Page 91 of Edge of Honor

“Yeah, it wasn’t good. Listen, Admiral, can I have a moment of your time outside?”

“Sure, let’s have a drink first. Then I can show you the boat. Just got her detailed. She looks fantastic.”

When Harvath had seen what a primo parking space the Admiral had snagged, he should have realized that the man had gotten to the club early. Seeing the glassiness in his eyes, and picking up a hint of a slur in his speech, it appeared that he was already a couple of rounds in.

“I’d love to see her,” Harvath replied. “In fact, let’s go now before it gets too dark.”

Thinking for a moment, the Admiral realized that was probably a good idea. Setting his almost-empty drink on the bar, he stated, “We’ll be right back.” Then, turning to Harvath, he motioned to the glass doors facing the water and said, “After you.”

Sitting on Dogue Creek, just past Ferry Point, the Mount Vernon Yacht Club’s narrow marina boasted over one hundred slips.Pier Pressurewas about halfway down.

As they walked—and once they were out of earshot of anyone else—Harvath explained the favor he needed.

“That’s it?” the Admiral asked. “I shove you off the stern and head home?”

“That’s it,” Harvath replied.

“Do I get to carry a gun?”

Harvath laughed. “I bet you already do.”

“True, but not when I am drinking. Which, I need to be honest with you about. I’ve already had a couple.”

“How about this? We can movePier Pressurefrom here up to my dock. I’ll drive and we can tie up there. You come up to the house, have some coffee, and watchSportsCenterfor a bit. By the time we need to set sail, you’ll be shipshape. Sound good?”

Harvath preferred this option since it would allow him to privately load all his gear via his own dock, rather than driving it down to the club and running the risk of witnesses. The fewer people who knew even the smallest of details, the better.

The Admiral gave him the thumbs-up. “Okay. I’m in.”

CHAPTER 47

WASHINGTON, D.C.

By the time Senator Blackwood had left his office, he had already received multiple messages from Vice President Cates’s chief of staff.

The VP’s remarks had been exceedingly well received by the public and were going viral. President Mitchell and his team were beyond pissed that Cates had undercut them. They were planning a presidential address to the nation and now had to figure out how to match the VP’s tone and tenor. The last thing Mitchell’s team wanted getting out was that the White House wasn’t in full unison. Via his remarks, Cates had backed them into a corner.

Blackwood loved it. He didn’t feel sorry for Mitchell and his team at all. In fact, he knew exactly what was going to happen next. The President was going to try to revert to the fiery nationalist he had been on the campaign trail. He would trot out his stump speech about how America needed to put Americans first, but there was just one problem. He wasn’t the outsider running against the establishment anymore. He was the President of the United States.Hewas the establishment. He was the one who had gone soft and wasn’t protecting the people.

And no matter what he said, no matter how soaring his rhetoric, Chuck Coughlin was going to tear him apart. Anything Mitchell promised, it would be too little, too late. Americans were dead. Mitchell was to blame. It was time for him to resign. America wouldn’t be safe until it had arealleader in the Oval Office.

All of which was correct. Mitchell had been a complete and unmitigated disaster. He’d been so clear-eyed, so tuned in to what the country needed when he’d been running for office. But the abrupt 180 once he got in, the almost total abandonment of what he had promised his voters he would do, was proof positive that he had been captured by the swamp.

The NATO Summit was a prime example. Mitchell had promised to pull out of the alliance, to stop footing their bills, and to force Europe to stand on their own two feet.

But ultimately that wasn’t what happened at all. He signed on to the Sky Shield initiative, touting the benefits for the defense industrial complex, and pushed the U.S. ever closer to war with Russia.

Initially, Blackwood hadn’t been able to understand the policy shifts, but the more he and Claire spoke, the clearer everything had become.

He had been ready to go after Mitchell hammer and tongs, but she’d been the one to talk him down, to take the long view. Publicly challenging the President would turn his supporters against Blackwood. The senator needed to be a loyal soldier. He needed to stand firmly by Mitchell’s side until it was no longer tenable to do so. Then, at that moment, he would explain to the President that, for the good of the country, it was time to resign.

Every wrong he suffered, every slight at Mitchell’s hand, was another chip in his political stack. His time was coming. All he had to do was play his cards patiently, wisely.

Claire Bennet was nothing short of brilliant. She was the best thing to have ever happened to him. The more he thought of her, the more he wanted her—and he had been thinking about her all day.

She had promised to top her performance on the terrace last night and he couldn’t wait to see what she had planned.

He had an exquisite bottle of Ruinart Blanc de Blancs on ice, two dozen oysters, and a large tin of Beluga caviar.

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