The Inner Circle - Brad Meltzer [162]
Nico nodded. It was a good thought. Maybe it’d be tomorrow. Or the day after that. Or even the day after.
But it was going to happen. Soon.
Nico knew the rules.
He knew his purpose.
Beecher would be coming back. He definitely would.
It might take him a month. Or even longer. But eventually, Beecher would want help. He’d want help, and he’d want answers. And most of all, he’d want to know how to track down Clementine—which, if Nico was right about what was in her, was the only thing Nico wanted too.
Shoving his way back through the swinging doors and still thinking of how his daughter had misled him, Nico headed back to his room.
Soon, he and Beecher—George Washington and Benedict Arnold—would again be working together.
Just like the universe had always planned.
117
The White House
Second-Floor Residence
Where’s he, upstairs?” Minnie asked a passing aide who was carrying the newest stack of autographed items, from personal letters to a red, white, and blue golf ball, that the President had just finished signing.
“Solarium,” the aide said, pointing up as Minnie headed for the back staircase that would take her the rest of the way.
Minnie always loved the Solarium, which sat above the Truman Balcony on the top floor of the White House and had the best view of the Mall and the Washington Monument.
But Minnie didn’t love it for the view. Or because it was the one casual room in the entire Residence. She loved it because it reminded her of home. Literally.
Lined with old family photos from when she and the President were kids, the narrow hallway that led up and out to the Solarium rose at a surprisingly steep incline. Even with her pink flamingo cane, it was tough for Minnie to navigate. But she still stared as she passed each old photograph—the one when she and ten-year-old Orson are smiling with all the chocolate in their teeth… the one with Orson proudly holding his first cross-country running trophy… and of course, the one right after she was born, with her mother placing baby Minnie for the first time in her brother’s arms. Back then, the side of her face was covered with skin lesions. But little Orson is smiling down, so proud to be the new big brother. Wallace had personally made sure that picture made the list.
“Don’t you dare do that,” Minnie called out to her brother, rapping her cane against the floor. As she entered the room, which was decorated with casual sofas, she saw the problem.
With his back to her, the President stood there, hands in his pockets as he stared out the tall glass windows at the bright glow of the Washington Monument.
“Don’t do that,” she warned again, knowing him all too well.
“You know this was the room Nancy Reagan was in when they told her the President had been shot?” her brother announced.
“Yeah, and I know from the last time you were all upset and moody, it’s also the room where Nixon told his family he was going to step down. We get it. Whenever you start staring out at the monuments or talking about other Presidents, you’re in a piss mood. So just tell me: What’s it this time? What’s in your craw?”
He thought about telling her that Palmiotti was dead. It’d be on the news soon enough—complete with the story of how the doctor was blackmailed and lured down to the caves by the criminal Clementine. But Wallace knew that his sister was still riding the high of the morning’s charity event.
“Actually, I was just thinking about you,” Wallace replied, still keeping his back to her as Minnie hobbled with her cane toward him. “Today was really nice.”
“It was, wasn’t it?” Minnie said, smiling the half-smile that the stroke allowed. “Thanks again for coming and doing the speech. It made the event…” She paused a moment, trying to think of the right word. Her brother had heard all of them.
“It felt good to have you there,” she finally said.
The President nodded, still standing there, staring out at the snow-covered Mall. From behind, Minnie playfully tapped his leg with the head of the flamingo cane. “Make room,” she added,