Read Online The White House: A Flynn Carroll Thriller by Whitley Strieber - Free Book Online Page A

as hell wasn’t interested in any midnight calls from Bill, as if that would ever happen. They probably linked up only rarely, every few years perhaps, when they both happened to be full of booze and memories at the same time.
    Flynn examined the lock. It was an ordinary pin/tumbler mechanism, all brass. He took out his pick kit and dipped a snake rake into the slit. He bounced the pins, but not by simply putting pressure on the rake and hoping for the best. He had a practiced touch, and the pins were soon all on the shear line.
    As he drew the door open, he heard the beginnings of a slight creak. He froze, listening for stirring from either room. Bill continued to rumble, but there came from Lorna’s room the sounds of two people, and neither of them was asleep. There were faint, pleasured sighs, all female.
    Like Eleanor Roosevelt in her time, Lorna Greene kept girls. Flynn didn’t judge one way or the other, but he did open the door far enough to get a look at her, so that he could do the visual check he felt was necessary.
    For a dizzying moment, he thought Cissy was in bed with her, but then he saw that the fan of blond hair belonged to Ginny Bowers, Lorna’s young secretary.
    He drew the door closed, relocked it with the rake, then slipped out into the softly lit corridor, closing the president’s door behind him.
    His Secret Service buddy was right there, right in his face. “Seven minutes,” he said. “I was about to hit the alarm.”
    â€œI didn’t realize that you were planning to resign.”
    â€œI’m not.”
    â€œIf you’d tripped that alarm, you would have.”
    He glared at Flynn. Flynn didn’t glare back. He just looked at the guy and waited until he’d looked away and dropped his shoulders.
    â€œI’m gonna be in the Closet Hall for most of the night. I’ll be patrolling at random. You’re not to address me again, and sure as hell not to interfere, not if you want to keep working here and avoid criminal charges.”
    The man’s lips turned up with contempt. “Criminal charges?”
    â€œThis is a national security matter. It’s way above your clearance level. If you impede me or fail to obey my orders, you’re going to be looking not only at getting your ass torched, you’ll be facing a treason charge.”
    The smile went away. So did the agent.
    Flynn crossed into the Closet Hall and tried Cissy’s bedroom door. Also locked, which was good. Because this door opened into a common area, it had a better lock on it, electronic. Using his Slagel pick, he was through it in under a minute. The room was lit by two night-lights, one near the bed and another glowing from the bathroom.
    Cissy’s canopied bed from their Texas ranch stood against the wall opposite the windows. In fact, now that he looked around, he saw that the room was an exact duplicate of the one from the ranch, right down to the Kit-Cat clock on the wall with its swinging tail and phosphorescent cat eyes.
    She lay very still, on her back. Her breathing was shallow. She wasn’t asleep and she was armed. The weapon was under the covers, in her right hand.
    â€œCissy, release the gun.”
    â€œFlynn!”
    â€œHey there.” He stepped over to the bed.
    A smile lit her face. She sat up and patted the covers. He dropped down into the grace of her perfume. When his old buddy Mac had romanced her, she’d been underage. She wasn’t underage now.
    â€œHow’s Di?” she asked.
    â€œGood.”
    â€œOh, God, Flynn, what happened?”
    â€œWe’re working on it.”
    â€œFlynn, I need to know or I’m going to go insane here.”
    â€œThere’s a lot of legal issues.”
    â€œI signed the form!”
    â€œThat’s a confidentiality agreement, not a clearance document. You’ve never been cleared.”
    â€œFlynn, we’re going to be killed, aren’t we? Or worse—like