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King let his boss vent until there was nothing left and then turned the tables. Methodically, he made his case, pointing out that they had saved the lives of twenty-five people and had sacrificed what? Some money that wasn’t even theirs and some sanctions that weren’t even working. King stressed to Baxter that there was no way they could have played it any better. And then in an attempt to help bolster his boss’s ego, King proclaimed that history would judge his three days as president as some of the most difficult ever served by the nation’s chief executive. That history would remember him as someone who put the lives of Americans above money and a failed foreign policy.

“Remember, it ain’t over till it’s over.” King was building strength in his position. With each passing minute, he could see that he was getting to Baxter. King paced back and forth in front of the desk, and then suddenly stopped. “This is perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

“What is?”

“Hayes may have just done you the biggest favor of his career.” King clapped his hands together. “You’re off the hook, and the timing couldn’t be better. So far you’ve only had to deal with the little demands. Tomorrow, Aziz is going to ask for something big, and you are not going to have to be the one to say yes or no.” King was grinning ear to ear. “They are going to have to storm the White House, and Hayes is going to have to give the order.”

The vice president began to see the bright side. “There just might be a way out of this.”

The door to the study suddenly burst open, and one of the vice president’s staffers rushed in yelling, “Turn on the TV! The White House is on fire!”

Baxter sprang from his chair and grabbed the remote control from his desk. The TV came on almost instantly. Within seconds, images of fire engines racing through the White House’s gates appeared. In the background flames could be seen shooting out of windows. Baxter turned up the volume. The anchor was saying that people on the scene were telling him that as of yet no survivors had been seen coming out of the building.

As soon as the anchor said the words “no survivors,” Dallas King ushered the aide back out of the room and closed the door. The two of them stood for several minutes, watching the live coverage. There were flames everywhere. Firemen were manning hoses from the ground and from the top of hook-and-ladder trucks.

King turned to his boss, unable to hide the smile on his face. “No one is going to make it out of there alive.”

All Baxter could do was shake his head.

King stared at the TV for a while longer and then said, “We need to let the media know that you are not responsible for this disaster.” King pointed to the screen. “Hayes is responsible for this mess, and we have to make sure everyone knows that.” King felt as if he were floating on air. He was going to get away with it.

Baxter looked at his chief of staff and said, “Dallas, this is a tragedy.”

“Life is a tragedy, Sherman. Thirty thousand people a year die in car accidents, another hundred thousand from cigarettes.” King pointed to his boss. “Now, that’s a real tragedy. This is not good. Don’t get me wrong. Some people might consider it a tragedy, but it’s my job to make sure they don’t think you caused it.” King picked up the phone on his boss’s desk and punched in a phone number. When he got the person’s voice mail, he pressed zero and got the operator on the line. “I need to speak to Sheila Dunn immediately! Tell her Dallas King, the vice president’s chief of staff, is on the line.”

King was put on hold. Standing next to his boss, he watched the White House burn on the TV. In the back of his mind, he was chanting, Burn, baby, burn.

54

PRESIDENT HAYES STOOD in front of the White House, bathed in the early morning sunlight. Reporters shouted questions from beyond the fence line, and he ignored them. The important thing was that the nation see he was alive and well. He would make a formal speech in the evening and explain the tragic events of the last four days.

Special Agent Jack Warch stood at his side along with a half dozen other Secret Service agents, all of them wearing sunglasses. President Hayes held his hand over his eyes and gazed up at the proud, old building, amazed she was still standing. FBI agents were sifting through the carnage collecting evidence. Virtually all of the windows were blown out, and there were holes punched in the stone exterior where the bombs had exploded. Fortunately the fire had not burned uncontrolled. Between the heavy downpour and the firefighters, the blaze had been kept in check and was prevented from engulfing the structur

e. Priceless national treasures had been damaged beyond repair and lost forever, but the important thing was that the hostages were alive.

Jack Warch reached out and tapped the president on the arm. President Hayes looked down at his watch and nodded. The troop then moved out across the lawn for the northwest gate.

The president looked to Warch and said, “I bet your wife and kids were happy to see you this morning.”

Warch smiled. “Yep. Lots of hugs and kisses.”

Hayes grinned and slapped Warch on the back as they crossed Pennsylvania Avenue. Several large limousines were parked in the street. One of them, Hayes recognized, belonged to the vice president. The entourage walked up the steps of Blair House, where a U.S. marine opened the door for the president and saluted. Hayes returned the salute and entered the foyer of his new home. Several reporters from the White House press pool were inside with their notepads ready.

The president paused to take a look around and pronounced, “If it was good enough for Harry Truman, it’s good enough for me.” The reporters laughed and wrote down the quote.

The president’s chief of staff appeared from the parlor and said, “Everybody’s here, Mr. President.”

Hayes tugged on his white shirtsleeves and entered the room with Warch and Jones. All of the attendees stood, some more enthusiastically than others. The president had called the meeting several hours earlier and had put together the list carefully. Stansfield, Kennedy, Flood, and Campbell were all seated on of one the room’s two large couches. Sitting across from them was Vice President Baxter and Dallas King. Despite the extra room on the couch, Anna Rielly and Milt Adams had chosen to stand.

The president walked to the front of the room and looked at the only two people he didn’t know. “I’m looking forward to meeting both of you, but we have some business to take care of first.” Hayes looked around the room for a second and then to Director Stansfield. “We’re missing someone.”

“He’ll be along shortly, Mr. President.”

Hayes nodded and brought his hands together in a tight grip. “All right, let’s get down to business. First things first.” Hayes’s gaze fell on Dallas King.“We are going to set the record straight, and we’re going to make things right. Dallas, I’ve been told you made quite an ass out of yourself over the last several days.” Hayes paused. “Anything you would like to say in your defense?”

King shifted uncomfortably on the couch and was rapidly trying to think of a defense when the parlor doors opened and in stepped Mitch Rapp. Rapp walked across the room to where Rielly and Adams were standing.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Mr. President.”

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