She laughed. “Right. Well, with Simone I may need hazard pay.”
“You got it, Toots. And I’ll send a case of Blardonnay to your home. Just come to DVN tonight at midnight, ready to crack the whip.”
“Okay. That works out well, actually, since I’m teaching a drama class at the school tonight at nine.” She referred to the Dragon Nest Academy where her daughter attended.
“Excellent. I’ll let Gordon know to expect you. Thanks, Maggie!” Gregori hung up. “Yes!” He punched the air, then called Gordon but was sent to voice mail. Hardly surprising given how much Blissky the director had drunk. He was probably passed out under a table somewhere.
After leaving a message, Gregori tossed his suit coat on the couch, then removed his cuff links and rolled up his sleeves. He now had twenty-eight minutes to gather information and formulate his plans before falling into his death-sleep.
He sat at his desk and wrote, Strategies for Dealing with the President at the top of a yellow legal pad. Two lines down, he wrote, Plan A, and described it. This was basically what Roman, Angus, and Sean wanted him to do. Convince the president and his advisors that all Vamps were safe and utterly harmless. Then he would beg the president to protect them from those mean-spirited vampire haters who wanted to kill them.
He frowned. This plan did a good job at keeping their secrets, but how could he negotiate from such a weak position? And why would the president believe they were safe and harmless after seeing the video where Connor decapitated Casimir?
He dropped down two lines and wrote, Plan B. Instead of playing the victim, he’d present himself as a helpful ally. He’d reveal how well MacKay S&I had worked with Sean Whelan’s Stake-Out team. In fact, two MacKay S&I employees were former CIA agents, and another two were formerly employed by the FBI. He could also reveal that the British government already knew about Vamps and had a healthy working relationship with them. He’d tell the story about how Angus MacKay had received a medal for rescuing some British Air Force guys during World War II.
This plan made more sense to Gregori, but he knew it had a few drawbacks. It could ultimately lead the government into using the Vamps, making them do their dirty work. And the president would probably want to know how Angus had managed to accomplish his secret mission behind enemy lines.
That brought Gregori to Plan C. Reveal some of the powers that Vamps possess. Explain the danger that the Malcontents presented to the mortal world. And then convince the president that only the Vamps were capable of destroying the Malcontents.
This was the boldest plan, but also the most dangerous. Some powers, like mind control and memory wipes, could appear too threatening. If the government suspected how powerful the Vamps truly were, they might condone the murderous acts of vampire slayers. Basically he had to persuade the president that the Vamps were friendly and committed to keeping mortals safe and protected.
It would help if he knew more about the man he would be dealing with. President Laurence Tucker.
He Googled the president’s bio on his laptop. Shameful, he supposed, for an American to know so little about current affairs, but why bother to keep up with presidents who could change every four years? He’d left that world behind.
Or so he had thought. Now he was being dragged back into it. He grabbed another stress ball.
He scanned quickly through a summary of President Tucker’s early years. A stint in the U.S. Navy, where he acquired the nickname Torpedo. Graduated from Harvard Law School. Made a name for himself as a tough D.A., combating organized crime. Served as state attorney general for four years before running for Congress. After four years in the House, he ran for the Senate. The media had claimed the Torpedo was blasting his way through Washington straight to the White House. They had been right.
Gregori yawned and dropped the stress ball. So what if Tucker was starting his second term? Eight years was nothing compared to the hundred-year stint of a Coven Master. And a president’s power was measly compared to what a Vamp could do.
He studied a photo taken of Tucker and his wife, Belinda, when he’d first campaigned for the Senate fourteen years ago. His hair had been brown back then, not gray like it was now. His wife, blond and perky, waved and smiled at the camera.
Gregori glanced over at VANNA. “I’ve found the perfect job for you.”
He scrolled down further to look at more photos. There was Senator Tucker with his wife and children: a pretty blond girl who looked like her mother and a son with brown hair like his dad. The perfect all-American family, all with perfect smiles. Even the golden retriever in front of the kids was smiling.
Gregori read the caption underneath. The dog was named Grover. The boy, Lincoln. The girl, Madison. Sheesh! Had Tucker purposely named his children and pets in a way to further his political career? The dog was even wearing a stars-and-stripes bandana around his neck.