages were junk and he deleted them. One caught his eye. It was from a contact he had cultivated, but had very little actionable content from, so far. It was titled 'We are very busy'. He opened it.
: You know how you said to alert you if you-know-who makes a big order? Well, they have made the biggest ever tonight... :
That was strange. There was nothing untoward going on in the world. Yes, there were some border skirmishes in Africa and the Taliban had blown up another mosque, but nothing out of the ordinary.
Picking up his phone, Elliot swiped past the on/off and dialled a number, waiting for the ringtone to be answered.
"I would like to make an order?" He listened to the apology that they would not be able to fulfil any phone orders for a couple of hours. "Okay, thank you." He rang anther number.
"I would like to place to an order?" He listened to response. "No it's fine, I'll leave it and try somewhere else." A third number had the same response. He didn't bother trying a fourth.
Dial tone. "What's up Elliot?"
"Darren, have you heard anything unusual? Out of the ordinary?"
"Like what? Throw me a bone here."
"I don't know. It might be nothing. I was wondering if any of your military contacts have alerted you to anything unusual or out of the ordinary in the last day or so."
"Nooo.... What are you hearing?"
"Nothing, just a feeling..."
"I'll ask."
"Okay, cheers Darren." Eliot hung up and went to his bookmarks. He had some traffic cameras bookmarked and paid some store owners for access to the camera's they had showing the outside of their shops. He started with the more legal traffic cameras.
The roads were quieter than they should be. The home going traffic was light. He took some screenshots, pulling over a notepad, scribbled down some notes. Next, he accessed the deli camera.
Elliot had access to the drive and was able to view what the camera had recorded for the last seven days. The security gate was just in shot. It shouldn't have been, but he had physically pushed the fixed camera up to catch the security access point. He moved the timer back to morning and watched the day workers queue up to be checked in. Everything was as normal. He fast forward through the day.
Cars arrived, very few left.
He moved next to a restaurant which just happened to have an outside camera pointed at another security gate. That access cost him yearly baseball tickets. He went back to the morning. Same again. Staff arrived, very few left. His phone rang.
"Yes Darren?"
"Your spider senses were right, leave for the regulars has been restricted. Family funerals and marriages only. Reservists have been alerted to possible short notice call ups. It's being touted as 'readiness' exercises. Purely administrative, to see how quickly the reservists could mobilise, in theory."
"Are your contacts saying it's a purely paper exercise?"
There was a telling pause.
"Officially, yes, but the back channels are saying the opposite. What do you know ?"
"Nothing. Genuinely nothing, apart from what you have told me and that all the fast food joints around the Pentagon are flat out."
"I didn't think anything interesting was going on in the world?"
"Neither did I. I'm looking now at Al Jazeera and there is nothing out of the ordinary. North Korea is quiet and China is still recovering from its brief civil war."
"My phone is ringing, I'll get back to you."
"Okay, cheers Darren."
Elliot rang George, his editor, explained the situation. "Is Elaine still in the press pack for that press junket at the orphanage?"
"It's a music school for the underprivileged."
"Whatever. Do you have any inclining as to what might be going on?"
"No. I'll speak to our owner and see if the money people have noticed anything unusual."
"Okay."
Elliot's phone buzzed. A text message from Darren.
: Check out the ship finder website. Especially the task force on the way to Taiwan....:
Elliot did so. The task force on the way to Taiwan had done a complete one eighty four hours ago. His thumb danced across the screen again as he flipped through his contact list. Dial tone.
"What."
"Elaine, I need a bit of a favour tomorrow at the Press Pack." He heard her sigh in response.
"What do you need?"
Elliot knew that all questions were carefully vetted beforehand and that the Press Secretary did not take kindly to Madame President being asked questions that had not been vetted beforehand, so he didn't ask for a question.
"I need you to ask around the aides, see if one of them will let slip something they shouldn't."
"Like what?"
"Like why the Pentagon didn't go home tonight. Like why the task force on the way to Taiwan has just reversed course and why all leave in the military has been restricted."
"I didn't hear of any new conflict anywhere…"
"Nor have I, but something is going down…"
"I'll make some enquiries…"
"Thanks Elaine."
