The room exploded with shouted questions as Callan stepped away from the lectern. Quinn gave her a smile and a thumbs-up, and the press secretary took the stand to handle the questions.
Nicholas and Mike were waiting outside the pressroom, watching Callan on the monitors in the small hallway. They heard a reporter yell after Callan, “Madam Vice President, what happened to the person who tried to kill you?”
They watched her turn, raise her hand, and instantly there was silence. She said in a loud, clear voice, “He was shot and killed.” And then she came out of the room and was walking quickly toward them. “Walk with me,” she said, not pausing, and they followed her to the Cabinet Room. The long table was full. Discreet brass placards with the names of the president’s cabinet identified those Mike didn’t recognize.
The room erupted into applause as they entered. Every cabinet member got to their feet.
Callan brought Mike and Nicholas to the head of the table, a hand on each back.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I want to introduce you to the people who saved the life of President Bradley—not once, but twice—and saved me, as well. Special Agents Nicholas Drummond and Michaela Caine are shining examples of the heroes this country is honored to employ in our law enforcement services. We owe them both a debt of gratitude, and when the president is back on his feet, I will be recommending them for the Medal of Honor for their intelligence and their incredible bravery.”
More applause, shouts, and whistles, decorum completely lost after Callan’s words.
Callan raised her hand. “Let me add that Agent Caine was the one who shot the assassin, Zahir Damari, while he was trying to escape.”
More applause.
Callan again raised a hand. “I want to assure all of you that I wasn’t spinning a tale for the media. The president is doing better. The poison Damari used in the champagne was midazolam—you might know it as Versed, a drug they give you before surgery. It was a fatal dose. Without Agent Drummond moving so fast, without the medic really knowing his stuff well enough, the president would be dead. Now he will live.”
Mike felt goose bumps rise on her arms. She was trying to memorize every word the vice president said, everyone’s reaction—and there was the secretary of state, clapping wildly, for her and Nicholas—so much, too much, and she couldn’t wait to tell her parents. She knew she would hold this close to her for as long as she lived. There was no doubt in her mind that patriotism was still very much alive and well in the halls of the White House.
She felt Nicholas’s hand close around hers. Strong, steady, that was Nicholas, honorable to his core, not to mention a wild man. A moment in time, she thought, she’d just lived through a moment in history that would last her forever.
Nicholas tightened his hold on Mike’s hand. When Callan turned and winked at him, he very nearly laughed. He was very grateful they weren’t expected to say anything. His mind was perfectly blank.
Callan said, “I would like to tell you that I received word from Mossad that they’d captured both Colonel Vahid Rahbar and his Hezbollah cohort, Hasan Hadawi, known, I’m told, as the Hammer, along with the scientist who’d reproduced Spenser’s coin bomb. They were headed for Israel’s border.
“Evidently, both the colonel and the Hammer wanted to witness what the bombs could do with their own eyes.
“As to any bombs found with them, I formally requested that the Israeli government return them to us, which they will do. I fully expect the count to be on the short side.” And she thought of Ari’s jubilant shouts, and smiled.
There were huge sighs of relief around the room, more applause.
“So all’s right with the world.”
“Until tomorrow,” a general remarked, and laughter and groans followed them from the room. They followed the vice president into the Oval Office, also small, so much less than Mike had always imagined it.