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"Didn't you come to a conclusion a while ago? What was it?" Tami asked."I forgot. That was a long time ago." It was five minutes," Robbie pointed out."Five minutes is a long time when all your blood is in the other head." Tami laid her hand on the bulge in my jeans and squeezed."Oh, God!" Do you two want to be alone?" Robbie asked."Not right now," Tami said, squeezing again. "How about you two?"Robbie looked obviously down at the hand massaging my crotch. "Not now. Maybe later." Would you two like to be alone?" I said, getting into the spirit of things."Okay," Tami said, taking her hand off my crotch and offering it to Robbie. Robbie grinned and took it. The girls got up and walked off toward my bedroom."What just happened?" I asked the empty room."Let's go for a walk," Tami said, when the girls came back half-an-hour later.Both girls smiled at me, but I refused to ask what they'd been doing. I knew they'd just been talking. They wouldn't do any more than that. They just stayed back. .. Back at the White House it was soon time to leave. I made one phone call to Hanna. Then I sent a Secret Service agent out to find Melinda Schaffer and her camera man Nick Cote to bring them to the side media room.The side media room was where a reporter who was granted special access to administration VIP’s could do a one on one interview.“Melinda, Nick are your passports valid?” I asked.“Yes, but why do you ask?” Melinda replied.“Be at Morton Field at 1400 so you can go through customs, the plane leaves at 1500 with or without you. Pack for four days - the temperatures are in the low 60s and daytime highs will be low to mid 80s,” I replied.“Nick, bring enough equipment to do remote broadcasts” I added.“Where are we going?” Melinda asked.“I cannot tell you and you cannot tell anyone - not even your bosses – that you are leaving or for how long. To do so may mean the difference of walking down the plane steps or getting carried out of the cargo bay in a body bag when the plane comes.
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The notifications on his phone had ceased. Communications were run on a closed circuit limited to, and only to, the estate grounds. He took a deep breath and stepped forward, raising his fist to use the large dragon-head knocker in the dead center of the rich mahogany doors. Before he could touch the brass, the door swung open, and there stood a tall, old skinny man with tired eyes and whitening hair. "Ah you must be Mr. Doe. Please do come in." The old man beckoned John inside and closed the door behind him. "My name is Martin Woodsworth. Feel free to call me Mr. Woodsworth. I am the head butler around here. You arrived sooner than we had anticipated. Mr. Johnson is slightly preoccupied at the moment, but he shouldn't be for long." He raised his wrist to his mouth. Upon it was some sort of black wristband hidden just beneath the cuff of his suit. He pressed his thumb against the black band and spoke. "Mr. Johnson, Mr. Doe has arrived. Yes, I've already told him you won't be long..

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