Elaine cut the connection and looked down at the new seventeen year old female intern, Iris, lying naked between her spread and equally naked legs.
"Did I tell you to stop?"
Although he tried all his contacts, he could find out no more. Nothing for it, he would have to go into work early tomorrow. Something was going down and if he wasn't in the office when it did, he was going to have to do some explaining...
***
He watched his fellow passengers on the tube. Nothing seemed out of place. The carriage was maybe a little quieter than usual but there was no thinly veiled panic or frantic hushed conversations.
There was nothing in the news, no increased presence in the streets. It was a normal 7am commute.
Hanging his coat over the back of his chair, Elliot nudged his mouth to wake his screen. First port of call was to check his emails. Nothing helpful. Maybe he was over-reacting. But his gut said he wasn't, and he trusted his gut.
Terry, their editor, walked in. Elliot walked over.
"Did you speak with our owner?"
"I did."
"And?"
"The money markets are quiet. No strange share dealing."
The morning proved frustrating. The signs were there, but signs of what…
"Who has the TV remote?" Elliot tracked it down and changed the screen from its finance market display to one of the major news channels that was covering the Presidents PR trip.
***
Elaine studied the mass of aides. There was a definite tension in the air as Madame President spoke to carefully vetted students. Each interaction carefully scripted and manipulated to bolster whatever demographic her advisors thought she was polling poorly with.
Presidential Security was about average. No more, no less than usual. She may not know their names, but she knew most of their faces. She had been covering the White House for almost twenty years and whilst the President changed, the staff on the whole, didn't. There were a few new faces in the entourage. Whilst they weren't dressed in the suits of Presidential Security, their suits did little to hide their military bearing. Military uniform would have been out of place in such a setting, but some things you could not hide, no matter what you wore. Who they were and what they were doing here was intriguing. She looked around for Iris.
Iris was not the sharpest type face, but she had her uses, other than her tongue. Unlike members of the press pack, she wasn't dressed in a sharp suit or conservative dress, like Elaine, but in a clingy short dress. Elaine had sent her out to harass any single male aide, or to try and split one from the pack.
It was cliché but cliché's existed for a reason.
Iris's bubbly personality, youthful curves, endless legs and seemingly permanent innocent expression, were at odds to Elaine's early fifties permanent look of cynicism.
The Press Secretary was calling them all together for the obligatory press conference and saccharine question and non-answer session. Elaine looked down at the bit of paper with her question nestled amongst the other carefully chosen questions to be asked by the 'chosen few'.
Fuck it.
***
On screen, the camera changed to a shot of the podium with the Presidential crest clearly in view. Two American flags draped, just so, behind. Elliot turned up the volume on the TV. The President calmly walked up to the podium. There was the obligatory speech that said a lot without saying anything and then the President invited questions from the assembled reporters.
"Trent Crimm, from The Independent. Will the funding be a once off, or is this just for the duration of your presidential term?"
"I would like the funding to outlast my many Term's in office, as I believe underprivileged youths are…"
Elliot switched off mentally. It was all bullshit. As soon as public interest waned in the school, the funding would be quietly funnelled elsewhere. Trent was replaced with another reporter and a bland question was followed by a bland answer and then onto the next media stooge.
A familiar face appeared on the screen.
"Elaine McDonald, ABN News. Madame President, Pentagon staff did not go home last night, military leave has been rescinded, personnel are being flown back from overseas postings and the task force that you very publically sent to Taiwan, is headed back to our shores. Madame President, what are you not telling the American people?"
The assembled press pack turned as one to look at Elaine in shock.
"You fucking dancer Elaine!" Elliot called up at the screen as the President turned to briefly look at someone behind her.
"I can assure you Elaine, that I am holding back nothing from the American people, and I can assure you that there is nothing to hold back. You are mistaking normal military movement as something else. Can I remind you all, that I am here to talk about our underprivileged children from marginalised minorities…"
The damage had been done and subsequent questions obviously deviated from the pre-planned script forcing the Press Officer to step in.
