CLOUD NINE

Chapter 36

A young lady appeared outside the gates of the Presidential residence in the early hours of the morning, when the city was just waking up from sleep. The street was still quiet. She stood there, playing with her flaming red hair and nervously fidgeting with her dress till one of the guards beckoned to her.

"How may we help you, miss?" one of them asked as she approached them, her hands folded at her back. She was nervously biting her plump lips and a huge grin was pasted on her freckled face.

"Hi, I'm Lydia. The president needed a personal assistant. There was an advertisement. I came for the interview," she screeched in a high voice, " Maybe I'm a bit early but..." she looked around nervously, her big brown eyes taking up the scene around.

"I'm sorry, Miss, but there has been a mistake. The president hasn't given any such order. I'm positive about it," the other guard now straightened his blue uniform and addressed her directly.

"But..." a set of pleading eyes met his. Suddenly the guard's eyes glazed up. His knees were visibly shaking. The girl cocked her head to the other guard who stared at her as if in a trance, his eyes ballooning from their sockets.

"Oh no. I'm so sorry. I forgot all about the advertisement," the first guard was now fumbling with the lock on the gate.

"Yes. We're sorry. Actually, there's so much work and..." the other guy mused, shaking his head seriously.

"It's okay. I'll make sure Sir Fletcher doesn't get to hear about it," the girl gave a toothy grin, revealing the braces on her teeth.

"Go straight, Miss Lydia and turn right. Press the doorbell and the butler will get the door," the first guard opened the gate just wide enough for her to slip through.

She nodded and moved along the gravel lined path, the stones rustling under her feet. The gate closed behind her with a clang. Her heart was beating wildly as she floundered with the switch, before pressing the bell for the door.

A man in a crisp black suit opened the door and looked questioningly at her.

"I'm sorry but I came for the interview. Sir Fletcher gave an advertisement in the E-Paper yesterday for a job as a personal assistant," she smiled sweetly.

"I don't know..."

The girl battled her eyelids at him. His eyes shot up in surprise, replaced by the same dreamy expression as the guards.

"Ah yes, I remember. Come in, Miss. The President will see you in a while," he said, ushering her in. She walked confidently through the artfully decorated verandahs with wooden panelling and exquisite paintings on either side. A plush blue carpet cushioned her feet as each step sank deeper into the extravagant luxury. Crystal glass chandeliers caught the light, shattering it into a thousand fragments which looked like diamonds dotting the wall.

"Here, have a seat," the butler gestured to a red velvet recliner. She sat gingerly, her nervousness making her edgy.

"Thank you,"she breathed, pretending to go over her curriculum vitae in her tablet device again. The butler finally left her alone. She took the opportunity to scan the room. There were CCTV cameras planted in the four corners where the ceiling met the walls. She had noticed cameras dotting the halls too. Each of them was flashing green and fully active. These people never compromised the security of their president.

She knew she had to be careful.

She pretended to dive into her small tablet case again. Casually she brought her hand to the top margin of her dress and grazed her finger against her brooch.

"Ouch!" she winced out loud, making a huge show of taking out the brooch and looking at it in disdain, sucking her fingers for emphasis. Then she shoved the thing into a pocket of her tablet carrier and went back to scrolling through her files again.

"The president is ready to see you," another man was at the door. He wore a pinstriped suit with a starched white shirt. The look of his clothes was enough to tell that he meant business.

"Don't know where that advertisement came from. We certainly hadn't placed any," he mused, leading her through another hallway, whose walls glimmered with cut mirrors, placed strategically. The light was dazzling.

"Oh!" she mumbled. The hacking and the page designing had been believable them. It had reached the open internet.

"You're lucky that the President thought he actually needs someone to work for him. He'll hire you if you're good enough."

The girl heaved a sigh of relief. One less problem then.

"Wait," the man had caught her shoulder to stop her. She stopped, her heart dropping. Had they suspected something?

The man's fingers were digging into the space below her collarbone.

"You're hurting me," she complained.

"Listen here, chick," he pinched her shoulders making her whimper and turned her towards him roughly, "If you have to work here, you need to keep us pleased, in every way possible."

She was repulsed by the very nature of his insinuations. In any other job, she'd have left then and there. But here, it was her duty to continue.

"Okay," she attempted to cower to look vulnerable.

"Good girl," his hands grazed over her neck once before he dragged her by the hand again. She shuddered but followed nevertheless. They stopped outside a set of large wooden doors with gleaming gold handles.

"Let me scan you, sugar," another voice breathed down on her neck, as a cold metal scanner poked her belly. She stiffened as the unknown man ran it over her skin as if scanning a piece of paper. He even made it a point to skim across her breast as he patted his way up with the scanner.

Her hands balled into fists and she longed to do something. One attempt from her side and she could rape his mind to shreds. She hadn't trained the mind control thing for nothing. But she let it go. A commotion in the very beggining of her job interview would raise unnecessary suspicion.

"Go now," he almost shoved her in, as she stumbled into the room. A big black chair was facing towards the window, a silhouette of a tall man visible through it.

"Take a seat, Miss," a gruff voice called.