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“But … but … who’s in charge?”
“I’m working on that,” she says. “I’ve got to leave. Right now. Noa, come along.”
Hannah starts briskly walking and looks back.
Noa is moving slowly, pain shadowing her face, and Hannah thinks,God, what she did to grind on through back there, pretending to be Jean Swantish. And what her friend Gina managed to do, to successfully disguise her …
“Go ahead,” Noa says. “I’ll catch up.”
“The hell you will,” Hannah says.
She goes back, grabs an arm and puts it around her shoulder, and half runs, half drags her way out of the Oval Office area, past the offices and reception. Out in the parking lot the lead Suburban is still there, all four tires flattened, with two security officers standing outside, Grant and Lenny.
“Help me get Noa in,” she says. In a minute, the two of them are buckled in the rear seat, the two officers in front, Grant behind the wheel.
“Grant,” Hannah says, “this thing mobile?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, starting the engine.
“How long to Walter Reed?” she asks.
He backs out of the parking space.
“About thirty minutes, ma’am.”
“We don’t have thirty minutes,” she says. “You’ll have to do it in fifteen.”
“You’ve got it, ma’am,” he says. Sirens and lights are flipped on as they exit the White House grounds, heading north to Bethesda.
CHAPTER 143
PRESIDENT KEEGAN BARRETT—and despite all that happened a few minutes ago, he still considers himself the President—gets up and walks around theResolutedesk, thinking he might return to his office up in the family quarters, but according to Hannah Abrams, Carlton Pope isn’t in his White House anymore.
Damn.
Which means?
His chief of staff, Quinn Lawrence.
A pathetic man, no backbone, easy to manipulate, and a perfect choice to be his chief of staff.
He’s not sure if Carlton Pope had scheduled helicopter transportation to Mount Weather, as he requested, but he’s sure he can get Quinn to make the necessary arrangements.
Once at Mount Weather, when chaos sweeps across the nation in the hours ahead, who will the nation listen to? Him, the legitimately elected president of the United States, or some Cabinet member broadcasting via Zoom, playing pretend?
He opens the curved door to the Oval Office and a female Secret Service agent is there. He nods to her as she speaks into her wrist microphone, whispering, “Sierra on the move,” using his code name.
Passes the empty office of Carlton Pope, feels a pang of concern, recalling Hannah Abrams’s news of his arrest, and then he thinks,Well, we can fix it.Whip up a presidential pardon in the next couple of hours and Carlton will be where he needs to be, right at Barrett’s side, performing the hard duties that must be done in the hours and days ahead.
He stops.
Speaking of hard duties, where in hell is the Marine major carrying the nuclear football? He’s always within sight, and Barrett has never not seen him or his equal since Inauguration Day.
He resumes walking along the familiar hallways, nodding and smiling at the staffers he encounters, but something odd is going on. Most of them turn away or lower their heads, like they’re embarrassed or ashamed.
Or not wanting to look at him straight in his face.
At Quinn Lawrence’s office, he walks by Quinn’s surprised secretarial staff and opens the door, and then he’s surprised as well.
