Page 11 of Air Force One
“The President-elect wishes to see you, Ms. Chase, immediately.”
“No. No. No! No!” She held on tighter. Meg’s whine escalated. It was a sure sign that she wasn’t imagining things, but was actually in a high-stress situation. High stress and her autism were never a good combination. Meg’s validation did offer some comfort by confirming that what she was feeling was actually her real feelings, but not enough for her to let go of Andi.
“It will be okay, Miranda.” Andi kept her voice calm. “I’ll go to NTSB headquarters and find the others. We can?—”
“No! Drake is dying or dead already, and he is separated from Lizzy. I won’t be separated from you.”
The guard stared at her as if he’d just been…poked with something very sharp. She liked that metaphor, but it didn’t make her feel any better about not being with Andi. This time she wouldn’t be freeing up a hand to pat herself on the back.
“I will not be separated from you.” Miranda knew she was repeating herself. Interesting. The repetition did serve the purpose of reinforcing her initial statement. Maybe she’d finally found the purpose of repetition, though that didn’t appear to be how most people used it. “I—” No, a third repetition would serve no discernable purpose. So she just held on tight and said, “I refuse.” It was a repetition of sentiment but not a literal restatement. That too worked…appropriately.
Another car pulled up behind the Beast and Lizzy stepped out. Her face… Something was wrong with her face, but Miranda couldn’t tell what. And she wasn’t letting go of Andi’s arm to pull out her notebook with the emotions reference page to figure it out.
“Hi, Miranda. What’s wrong?”
She briefly envied Lizzy’s ability to read emotions without a cheat sheet. “They’re trying to separate me from Andi.”
“Pull out your IDs.”
Miranda released one hand from around Andi biceps long enough to hand over her ID. Then held onto Andi again. Andi stopped Meg’s whining by leaning down to scoop her up. She swarmed so strongly into Miranda’s arms that she had to release one hand from Andi’s biceps but she kept hold with the other. Meg lay her head heavily on Miranda’s shoulder, which felt nice.
Lizzy took their IDs and her own to the security desk. “Three people with Yankee White clearance to enter the White House.” Yankee White wasn’t merely cleared to be near the President; they were all three cleared to be armed in his presence.
“I’m sorry, General. The White House is crashed, locked down, and that isn’t good enough to get through.”
“I’m not going into a crash without Andi. I don’t care if it’s a plane or the White House. I’m not.” Miranda knew she wasn’t making the most sense but kept her grip on Andi—though she didn’t tighten it further as she didn’t want to cut off the blood supply to Andi’s arm. Andi was the only thing that did make sense at the moment.
Lizzy pulled out her phone, dialed a number, and tapped for the speaker.
“General Gray-Nason. How close are you?” Miranda recognized the President-elect’s voice.
“Stuck at the Treasury Building Tunnel entrance with Miranda Chase and Andi Wu. They aren’t letting Captain Wu through as she’s not on the cleared list. Miranda is finding that upsetting.”
“Well, shit! Tell whatever agent is blockading them that if they don’t want a personal ass-kicking from the President-elect, i.e. yours truly, they’d better clear her damn fast. Better yet. Kali,” she called out, “Kick whoever’s ass for me.”
That was enough for the guard to beep all three of their IDs. Two agents led them through the barrier and into the long tunnel. A pair of massive doors closed behind them, sealing off the tunnel. The tunnel itself was comforting; Miranda liked the feeling of being enclosed. It was wood-paneled and as well-lit as a hotel corridor—the nice kind.
“We’re on our way.” Lizzy disconnected the call.
As they were let through, one of the guards whispered, “Is the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs really dead?”
“Maybe. Roy too.” Miranda answered because she finally did recognize Lizzy’s expression—she was very close to being violently sick.
“The President?” The security door slammed shut behind them, so she didn’t have a chance to interpret the odd tone of his voice—it had sort of…squeaked.
The tunnel from the Treasury Building to the White House was long enough for Miranda to scrape back some degree of internal equilibrium. Enough, at least, for Meg to slide down and once again trot along beside her.
They entered the White House grounds underneath the East Wing, passing through it, the Residence, and the West Wing to reach the PEOC. The Secret Service all knew something bad was happening, but the rest of the White House appeared to be operating relatively normally. Phones rang, people talked, but no one was allowed to move from their desks. As the three of them were escorted past every lockdown barrier without a single hesitation, she could feel their eyes following her.
Miranda didn’t like being looked at, but as long as Andi held her hand, she would stay focused on that.
9
The two-hundred-and-seventy-foot-long, medium-endurance US Coast Guard cutter Bear stood ten meters off the pier at USCG Base Portsmouth, Virginia.
“Long damn cruise, Skipper.” His XO made it sound as if it had been five years instead of three months.
“We got it done, Zeb.” But it felt good to be home. Just like his father before him, he’d been sailing out of Portsmouth for most of twenty years. He breathed in the atypically warm air rich with evergreen and dead leaves. Damp, without the heavy humidity of the southern reaches felt as good as a shower. Even the busy industry of Portsmouth Base brought along the familiar taste of metal hot from welding and ship’s paint. It smelled like nowhere else in the world.