"Madame President has further engagements this afternoon and will not be able to take any further questions…"
The President was ushered off stage in a manner that implied she was indeed keeping something back.
Terry stepped out of his office.
"Did you see Terry! Did you see it!"
"I saw it Elliot. Toby!" Terry beckoned to Toby, their videographer.
"Yes sir."
"I want every piece of footage you can get of that press conference. I want to know who every single person in her entourage was and who the fuck she looked at."
"On it!"
***
Elaine handed over her press credentials to a decidedly unamused Press Officer backed up by two security officers. She was not unduly concerned, she might get them back this Presidential term, or she might not. It wasn't the first time in her career that she had lost Presidential access. A few carefully worded pieces in the press and online, and she could bully her way back in. She just had to spend a month or two or three, in press purgatory to serve as a warning to other reporters who thought about going against the wishes of the Press Office. She noted that Iris still had hers as they were escorted out of the school back onto the street.
She hailed a taxi.
"Well?" she asked of Iris.
"I got a few numbers…" Iris replied as she climbed into the back of the taxi, the hem of her short dress riding up as she did so.
"Good girl." Elaine said as she gave the driver the address for the office.
"Will you get into trouble?" Iris asked.
"A little…" Elaine's pulse was still running high from the adrenaline. As the taxi pulled away from the curb, she leaned over and kissed Iris on the lips as her hand slipped up the thigh of the much younger woman. She had watched Iris get dressed that morning and knew a thong awaited her fingers. She easily pulled it aside and slipped a finger inside Iris, breaking from the kiss momentarily.
"You did well…" Elaine murmured as Iris let out a little moan.
***
It was frustrating.
They had the key. Just not the lock in which it opened.
All the other media outlets had now jumped on the bandwagon. Sources were being kept close to chests, but if any of the competition knew what was going on, they were not saying. Which meant they didn't know either. It was hardly comforting.
The task force meant as a show of force and support for Taiwan, was not the only carrier group heading home. The one that had been keeping its thumb firmly down on the heads of the Somali pirates, was heading home as well.
At the moment, those same pirates were keeping their heads down, but once they became aware that the carrier group was no longer there, it would be open season again on the oil tankers. There had been no word, official or otherwise, from the embassies of the G10 about the USA's military retraction. Or the inevitable repercussions. The only major force now protecting traffic through the Suez Canal, were the British with a woeful two frigates and very little support for the action at home.
Flight Radar, ADSB and a few others were showing a lot of military flight activity. Elliot flicked between his three computer screens. Not every service reported planes in transit, but taken in aggregate, they caught the majority of traffic.
It was three am and he should really sleep, but he was worried that something would break when he was floating in darkness. It was three days since Elaine's unexpected question and the Press Corps were hailing her a hero.
The President was partly in hiding. She was still doing public engagements, but no interviews. No meaningful ones anyway. Every attempt by the White House to calm the situation, to move on, only succeeded in making it worse. Even foreign press agency's had woken up and joined the hunt for the elusive 'story'.
Elliot watched an internet clip of an interview with the British Prime Minister, as he fielded question after question as to what he thought the Americans were up to. He genuinely looked both perplexed and confused about the situation as did the American public. The clip moved on to one of the Houses of Parliament, where an opposition member tried to invoke Parliamentary Privilege to get an answer as to why all the night flights from RAF Lakenheath and Mildenhall. He was unsuccessful. Either the Brits didn't know, or they were excelling themselves at keeping their mouths shut.
***
"You look tired." Iris said.
"I feel tired." Jack replied as he took a sip of his beer. "I didn't think you would text back."
"You promised me a drink…"
"That I did." Jack smiled in tired amusement. "You look stunning."
"So you've already said…"
"Well you do…"
Iris was wearing a simple blue and white button down the front sundress with a hem to the knee. Sandals that strapped past the ankles with the top few buttons of her sundress undone to reveal the edges of a lacy bra should you stand, or sit, directly in front of her and be looking down. Very much like Jack was doing on the barstool next to her.
Both were purposefully avoiding any mention about their current employment. The small talk was exactly that. Neutral. Safe. His eyes kept dropping to her exposed cleavage. She made a point of not noticing.
