Divide and Conquer Read Online Free PDF

impressed by the imposing G. P. A. Healy painting of Abraham Lincoln or the magnificent Blue Room chairs bought by James Monroe or even the secret service officers. Alexander had seen paintings and chairs and police officers in Los Angeles. The spectacular chandelier in the State Dining Room was barely worth an upward glance, and the Rose Garden was just grass and flowers. But as they crossed the lawn toward E Street, the young boy finally saw something that impressed him.
    Horse chestnuts.
    The dark green chestnuts growing from the stout trees resembled nothing so much as little floating mines with Herz horns projecting from all sides. Alexander was convinced that they were little bombs to keep prowlers out. They’d bump their heads, and the chestnuts would explode. Alexander’s father played along with the idea, even snatching a few of the chestnuts—carefully, of course—so they could plant them in the ground back at home. Harleigh finally busted her dad by stepping on one of the newly planted chestnuts and failing to blow up.
    Sharon had never approved of the deception. She felt that it encouraged militarism. Hood felt that it was just a boy’s imagination at work, nothing more.
    It was rare that Paul Hood came to the White House without thinking of the horse chestnut trees. Tonight was no different, except that for the first time in years, Hood had the strong desire to go out back and pluck a few. Bring them to his son as a token, a memory of a good time shared. Besides, walking around the grounds would have been preferable to what he was doing.
    He had dressed in his tuxedo, driven to the White House, and presented his calligraphic invitation at the East Appointment Gate. A junior secret service agent met Hood there and escorted him to the Red Room, which adjoined the State Dining Room. The president and First Lady were still in the Blue Room, which was the next room over. Though no one said so, the smaller Red Room—typically used for entertaining by the first ladies—was for the B-level guests.
    Hood recognized but did not really know many of the people who were there. He knew some of them from conferences, some from briefings, and many from other dinners he attended here. The White House had two hundred fifty state dinners every year, and he was invited to at least fifteen of those. His background in Los Angeles government—which really meant knowing movie stars—finance, and espionage made him an ideal dinner guest. He could talk to generals, world leaders, diplomats, reporters, senators, and their spouses, informing and entertaining them and also not offending them. That was important.
    Sharon usually came with him to those dinners. Being in the health-food business, she was generally unhappy with the fare, though she always loved the settings, which were from different administrations, different centuries. When Sharon couldn’t make it, Op-Center’s press liaison Ann Farris went with Hood. She liked any food that was put in front of her and, unlike Sharon, enjoyed talking to whoever she was seated with.
    This was the first time Hood had come stag. Regardless of how the White House might try to position it, Hood did not consider Mala Chatterjee as his date. The UN secretary-general was also coming alone and was assigned a seat at Hood’s table, directly to his left.
    Hood opened the door and looked into the long, chandelier-lit dining room. Fourteen round tables had been brought into the dining room. Each one was set for ten people. Hood’s invitation had said that he was seated at table two, near the center of the room. That was good. He was rarely seated so close to the president. If things got tense between him and Chatterjee, Hood would be able to exchange knowing glances with the First Lady. Megan Lawrence had been raised in Santa Barbara, California. She had spent time with Hood when he was mayor of Los Angeles, and they got to know each other quite well. She was a smart, classy lady with a dry