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“If the government wanted to stop the New Sons of Liberty,” she said, “they would have done it days ago.”

“Yeah.” He sipped his coffee. “There’s a bunker beneath Erik’s complex. You and the kids will be safe there.”

“No.”

“You will,” he said. “It’s under forty feet of rock. The doors are solid steel. Erik built it to—”

“I saw the bulletin.” It had flashed up on her d-pad only moments after the militia had passed the Vogler Ring. A brief message from the king of New Canaan, telling his subjects that the barbarians were at the gates. “Children fourteen and under, report to the bunker. The rest of you, get ready to fight.”

Nick paused, with that look on his face, the one that meant he was skipping conversational steps because he’d read her intent. It had always driven her crazy. He couldn’t help it, she understood that, and his intentions were good, she understood that too, but being married to someone who always knew where you were going—or thought they did—wasn’t easy. He said, “Natalie.”

“Nick.”

“Nat, don’t—”

“Nick, don’t.”

“Listen to me.” He set the mug down. “You need to get our children to that bunker, and you need to stay with them.”

“I’ll get them there.”

“This is bad. Those men out there, they aren’t soldiers. They’re a lynch mob. They’re wounded and angry, and they don’t see the people here as people. There is nothing they won’t do.”

“I know.”

“I will fight with everything I have. But I can’t be worrying about you and the kids while I do it.”

“I know.”

“So you’ll stay in the bunker?”

“No.”

“Natalie—”

“I love you,” she said. “I have forever. I loved you when my parents disapproved of us. I loved you when you started killing other abnorms for the DAR. I loved you when you went undercover to find John Smith and left me alone for six months, scared every moment that someone would firebomb our house. I loved you as you were dying in my arms. I will always love you.”

“I love you too. But—”

“But you are not the only one willing to die for our children. Or kill for them.” She saw the impact her words had, how profane the notion was to him. The dying, sure, but more the killing. She understood. It was profane to her too. Natalie locked eyes with him and said, “I’m going to take the kids to the bunker. And then like every other parent in this city, I’m going to get in a window, pick up a rifle, and fight.”

He opened his mouth. Nothing came out. Finally, he closed it.

“Now,” she said. “Let’s go tell our kids that they don’t get to watch the end of the movie.”

CHAPTER 31

“Mr. Secretary?”

It was still snowing, that fine stuff that looked more like fog whipping back and forth in the wind. Owen Leahy stared out the window of his Camp David office, a onetime guest room with a folding table in place of a bed, a tangle of cables running down from the back of it. Funny to see so many cords; in regular life, everything was wireless, meaning and message floating through the air. Here security had trumped that. That could be your epitaph: “Security trumped it.”

“Sir, the call you’ve been waiting for.”

Leahy spoke to the window. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, sir.”

In a career built on taking risks, the last hours had been the most brazen of them. After Luke Hammond had hung up on him, Leahy had called his chief of staff, still in DC, and told her what he wanted.

“Are you kidding?” She’d been nervous, but also exhilarated, he could tell. No surprise there. What he’d asked her to do was the stuff of spy movies, and who didn’t want to be pulling the strings?

“This is direct from the president,” Leahy had told her. “Screen all calls to any governmental office originating from New Canaan. No matter who it is, no matter what they say, they go to you. When it’s him, you send it to me.”

“Sir, that’s . . .” She trailed off. “Do you mind if I ask why?”

“Deniability,” he said. “Ramirez wants cover, and we’re it.”

“But, sir—”

“If the president asks me to take the fall, I’ll do it with my head high and my mouth shut. I need the same from you, Jessica. It’s time to serve our country.”

“Yes, sir.”

A huge risk. But what choice did he have? At this point, nothing would stop the New Sons from burning Tesla to the ground. It wasn’t what Leahy wanted, but politics never worked out the way anyone planned. The trick was to maneuver circumstances as close as possible to the goal, then quietly redefine your goal. “Quietly” being the operative word. If you can keep this quiet for a little while longer, no one ever need know you were involved.

Leahy turned from the view, said, “Thank you,” the dismissal clear in his tone. When the aide left, he walked to the mirror, adjusted his tie. He took a deep breath, then sat down and accepted the video call.