The First Councel

“So I guess that means she doesn’t need much protection.” Before I can respond, he adds, “Of course, maybe I have it backwards. These media things always make it look like more than it is, don’t you think?” With a knowing nod, he turns back to the anteroom, flips off the light switch, and leaves the room. The door slams behind him.

Alone in the dark, I replay Adenauer’s last words. Even if we’re both still missing a few pieces, he’s got enough to make a picture. That’s why he’s made his decision: No matter what I do, for me, it’s over. The only question now is who I’m going to drag down with me.

***

I wait a full minute after he leaves before I go for the door myself. Regardless of what the schedule says, when it comes to trips, almost nothing moves on time. If they’re running late, I can still catch her. Following my usual path, I tear toward the West Wing. But as soon as I hit the night air, I know I’m cutting it close. There’s no Marine guard standing under the light outside the West Lobby. The President’s not in the Oval. Rushing full speed through the West Colonnade, I fly into the Ground Floor Corridor. As I run, I hear clapping and cheering echoing through the hallway. In the distance, there’s the chug of a steam train. First slow, then fast. Faster. As it picks up speed, it’s pulsing. Whirring. Humming. The helicopter.

Halfway down the hallway, I make a sharp right into the Dip Room and crash head-on with the last person I expect to see at a departure.

“Where’re you heading?” Simon asks, sounding unsurprised.

My jaw tightens. I can’t help but picture him and Nora in the backseat. Still, I fight it down. “To watch the departure.”

“Since when are you such a tourist?”

I don’t answer. I need to hear it from her. Turning away, I step around him.

He seizes me by the arm. It’s a tight grip. “You’re too late, Michael. You can’t stop it.”

I pull away. “We’ll see.”

Before he can respond, I push forward, shoving open the doors of the South Portico. On the driveway, a small crowd of twenty-five is still cheering. Remnants of the post-Dateline celebration. On the South Lawn, Marine One is about to take off. I have to squint against the swirling winds, but I still see the fat army-green copter lift off the ground. As my tie and ID are whipped over my shoulder, the force of the wind from the spinning blades crashes against my chest like a wave. Behind bulletproof glass, and in his armor-lined seat, the leader of the free world waves goodbye to us. Two seats back, Nora’s caught up in a conversation with her brother. I lift my chin and watch their ascent. Simon’s right. There’s no way to stop it. It’s out of my control. In a heartbeat, the helicopter’s lights go off, and the First Family disappears in the black sky. With nothing left to cheer for, the crowd starts to disperse. And I’m left standing there. Alone. Back to a world of one.

***

“This is stupid,” I say as the waitress delivers a pitcher of beer to our table.

“Don’t talk to me about stupid,” Trey says, pouring himself a glass. “I was there today-I saw it myself. The best thing now is to plan your way out.”

As he says the words, my eyes are locked on the waitress who’s clearing the table next to us. Like the crane in the old carnival game, she lowers her arm and lifts all the important stuff: glassware, menus, a dish of peanuts. Everything else is trash. With a sweep of her arm, empty bottles and used napkins are brushed into the busboy’s plastic bin. With one quick move, it’s gone. That’s what she did-after the fun, jettisoned the trash. Still, I refuse to believe it. “Maybe Vaughn had it wrong. Maybe when Nora gets back-”

“Wait a minute, you’re gonna give her a chance to explain? After what she did tonight… Are you out of your head?”

“It’s not like I have a choice.”

“There’re plenty of choices. Whole shopping-carts-ful of them: Hate her, despise her, curse her, scorn her, pretend you’re nature and abhor her like a vacuum-”

“Enough!” I interrupt, my eyes still locked on the waitress. “I know what it looks like… I just… We don’t have all the facts.”

“What else do you need, Michael? She’s sleeping with Simon!”

My chest constricts. Just the thought of it…

“I’m serious,” he whispers, looking suspiciously at the tables around us. “That’s why Caroline got killed. She found out the two of them were doing the horizontal Electric Slide, and when she started blackmailing them, they decided to push back. The only problem was, they needed someone to blame.”

“Me,” I mutter. It certainly makes sense.

“Think about the way it played out. It wasn’t just a coincidence that you wound up in the bar that night; it was a setup. She took you there on purpose. The whole thing-losing the Service, pretending to be lost, even taking the money-that was all part of their plan.”

“No,” I whisper, pushing myself away from the table. “Not like that.”

“What’re you-”

“C’mon, Trey, there’s no way they knew the D.C. police were going to pull us over for speeding.”