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Authors: Jeff Struecker
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brown hair sported a little more gray. The result of dealing with the unyielding problems of running a troubled and divided country, or was he just tired of hiding his sixty-one years with hair dye? It didn't matter. The man always looked dapper and scholarly.
Seated with him was a thinner, taller, older man who looked as if he had gone without sleep for the last week: puffy, red eyes; hunched shoulders; pallid skin. The vice president's appearance stunned Tess. She glanced at Mac and caught a glimpse of confusion.
"Tess, my dear." Huffington moved from the sofa and embraced her. His arms were firm and powerful, like anacondas circling her small frame. "Married life has made you even more beautiful."
"Thank you, Mr. President. You're looking well."
He shrugged. "I feel pretty good. I'm getting a little arthritis in my back, but nothing a couple of pain relievers can't handle."
"I'm sorry to hear that, sir."
He waved her off. "Nothing to worry about. When you reach sixty, you're required to make some kind of complaint about your health. I think it's hardwired into our genes."
"I had no idea. I'll keep an eye out for that."
The president smiled broadly, then turned to Colonel Mac. "Mac, how are you? You look good for an old man."
"I'm fine, Mr. President. Thank you for asking."
Huffington turned back to Tess. "This is the advantage of being president: I can insult powerful men and women and get away with it."
"For now," Mac deadpanned.
Huffington laughed but it lasted only a moment. "I'm sure you know Vice President Andrew Bacliff."
Bacliff moved close and extended his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Dr. Rand. I'm sorry I missed your wedding. I was out of country."
"No need to apologize, Mr. Vice President."
"That doesn't mean I don't know about you. Our country owes you a large measure of gratitude." His voice was smooth, that of a well-practiced speaker. If the rumors were correct, Tess was shaking hands with the next man to call the White House home.
"Let's be seated." Huffington motioned to the sofas. Instead of returning to where he was sitting a few moments before, he settled into a dark, thickly padded leather chair. Tess recalled her father calling the style a "cigar chair." She assumed he was taking the position of authority for the meeting, something he didn't have to do while alone with the VP. Helen Brown sat where the president was earlier.
"Mac, my latest intel says the boys are safely aboard the Michael Monsoor and they're underway at best possible speed."
"That's the latest report I have as well, Mr. President."
Huffington nodded. "There's something you don't know, Mac." He paused. "Actually, there are three things. I want to bring you in on the loop on two of those items. Depending how the mission unfolds, I will bring you in on the other. Right now, it's need-to-know only. Understood?"
"Yes, sir. Understood."
Huffington looked at his vice president, then nodded. Bacliff removed an envelope from the inside, front breast pocket and pushed it across the coffee table. Mac took it and started to open it.
"Before you read that, Mac, I want to make this official for you and Dr. Rand: Nothing we discuss here is to be repeated."
"I assumed that, Mr. President."
"I know you did, but I'm making it an order from your commander in chief."
"Yes, sir. Fully understood."
"Carry on."
Mac pulled a letter from the envelope. Tess could see a seal at the top of the letterhead but couldn't tell if it was from the office of the president or vice president. She turned her gaze to the coffee carafe, not from desire but to avoid reading what might not be meant for her eyes. Mac lowered the letter.
"Please share it with Dr. Rand." Huffington slipped forward in his chair, took the carafe, and poured coffee in four china cups on the table. Each cup bore the presidential emblem.
Without comment, Mac handed the letter to Tess. It bore today's date. She read:
To President Ted Huffington.
Dear Mr. President,
Certain
Seated with him was a thinner, taller, older man who looked as if he had gone without sleep for the last week: puffy, red eyes; hunched shoulders; pallid skin. The vice president's appearance stunned Tess. She glanced at Mac and caught a glimpse of confusion.
"Tess, my dear." Huffington moved from the sofa and embraced her. His arms were firm and powerful, like anacondas circling her small frame. "Married life has made you even more beautiful."
"Thank you, Mr. President. You're looking well."
He shrugged. "I feel pretty good. I'm getting a little arthritis in my back, but nothing a couple of pain relievers can't handle."
"I'm sorry to hear that, sir."
He waved her off. "Nothing to worry about. When you reach sixty, you're required to make some kind of complaint about your health. I think it's hardwired into our genes."
"I had no idea. I'll keep an eye out for that."
The president smiled broadly, then turned to Colonel Mac. "Mac, how are you? You look good for an old man."
"I'm fine, Mr. President. Thank you for asking."
Huffington turned back to Tess. "This is the advantage of being president: I can insult powerful men and women and get away with it."
"For now," Mac deadpanned.
Huffington laughed but it lasted only a moment. "I'm sure you know Vice President Andrew Bacliff."
Bacliff moved close and extended his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Dr. Rand. I'm sorry I missed your wedding. I was out of country."
"No need to apologize, Mr. Vice President."
"That doesn't mean I don't know about you. Our country owes you a large measure of gratitude." His voice was smooth, that of a well-practiced speaker. If the rumors were correct, Tess was shaking hands with the next man to call the White House home.
"Let's be seated." Huffington motioned to the sofas. Instead of returning to where he was sitting a few moments before, he settled into a dark, thickly padded leather chair. Tess recalled her father calling the style a "cigar chair." She assumed he was taking the position of authority for the meeting, something he didn't have to do while alone with the VP. Helen Brown sat where the president was earlier.
"Mac, my latest intel says the boys are safely aboard the Michael Monsoor and they're underway at best possible speed."
"That's the latest report I have as well, Mr. President."
Huffington nodded. "There's something you don't know, Mac." He paused. "Actually, there are three things. I want to bring you in on the loop on two of those items. Depending how the mission unfolds, I will bring you in on the other. Right now, it's need-to-know only. Understood?"
"Yes, sir. Understood."
Huffington looked at his vice president, then nodded. Bacliff removed an envelope from the inside, front breast pocket and pushed it across the coffee table. Mac took it and started to open it.
"Before you read that, Mac, I want to make this official for you and Dr. Rand: Nothing we discuss here is to be repeated."
"I assumed that, Mr. President."
"I know you did, but I'm making it an order from your commander in chief."
"Yes, sir. Fully understood."
"Carry on."
Mac pulled a letter from the envelope. Tess could see a seal at the top of the letterhead but couldn't tell if it was from the office of the president or vice president. She turned her gaze to the coffee carafe, not from desire but to avoid reading what might not be meant for her eyes. Mac lowered the letter.
"Please share it with Dr. Rand." Huffington slipped forward in his chair, took the carafe, and poured coffee in four china cups on the table. Each cup bore the presidential emblem.
Without comment, Mac handed the letter to Tess. It bore today's date. She read:
To President Ted Huffington.
Dear Mr. President,
Certain
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