“What?”
“Your walk is very distinctive. Very free and open. This will change your gait.”
She made a face. “You mean it will bug me and make me limp.”
“A little.” He stepped back and critically tilted his head. “You'll probably be okay. Winter coats are bulky, and that's a plus. We won't stop for anything but gas between here and Des Moines.”
She stood up and went to the mirror in the bathroom. Her face looked plump, colorless, and ten years older. The middle part and cheek pads had completely changed the contours of her face.
“Remember to keep the cheek pads even or you'll look deformed.” Morgan was standing beside her with a contact case in his hand. His skin had the same ashy, sallow cast as her own. “It will be easier once we get the kit. Those cheek pads are used with professional theatricals and are much more comfortable.”
“I can hardly wait,” she said dryly. “What other little accessories do you have in store for me?”
“Nostril inserts to widen your nose. Tanning solution. A wig with a different hair color and style.” He was inserting the brown contact in his left eye. “It's not smart to get too complicated. If you're too uncomfortable you look uncomfortable, and that attracts attention. Or sometimes you forget to put something on and that can be fatal.”
“You know a lot about disguises.”
“It can help on occasion.”
“Where did you get the contacts?”
“I usually carry them with me. They're small and no trouble. These blue eyes are damn noticeable. They've gotten me into trouble more than once, and there's no telling when I might need a little camouflage.”
“Not in your business.”
He turned to look at her. “Right, not in my business.” He stuffed the case in his pocket. “Let's hit the road.”
The White House
Andreas was grandstanding as usual, Betworth thought with contempt as he watched the President and his beautiful First Lady move down the line of guests. His charm was at full wattage, and every man in the room would vaguely remember him as being as protective as their father, as companionable as their brother. Mix in a strong dash of sex appeal for the ladies and he was almost unbeatable.
But Betworth could have beaten him. He knew how to finesse and charm as well as Andreas. It was only that invisible aura of power that surrounded any president that made Andreas seem like Superman to the people around him.
However, Betworth had never been able to insinuate himself into the tight-knit group that surrounded Andreas. The bastard had always kept him at a distance, and it had become obvious to the power brokers on the Washington scene. Oh, well, he'd jumped over that hurdle.
“He's one gutsy guy, isn't he?”
He glanced over his shoulder to see Hank Ellswyth, the Senate Majority Leader, staring admiringly at Andreas.
“You'd think with all the threats swirling around him that he'd cancel this kind of soiree.” Ellswyth lifted his cocktail in a half salute. “Better him than me.”
“Not much danger here in the White House with all this security.” Betworth smiled. “But maybe you're right. Discretion is the better part of valor.”
“I didn't say he was making a mistake,” Ellswyth said quickly. “We can't let those terrorists scare us.”
“You'd never do that,” Betworth said. “Everyone knows what you stand for, Hank. We all rely on you. Andreas most of all.”
Andreas was pausing beside a distinguished older man with a mane of white hair and aristocratic features. A moment later the two strolled out onto the terrace.
“I wonder what he's up to with Shepard,” Ellswyth murmured. “They usually don't have much to say to each other.”
“No telling.” Betworth shrugged. “Maybe he's trying to show everybody he and the Vice President are a united front.”
“Well, Shepard's been right in the forefront lately. That speech at Arapahoe Junction was awesome. I didn't know he had it in him. His approval rating shot sky-high.”
“Well, we all have to answer the call in days like these.”
“I'm wondering what call the President is asking him to answer now,” Ellswyth murmured.
“Who knows? He can be a bit secretive. Not like you, Hank. We all appreciate your openness.”
Ellswyth smiled. “I'm just a simple guy from Missouri trying to do my job.”
Bullshit. There was nothing simple about Ellswyth. He was scheming and tap-dancing his heart out trying to position himself for the next presidential nomination. Betworth had no quarrel with that. Ambitious men were easier to manipulate than idealists. You promised them the world and they'd follow you anywhere.