Stone - 25 - Collateral Damage

Lee…”
    “Kate, please, Mike.”
    “Kate. It has occurred to me that you’re going to be retiring from government service in the not-too-distant future.”
    “The Constitution insists that Will retire, and I pretty much have to go with him.”
    “Well, perhaps we can find a way to keep you from being bored after you are a private citizen again.”
    “Oh, good! I’ve been worried about that.”
    “Stone and I would like it very much if you would consider joining the board of Strategic Services.”
    “What an interesting idea,” she replied. “What would that entail?”
    “We meet more often than some boards, on the first Monday of each month, except August, when everybody seems to be out of town. Since we work our board pretty hard, the pay is twenty-five thousand per meeting, but you’re certainly not required to make every one.”
    “Just when I need the money?”
    Mike laughed. “If you’re feeling flush, you can miss some meetings, but we’d like to see you there as often as possible.”
    “Mike, you understand that, even after I leave the Agency, I’ll be under very tight strictures about what I can discuss.”
    “We’re more interested in the experience you’ve acquired and in your judgment,” Mike said. “And, though we like gossip as much as anyone, we’re not interested in official secrets.”
    “That makes your offer very attractive indeed,” Kate said. “I’ll have to discuss it with Will, of course, but he likes New York as much as I do.”
    “I know you have a great deal on your plate between now and retirement, so I don’t expect an immediate answer.”
    “Thank you. I’ll think about it when I can.”
    The phone buzzed. “That’s Helene,” Stone said, “telling us to come to dinner.”

They dined and drank wine and talked and laughed, and not once did anyone bring up the Agency, the White House, or Jasmine Shazaz.
    “I don’t know when I’ve had so much fun,” Kate said, as Stone poured her more wine. “It’s such a relief not to have to keep up appearances, for fear of what will be in the columns the next morning.”
    “This is a leakproof environment,” Stone said, “and you’re welcome anytime.”
    “It looks like you folks are having way too much fun,” said a voice from the door to the kitchen. Will Lee came in and pulled up an extra chair.
    “Good evening, Mr. President,” Stone said.
    “It’s just Will in this company,” he replied, accepting a glass of wine.
    “Will,” Kate said, “I’ve had a job offer.”
    “You already have a job,” he said. “Doesn’t it keep you busy enough?”
    “It will until next January,” she said. “Then I’ll be at loose ends.”
    “What’s the job?”
    “Mike and Stone have asked me to join the board of Strategic Services.”
    “Have they, now?” Will said, frowning a little.
    “They have, and unless you can cough up some substantive reason why I shouldn’t, I’m going to accept.”
    “Well, it’s usually presidents who join boards in the afterlife, but I don’t think there’s any law against a first lady doing the same.”
    “Any personal objections?”
    “If there were, I wouldn’t air them here.”
    “I’m sorry,” she giggled. “I have wine taken, and I’m a little giddy.”
    “You need to be giddy more often,” Will said.
    “In time.”
    “Take the offer,” he said, “but all of you, not a word to anyone until we’re well out of office. I think next spring might be a good time for an announcement.”
    “May I tell the other members of the board?” Mike asked.
    “You may not. It will be a nice surprise for them.” Will turned to his wife. “Well, we have an excuse to keep the apartment at the Carlyle instead of looking for something cheaper.”
    “I’ll pick up the maintenance on the place,” Kate said.
    “I may take you up on that,” Will said. He raised his glass. “Congratulations to all of you.”
    —
    A car pulled up in front of a shop in Soho, and Habib got out and rapped on the glass door. It was unlocked by a woman, and Habib went back to the car and opened the door for Jasmine, who ran inside.
    “I’ll park the car,” Habib said, then left. “I’ll be back in… how long?”
    “That depends on what you wish done,” the woman said. She was of Middle Eastern extraction, tall, with long black hair pulled up in a bun.
    “Shampoo, cut, coloring,” Jasmine said.
    “Two hours,” the woman said to Habib, who left, closing the door behind