CHAPTER 8

Sheriff Edward entered the President's office, a file in hand.

After being admitted, he stood before Cyril, bowed, and remained silent, waiting for Cyril to speak first.

"Any problem, Sheriff?" Cyril asked.

"No Your Excellency. It's about the PBP," Edward replied.

"And?"

"I came to show you the groups and positions". Edward said calmly.

"How many groups do we have?" Cyril asked as he whirled round in his chair.

"Nine, Your Excellency," Edward responded.

"Proceed," came the reply.

Edward lay the file on the table and began to explain, "The first group is the Pink Bell, and they are positioned as the President's carpet. They escort you in and out of the White House, maybe to the car or to the room or for the White House dinner and other places you would love to go to, or to escort you to meetings within the White House."

Cyril leaned back in his chair and whirled around listening to Edward.

Edward continued, "The second group is the Crystal Bell, and they are positioned as partial amenities. They fix anything broken that is basic and is within the control of repair."

"Fix?!" exclaimed Cyril. "I can provide money for something new; we don't need to settle for old things."

"Not trivial matters, Your Excellency, such as broken pipes and wells, shattered flower vases and any items requiring repair will be managed by them."

"It doesn't matter; the money will be provided, and it is their responsibility to receive it and make the replacement."

"Yes, Your Excellency, the third group, known as the Silver Bell, serve as kitchen dealers. They are responsible for maintaining the cleanliness of the kitchen at all times and ensuring that all food ingredients are available round the clock. They are not allowed to cook for the President, neither are they allowed to serve the President his meals."

Cyril nodded.

Edward continued, "The fourth group is the Copper Bell. They are positioned as stewards and stewardesses."

Cyril nodded again.

"The fifth group, known as the Golden Bell, serve as drivers. Their sole permission is to transport VIP council members to and from the White House, excluding the President."

Edward turned the page and read on: "The sixth group, known as the Iron Bell, serves as security and bodyguards, safeguarding the entire White House and its extension. The seventh group, the Green Bell, functions as farmers and gardeners, cultivating and harvesting crops for the White House, maintaining the ornamental surroundings, and securing the gardens and fields. The eighth group, the Black Bell, is tasked with cleaning duties. The ninth group, the Purple-diamond Bell, stands as replacements and support, aiding overburdened workers and stepping in if any employee is dismissed for misconduct," Edward concluded as he closed the file.

"Thanks" Cyril appreciated

"Sir?" Edward said as he looked at Cyril in the eye, trying to signal him on what to do.

Cyril understood "Go ahead". Cyril said.

Edward looked from Cyril to Bobby.

"It's fine, he's privy to all my affairs," Cyril remarked.

"Your Excellency, regarding the thief..." Edward inquired.

"I'm still contemplating the decision," Cyril responded.

"Imprisonment or fixing her into a group?" Edward questioned.

"That depends on my frame of mind at the time," Cyril stated.

Edward bowed as he gave the file to Bobby for Cyril to read later on and excited the office.

"Your Excellency, the profiles of all the workers in the cottage are inside this file, so the remaining days are left for you to prepare and group them to your satisfaction," Bobby said to Cyril.

But Cyril kept silent and was lost in thought.

Cyril was confused, because he knew how his father always conducted his PBP, he always did it well and shared it to people based on what they could do and their abilities, and everything always turned out great and this was his first time.

Cyril found himself thinking of Maryann unexpectedly.

Despite his aversion to her, she occupied his thoughts.

What could she be doing at the moment?

Could she be with James?

Was she alright? Had she been released from the sickbay?

Cyril shook his head to remind himself that it wasn't right to fall for someone like Maryann, and he had to harden his heart against her, but there was one thing that bothered him.

Which group would be suitable for Maryann?

And another fact, she was a thief.

He thought that if he kept her, he would keep on saving her from her punishment, and it made him look miserable most times, a feeling he had never felt before.

He had two options: to turn his back against her and harden his heart to avoid being biased and creating a corrupt government.

He was considering the two options: either to imprison her so she could learn her lesson and be removed from his life, or to assign her a role in the PBP involving hard labor, in a position unrelated to him, ensuring he would never have to see her again.

Bobby pressed his index finger to the wired secret agent earpiece in his ear and murmured.

But Cyril wasn't paying attention as he was trying to go through the profiles, Bobby had given to him.

"Excuse me, Your Excellency, may I step outside for a moment?" Bobby inquired.

"Sure," Cyril responded with a nod.

Bobby bowed respectfully as he exited the room.

Bobby stepped outside the office and motioned towards the bodyguards that guarded the gold door.

"Where is she?" Bobby asked the guard.

The guards stepped aside and Maryann stood in the corner, hands wrapped around her body as she shivered tremendously.

Maryann looked up to see Bobby approaching her.

She breathed into her hands for warmth, as the hall was chilled from the strong air conditioning.

Bobby watched as Maryann trembled like a lost kitten in the snow in her torn nylon dress.

"What are you doing here?" Bobby asked Maryann.

Maryann stood upright, still shivering, and said, "I'm so sorry, sir. I came to see the President."

"Do you think the President is someone you could come in here and randomly see on your own accord?" Bobby inquired intently.

"I'm so sorry sir, I wanted to thank him for...." Maryann began.

Bobby interrupted her abruptly, "Go back to the cottage," Bobby ordered, as he turned to leave.

Maryann hurried over and grasped his hand.

Bobby turned to look at her.

Her hands were icy cold, her lips were dry and pale.

Bobby cast a look of pure disdain and disgust at Maryann that she was compelled to release his hand.

Bobby looked at the guards, silently signaling them to take her away as he walked away.

As Bobby entered the office, Cyril looked up and remarked, "You took longer than expected."

"I'm so sorry, Your Excellency, something came up," Bobby replied, bowing and smiling.

"You look like you've just picked up trash," Cyril said with a grin, rising from his seat.

He then turned to Bobby and inquired, "Do I have any more appointments or meetings today?"

"My apologies, Your Excellency," Bobby said, bowing as he hurried to retrieve the iPad from the table.

"Yes, Your Excellency, the Triumph Kings Chairman has scheduled an urgent appointment with you by eight p.m. You also have two meetings between nine and ten p.m. with the Arab president and the Supreme Council. These are the most crucial meetings of the week, and you must not miss them. They attempted to meet with you two weeks ago but were unable due to your busy schedule. Today was the only opportunity I had to arrange it..." Bobby's report was abruptly interrupted as one of the guards from the gold door bursted into the office, hands on his knees, gasping for breath.

Cyril and Bobby stared at him, astonished.

"Sir...!" The guard addressed Bobby.

"What happened?" Bobby inquired.

After bowing to Cyril and catching his breath, the guard spoke.

"She has fainted," he announced.

"Who?!" Cyril demanded.

Taking a deep breath, the guard finally said, "The thief."