Page 10 of Air Force One
“You’re in the hot seat; never let it become too comfortable and you’ll do okay. Sadly, there’s a fair chance that it’s yours now.”
“But—”
“Four-engine failure. You need to get Miranda Chase to?—”
“Apparently General Nason already took care of that.”
“She’s an easy woman to doubt. Take my advice—don’t.”
Sarah had barely met the woman other than at yesterday’s wedding. They’d only worked together tangentially, except for once, and that had lasted under thirty minutes—four years ago. That scattered her thoughts in several directions. One of Sarah’s strengths was processing all those different paths simultaneously—or close enough that no one had been able to prove to her satisfaction that she did otherwise.
The President had chosen to give Miranda and Andi the first White House wedding in eighteen years. Okay, Miranda Chase needed listening to, at least until Sarah could make up her own mind about the woman’s reliability.
An attack? Or a maintenance issue? Assume the worst, hope for the best, and shoot down the middle. She needed to get the military moving, at least at the command level, so she had to keep this short.
“I assume that you’re attempting to return to the coast, Roy?”
“So I’m told. It’s only been five minutes, but I’m told we won’t make it.”
“I’ll make sure a rescue team is headed your way.” She waved a hand at Felicia, who sat at the conference table, picked up another line, and began issuing orders.
She heard Felicia say, “Give them no reason, Admiral, we need to keep it the hell off CNN. Just get their asses moving.”
Felicia gave her a helpless look and held out the phone in her direction.
Sarah didn’t even bother taking it. Instead she half shouted, “Do it, Admiral. On my authority as Vice President and—” she swallowed hard “—acting President Sarah Feldman.”
Felicia listened for a moment, nodded, and hung up. Then she dialed again to make sure a couple of escort jets were scrambled in Air Force One’s direction.
Sarah turned her attention back to the President.
Roy Cole actually had the wherewithal to laugh briefly. “You’ll do great, Sarah. Maybe we’ll get a Miracle on the Hudson moment.”
She didn’t manage to join in his laugh. Captain Sullenberger had managed to ease an Airbus A320 down on the perfectly calm surface of the Hudson River after a bird strike had killed both his engines. He was also a glider pilot and truly had performed a modern miracle, saving every single life. Along with every other New Yorker, she’d been transfixed by the coverage for hours—which had included numerous experts saying that what he’d done was technically impossible.
Sarah tapped the mute key and selected the intercom again. “Get me the current sea state off the Delaware coast.”
The Marine responded immediately, which meant he’d been monitoring the call. “It’s a Four, ma’am.” This time she’d take the efficiency over any privacy concerns. From the family vacations of her youth out to Montauk at the tip of Long Island, she knew exactly what that meant. Sea State 4 translated as two-meter-high waves ready to catch a wing tip and shatter a 747.
She released the intercom and unmuted the line to Air Force One. “We’ll hope for the best, Mr. President.”
“Plan for the worst and shoot down the middle, as you always say. I’ll gladly take the middle on this.”
“Me too, Mr. President. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Yes, Sarah Feldman. Trust your people, but moreover, trust your gut. Goodbye.”
It took her a moment to manage, “Goodbye, Roy.”
But he’d already hung up the phone.
8
“I’m sorry. The order only stipulates the admission of Ms. Chase.”
“No. No. No! No!” Miranda wrapped both hands around Andi’s upper arm as the guards tried to separate them. Meg set up a loud whine and leaned hard against her calf.
The Beast had descended into the parking garage under the Treasury Building and dropped them at the entry to the tunnel that led to the White House basement.