Iris twisted from the hips as she reached to the bar top for her wine glass. She didn't need to look down to know the simple cotton pushed out with her movements, allowing Jack a brief flash of more of her bra and the breast that it contained. She took a sip of her wine, just enough to wet her lips, make them glisten before she sat the wine glass back on the bar mat.
"It's nice enough here."
"Have you never been before?"
Iris let out a playful laugh, making sure her eyes twinkled.
"Waaay out of my price range…"
"Financially, I suppose it is, but you don't look out of place."
"Oh? How?"
"Classy. Timeless beauty. And the bar is all-right as well…"
"Easy there tiger." She pointed a forefinger at him, accompanied with a little smile that said she was not averse to a little flirtation. "It's nice to be in a place where you hear your date talk for a change."
"Is this what this is Iris? A date?"
She shrugged non-committedly.
"It's normally busier, but…" he trailed off, obviously censoring what he had been about to say.
"It's nice." Iris remarked, deftly moving the conversation on. "And don't say "like you" or you will be wearing the contents of my wine glass."
"Well, that would be a waste."
"It would…" She took another little sip to emphasise the point.
"Woops!" Iris staggered as she left the bar, Jack automatically reached out to take hold of her. He didn't relinquish his hold when she regained her balance. She leaned into his embrace. The 'fake fall' always worked.
At his flat, she waited till he was asleep before she slipped naked from his bed. The laminate floors were cold against the soles of her feet. She wandered about, looking at the paperwork scattered around. Some he should not have had at his flat, given the obvious security classification on them. None looked to be of interest, though she took pictures of a few on her phone, just in case. There was some communication about renting time at the Green Bank Observatory, potential crop yields for the year ahead – she took pictures of that because she had seen the old movie Trading Places and thought some of the graphs she didn't understand might come in handy. Lots of low level stuff about upcoming and past POTUS engagements, again, nothing that wasn't already partly out in the public domain.
Very unsatisfactory.
She made her way back to the bedroom and slipped in under the sheets. The flat was not much bigger than her own, which was a little disappointing really. She thought that it would have been bigger. He was still asleep, so she reached over him to the little table that held his phone and alarm clock. She retrieved his phone and sought out his left hand, which she had noticed was his dominant one. Under the duvet she slowly extended his forefinger. He didn't wake. Emboldened, she used her body to tent the duvet so she could see, and placed the phone sensor against his finger. The phone unlocked.
Slowly adjusting to a more comfortable position, she let the duvet settle back around him as she flicked through his messages. Again it was all low level stuff and some back and forth flirtation with a girl called Hallie. Some of it quite raunchy, which made her smirk. His photo album was also a let-down, mostly clothed selfies and location pictures taken on what looked to be some sort of campaign trail. Not a single dick picture to be seen, but then, his phone was probably monitored as a matter of course. Dawn's light was seeping through the curtains and she had found nothing of use. Iris picked up her own phone, turned on her camera and filmed his screen as she slowly scrolled through his phonebook, smirking again when she saw Hallie's name. She might keep a note of that one's number...
The numbers themselves, at least made the evening worthwhile.
***
Iris stumbled as she stepped out of the taxi but Teddy Brackley was there to catch her.
"Oops, thanks…"
Teddy had required a little bit more work than Jack, even though she had farmed their numbers at the same time. She looked down the street with its detached houses set back from the road, this was the end of her third date with Teddy.
"You are my Teddy Bear!" she said loudly with a laugh as the taxi drove away.
"Shhh! I don't want to wake the neighbours…"
"Oops, sorry!" she whispered loudly, dramatically, drunkenly.
His arm slipped around her waist as he guided her down the driveway. The darker the path became and the further they walked from the road, the more brazen his hand became. It slipped from her hip to rest on her bum as she leaned into him as they navigated their way to his front door.
For tonight's date, she had worn a black strapless tube dress and a matching bolero. Under the dress, she was wearing a black basque without the optional shoulder straps. The optional suspender straps she was wearing and they were currently holding up her lace top stockings which ended in stiletto heels. During the previous two 'dates', she had asked seemingly casual questions about what he thought looked good on women and had adjusted her wardrobe to suit for tonight. Her choice had not disappointed as he was far more warry and worldly wise than Jack had been.
