No, I’m not going to tell Leo and Jordan I asked about this, either. They don’t need to know. Leo might possibly worry that I’m whacking that hornet’s nest with a very big stick.
Which, of course, Iam.
But after last night’s discussion I want Belyaevskin on my radar in case there are any developments. This way, it looks like I independently raised it as part of a follow-up, and that should provide Leo’s sources adequate cover. It’s not unusual for me to ask for updates like this.
It also might shake a few rotten apples loose in the NSA and expose anyone who’s been sitting on intel. No one person far down the chain can adequately smother known information in our system after it’s been flagged and people start researching. Depending on what happens tomorrow, how my request is responded to, I can kick off a chain reaction of either staying on top of this guy or cleaning house because it looks like balls were dropped.
Either way, it will appear to have happened organically, triggered by me and leaving Leo and his sources in the clear. Besides, Leo’s plate just got pretty full, between the responsibilities of his new job in the East Wing and with the last major task he has to handle for us looming over him.
With the controlled chaos of our wedding behind us, the next piece of personal business is our honeymoon. Leo’s in charge of planning the logistics. When he left the destination up to me I weighed a lot of factors before declaring I wanted to visit Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons. We’ve decided to delay our honeymoon until at least late April. That way, we won’t impact tourists as much, because many of the park’s facilities and lodgings don’t officially open until later in May. Meaning Leo will be able to arrange for us and the Secret Service to stay out there.
My decision was based on a lot of things, but especially on Jordan. Jordan’s never been out there before. Unless he went somewhere with Leo during one of their infrequent visits to LA to see Leo’s family, Jordan’s never really had a chance to explore. You can’t call our frequent flying “travel” because it all has to do with work. And what we do see mostly is an airport tarmac, the world passing outside the Beast’s heavily armored windows as we’re transported, or from the window of a helo while we’re flown somewhere.
That’s not exactly sightseeing. Plus, it’s been far too damn long since I’ve been able to enjoy an actual vacation.
My request to Leo is to plan it as a trip forJordan, not a trip for “us.” My other requirement regards our lodging, that it has to be a situation where Jordan can sleep with us without it being detected by the public. Either a suite, or adjoining rooms, or something. No sneaking back and forth—I want himwithus.
My Master smiles, kisses me, and assures me he will make it happen.
That I’m not to worry about a single detail.
I have a feeling Leo will have a talk with the official photographer about capturing some candid shots that will never make the archives and be for our use only.
After my PDB I return upstairs and we all spend the day together as a family, cooking and talking and watching TV. Bowling together downstairs. Followed by a private tour of the Renwick Gallery next door, which Jordan loves and arranged for us. Capped off by another night where the three of us collapse in bed in a cuddle pile and fall asleep.
The next morning, our families depart the White House. I don’t even mind the press pool staged outside taking video and pictures as we all hug before Leo’s family and my parents climb into the SUV ferrying them to Andrews. They’re all flying on the same plane, a charter, because with their Secret Service details it’s logistically easier. They’ll stop in Nebraska first, at Offutt, to drop off Mom and Dad and refuel, before continuing to California for Leo’s family.
Even Kayley has a detail. She’d tried to talk Leo out of it in the initial days after I proposed. But then a disturbed, violent man who drank too much toxic right-wing punch and was armed with a knife showed up at her office and demanded to speak to her so she could give me a message. She hid in a supply closet while her agents took care of him, tackling him and handcuffing him before he was handed off to local law enforcement.
After that, Kayley decided she was fine with having a full detail. It certainly makes it safer for her to date.
Sometimes it bothers me Stella and Ellis have refused Secret Service protection but that’s another of those things I’ve let go of trying to control. My sister is a wealthy adult able to afford private security. I’m not about to enter that fray when I’m obviously not wanted there.
Meanwhile, our families’ departure means I have to get back to work. It is a Monday, after all.
Jordan and I head to the West Wing while Leo trudges over to the East Wing to his new office. He’s still getting his legs under him. Many of his staff are holdovers from Chris’ tenure and, thankfully, stayed on at my request when I took office since I didn’t have a First Spouse back then. Before I proposed to Leo, Jordan closely worked with the de facto “chief of staff” over there to make sure any events that office usually coordinates were handled in conjunction with my office. Leo’s keeping the chief of staff on as his because she was Chris’ chief of staff and he already has a good working relationship with her.
My PDB is next and once I’m alone in my study with the two analysts briefing me today—different ones than yesterday—I get right to the point as soon as they lower their asses into their respective seats.
“Happy Monday morning. Tell me the latest regarding Pasha Belyaevskin.”
I am prepared to go POTUS on them if they have no clue what I’m talking about, or if they try to stall me.
However, I am pleasantly surprised.
The senior analyst leading my briefing today is Tina Schopen, and she’s one of my favorites because she doesn’t mince words.
“He is currently a person of interest in several ongoing investigations, sir.” She proceeds to tell me all about him, including thumbing to the divider in my briefing book where the information about the update is located. It’s farther along than where I’d stopped reading earlier this morning after the Morning Book was delivered to me upstairs.
As Leo indicated, he’s dropped off the radar. There are alerts with Homeland Security, the FBI, CIA, Interpol, and a host of other countries and agencies.
Except he’s disappeared. Along with most of the known monetary assets under his control.
Two months ago, the girlfriend who was our primary source of intel died in a car wreck that was nothing more than a dumb, unfortunate accident—not an accident made to look like an accident. A car traveling in front of her at a high rate of speed blew a tire in the rain on a wet road, lost control, and she and several other vehicles ran into it. Like many drivers over there, most of the cars involved in the accident had active dash cams, showing exactly what happened. Including the car that blew the tire.
Belyaevskin disappeared less than forty-eight hours later.
The widespread belief is that she was killed in a legit accident but, because she lived with him, during the process of going through her things after her death he likely discovered evidence of her cooperation and it spooked him, sending him on the run.
