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Scott smoothly guided Jack into the elevators in the White House’s underground parking garage. The doors slid shut, and Jack studied Scott out of the corner of his eye. “How’s Liz?”
“She’s good. She’s a sophomore in college.” Scott shook his head. “Where did the time go?”
Jack smiled but said nothing. He watched Scott bounce on the balls of his feet, ever so slightly, a nervous tic Scott didn’t know he had. He kept his left hand in a tight fist, and his shoulders were drawn, shoulder blades almost standing out through his suit jacket. There were furrows beneath his eyes. He hadn’t shaved, at least not that morning, and probably not the day before either. “Working long hours?”
Scott’s gaze flicked to him. The elevator dinged.
Scott pressed the button to keep the doors closed.
“You’re here about the ISS, aren’t you?” Scott asked. Fear slid behind his steely gaze, made his voice waver. “How did you find out?”
“I’ve been in Russia. I spoke to Sergey. Sasha is up there.”
Scott cursed.
“What happening, Scott? What’s going on?”
“Something fucking awful,” Scott whispered. His breath hitched. “Jack… It’s bad.”
The elevator buzzed, and Scott let the doors slide open. They were on the main floor of the West Wing, down the hall from the Oval Office. At ten p.m., only the national security staff and the diehards were in the West Wing, along with a few members of the press staff getting coffee and preparing for their overnight shifts. But even the few bodies Jack saw were on edge, a frantic energy to their work.
Levi waited for them outside the elevator, holding two cups of coffee.
For an instant, it seemed like just another moment in his administration, and he’d just come down from kissing Ethan, ready to tackle another challenge. Scott and Levi had been as much a part of that as anyone else had been. They were Ethan’s friends, but they’d become his friends, too. Striding out of the elevator, it seemed like no time had passed at all.
His heart lurched, a stab of anguish hitting him, when he’d thought he’d put it all away. His presidency, what he’d tried to do for the world. How everything, every moment of his time in office, had been tainted by Madigan. Some nights, he wondered how much of a marionette he’d been. For Madigan, for a political party that hated him, for forces he didn’t—and would never—understand.
Occasionally he wanted to weep, bury his face in his pillow and scream. Failure scraped his bones raw, made him shrivel, made his blood curdle inside him. He’d been a failure as a president, and he wanted to make that right, go back and change everything, have a second chance.
But he also wanted no part of that old world. His greatest act of freedom had been walking away. Cutting all ties. Escaping with the man he loved and starting a new life.
“Mr. President.” Levi held out one of the coffee cups for Jack and gave Scott a long look.
“Levi, it’s great to see you.”
Levi tried to be the bright, quick-with-a-smile agent he’d always been, but Jack saw through his exhaustion. Two years as detail lead had sharpened Levi. The way he moved, the way he checked in on his agents at their posts as they walked through the West Wing—it reminded Jack of Ethan so strongly, so fiercely, he had to close his eyes and take a breath.Ethan, your legacy lives on. You should be so proud of your men.
Shadows dogged Levi’s steps. His shoulders, like Scott’s, were tight, tense. He seemed poised to strike, to launch at some threat. He, Scott, and the rest of the West Wing were on high alert.
“We’ve put a cover entry in President Wall’s schedule for this meeting,” Levi said, leading him into the empty secretary’s office off the Oval Office. “You’re not here.”
“I understand.” A former president visiting the current president had layers of interpretations, none of them positive for anyone involved.
Levi reached for the door. He hesitated, his hand twisting the knob. “Jack…” His dark eyes found Jack’s. “This is her Madigan,” he said softly.
Jack nodded, and Levi pushed open the Oval Office door.
Inside, Elizabeth rose from one of the sofas. She was in workout clothes, and Jack couldn’t help but smile.A president must work out.
Elizabeth gave him a tight hug and offered him a seat on the sofa. Three folders were closed on the table before them, red-bandedTop Secretmaterial. “Jack,” Elizabeth said. “After all this time, you want to meet now?”
He sat beside her, gathering his thoughts. His speech, prepared over ten hours crossing the Atlantic, fled. He swallowed, laced his fingers together. “Elizabeth…” Her pinched gaze stared at him, her eyes revealing nothing, pools of guarded wariness. She wore a practiced ease, a politician’s small smile, but after years of working with her, Jack saw right through it. “I know about Lazarus.”
Elizabeth didn’t move. She didn’t breathe. She didn’t blink.
He spoke softly, walking her through everything, from Dr. Mendoza’s call to Siddiqi to Uchami, Tomsk, and Tura. “We were taken to his cabin, Elizabeth. I saw it. I saw where the Evenki were keeping him. But he’s gone. Someone has abducted him and killed Kilaqqi’s men.”
Finally, Elizabeth reacted. She cursed, rising and pacing in front of the fireplace and the portrait of George Washington. “He was supposed to be killed decades ago,” she snapped. “He should never have been allowed to live.”