A light came on above the door, but they were hidden from the road and neighbours by tall shrubbery. Brazenly, he slipped his left hand up under her tight tube dress to caress her bare cheeks, his fingertips tracing the thin strip of her black thong as his right inserted his key into his door.
He helped her inside with one hand as he typed his code into the alarm panel on the wall in the hallway that led from the door with the other. It was habit to memorise the code and she ran through it multiples times as he shut the door on the outside world.
"It's such a big house! Are you not lonely!"
"I won't be tonight."
She giggled appropriately. She knew he was divorced, but hadn't asked, till now, why.
"Why did she leave you and take the kids Teddy Bear?"
"She caught me with the babysitter."
"NOOO!" She stopped to look at him, putting on a bit of a wobble for effect. "I don't believe you. That's such a cliché."
"Well it happened."
"Was she worth it Teddy Bear?"
"Every second. You and her have a lot in common…"
Iris slipped the tip of her finger into her mouth.
"Really Teddy Bear?"
"Call me Daddy from now on…"
"Yes Daddy…"
Slipping from the bed, Iris looked down at Teddy. He may have been telling her the truth about the babysitter, but it was probably his snoring that had been enough to drive the wife and kids away. He was so LOUD!
She picked up his phone and pushed his finger against the lock screen. It asked for an additional four digit code.
"Fuck!" she muttered as she dropped his hand and replaced the phone on the oak bedside table. She was still in her basque and stockings, though the latter had multiple runs in them now. Her thong was, somewhere. Her dress was draped over the back of the chair in front of a very expensive looking dressing table. Her heels were placed neatly at the side of the bed, where she had put them after taking them off when he had finally slumped, spent, on the bed, snoring almost immediately. She opened a few of the drawers, they were all empty. She looked around and didn't see anything of immediate interest. At least the floor was carpeted with a lush pile. Iris picked up her phone and headed for the door.
Iris enjoyed walking slowly through his house in just the basque and stockings, letting her hand trail across the expensive looking panelling. Two bedrooms looked lived in. The décor in both hinting at a teenage boy and a girl. She opened some drawers in the girl's dressing table. Some underwear. It looked like they stayed over sometimes. She ran a finger along and between her pussy lips, sniffed it and then wiped it clean against the girl's pillow.
She made her way down the stairs. She could still hear Teddy snoring loudly, even downstairs. The kitchen was clean, neat, orderly and she wondered if he had a cleaner come in to tidy up after him. There was nothing of interest.
There was a separate dining room and that at least had paperwork strewed across it. Similar to Jack, some of it was stamped 'Restricted'.
"They never learn. Thankfully."
There seemed to be correspondence with the language departments of several Universities. She rummaged through the papers, taking pictures with her phone of ones that looked interesting, focusing on the dates and the contents, which were vague enquiries about learning time for various forms of language.
Teddy had been a little coy about what his actual job in the administration was.
Several places rang a bell in her mind and she thought back to where she had seen them. Jack's room, there had been requests for time at an observatory. Green Bank or something. There was correspondence, not just with American universities, but with Australian and, intriguingly, a South African one. Again, it was about time with something called the SKA-Low and the SKA-Mid. Which meant nothing to her. She Googled them and was still none the wiser. She moved on from the table to another table next to a large comfortable looking chair. There were several books on the table. Astronomy for beginners. A brief history of Time. Galaxies explained. Space for Dummies.
A cold shiver spread down her spine as pieces threatened to fall into place. She took pictures of the books and then wrote a brief text message.
***
Elaine woke from her light sleep to the sound of her phone rattling on her bedside table. She looked at the time on her old and trusty alarm clock. It was just gone half two in the morning. Old habits were hard to move on from and she didn't quite trust her phone to wake her in the morning.
It was from Iris. Elaine felt a pang of jealousy knowing where she was instead of being in bed next to her. That girl had a delightfully wicked tongue. She swiped open the message.
: We are looking in the wrong place. We are looking down when we should be looking up … :