PART 1
She was scratching her knee with her index finger. She always did when she was irritated and this small, telling gesture was enough to make Mr. Falton's hand tremble as he covered the mouth piece of the telephone.
Her finger stopped as she held out her hand to her assistant who stood politely by the door. Her assistant immediately rushed to her side and placed a notebook in Miss Fowler-Kerry's expectant hand.
In what seemed to be one fluid movement, the commanding woman flipped the book open to a precise page, scribbled in a note and snapped it shut, handing it back to her assistant. Smoothing out her skirt and rising, Miss Fowler-Kerry moved to exit the room, her entourage of assistants, executives and political advisers hot on her heels.
Mr. Falton, still holding his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone, jumped to address the woman before she left, "Madam Kerry!"
"Check your mode of address, sir!" fumed the elder executive to her left.
"F-f-forgive me," stuttered Mr. Falton, "Madam Fowler-Kerry. But...the statement. The press is waiting. What are you going to tell them?"
Her pale blue eyes fixed on Mr. Falton, and he tried not to wither under the glare.
"The truth Mr. Falton, surely," she coolly replied. As she turned to leave, sadistic smirks were exchanged among members of her party while the disturbed Mr. Falton was left alone, trembling under the looming ceiling of the Fowler-Kerry Mansion living room.
