Contagious

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It had to be a joke.

Being hazed on the first day of work was nothing new, but John Gutierrez had never thought someone would have the balls to prank him on this first day.

On Inauguration Day.

One simply did not haze the president of the United States.

“Murray, I’m not finding the humor in this,” John said. “The country has some very serious issues to deal with, and this goes beyond the realm of good taste.”

Murray Longworth looked surprised. “A… joke? This is no joke, Mister President.”

Of course it was. John Gutierrez hadn’t been born yesterday.

He looked around the Oval Office, gauging the reaction from his key advisers. Tom Maskill, his twitchy deputy chief of staff, was trying and failing to look nonplussed. Secretary of Defense Donald Martin sat back on an antique couch, his legs crossed. Donald was old-school Washington: tall, white, graying hair, tailored suit… looked like he was made of plantation money. Chief of Staff Vanessa Colburn sat on a striped chair. In appearance she was Donald’s polar opposite—female, black and young. Her no-nonsense poker face carried a cold stare that could freeze you where you stood. At the moment, that stare was fixed directly on one Murray Long-worth, deputy director of the CIA.

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