Situation Room

“You’ve gotten tougher,” Pierre said. “Meaner.”

“Is it bad?” she said.

He shook his head. “No, not bad at all. You’ve matured a lot. You were still very much a girl when you were Vice President.”

Susan nodded at the truth of that. “I was pretty girly.”

“Sure,” he said. “Remember how Mademoiselle had you out jogging in bright orange yoga pants? Very sexy. But you were Vice President of the United States at the time. It seemed a little… informal, shall we say?”

“It was fun being Vice President. I really loved it.”

He nodded and laughed. “I know. I saw.”

“But then things changed.”

“Yes.”

“And we can’t go back,” she said.

He looked down at her. “Would you want to, if you could?”

She thought about it, but only for a second. “If all those people could still be alive, the ones who lost their lives at Mount Weather, I would give this job back to Thomas Hayes in a heartbeat. But failing that, no. I wouldn’t go back. I’ve got a couple more years to go before I need to decide about running for reelection. I feel like the people are starting to get behind me, and if I get another term, I think we’ll do some great, great things.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Another term?”

She laughed. “A conversation for another time.”

Just then, the bedside telephone rang. Susan reached for it, hoping it was something insignificant.

It never was.

It was her new chief-of-staff, Kat Lopez. Susan could tell her voice right away. And already, she didn’t like her tone.

“Susan?”

“Hi, Kat. You know it’s not even eight a.m. on Sunday, right? Even God rested one day a week. You’re allowed to do the same.”

Kat’s tone was serious. In general, Kat was nothing if not serious. She was a woman, she was Hispanic, and she had fought her way up the ladder from humble beginnings. She didn’t get where she was by smiling. Susan thought that was too bad. Kat was super competent. But she also had a very pretty face. It wouldn’t hurt her to smile once in a while.

“Susan, a large dam just broke in a remote area of far western North Carolina. Our analysts are saying it might be a terror attack.”

Susan felt that familiar stab of dread. It was one thing about this job that she would never get used to. It was one thing about this new life of hers that she wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy.

“Casualties?” she said.

She saw the look in Pierre’s eyes. This was the job. This was the nightmare. Just a minute ago, she had breezily considered a run for another term in office.

“Yes,” Kat said.

“How many?”

“No one knows yet. Possibly hundreds.”

Susan felt the air go out of her as if she were a tire that had just been slashed.

“Susan, a group is gathering right now in the Situation Room.”

Susan nodded. “I’ll be down in fifteen minutes.”

She hung up. Pierre was staring at her.

“Is it bad?” he said.

“When isn’t it bad?”

“Okay,” he said. “Do your thing. I’ll handle the girls.”

Susan was up and moving toward the shower almost before he finished speaking.

CHAPTER THREE

10:23 a.m.

Perpendicular Trail, Southwest Harbor, Acadia National Park, Maine

“How you holding up, Monster?”

“Fine, Dad.”

Luke Stone and his son, Gunner, moved slowly up the steep, rough-hewn steps of the trail. It was a humid morning, hot and getting hotter, and Luke was mindful that Gunner was only ten years old. They took the mountain slowly, and Luke made sure they stopped for frequent rests and water breaks.

They moved higher and higher through the enormous boulder field. The massive stones were intricately laid to create a winding, almost Byzantine stairway, as if some Norse thunder god had come down from the skies and carved them with his own giant hands. Luke knew the stones had been placed by out-of-work young men plucked from East Coast cities by the Civilian Conservation Corps some eighty years before, during the depths of the Great Depression.

A little higher, and they came upon some iron rungs bolted into the stone face. They climbed the ladder, then meandered up a carved boulder switchback. Soon, the trail leveled off and they walked through some dense forest, before one final climb to the summit outlook. They climbed out onto the rocks.

Just in front of them was a steep drop-off, probably fifty stories down a sheer cliff to the large lake where they had parked. Further out, the spot offered a commanding view of the Atlantic Ocean, perhaps five miles away.

“What do you think, Monster?”

Gunner was sweaty from the heat of the day. He sat on a rock, unslung his backpack, and pulled out a water bottle. His black Dawn of the Dead T-shirt was drenched in sweat. His blond hair was matted. He took a swig from his bottle and handed it up to Luke. He was a self-assured kid.

“It’s awesome, Dad. I really like it.”

“I want to give you something,” Luke said. “I decided to wait until we climbed the mountain. I’m not sure why. I just thought it would be a fun place to do it.”

Gunner looked just slightly alarmed. He liked getting gifts, but generally speaking, he preferred ones that he had asked for.

Luke took the device out of his pocket. It was just a small piece of black plastic, about the size of a key fob. It didn’t look like much. It could have been the clicker for an automatic garage.