EVEN BEFORE he started his day, Fritz wished that the day would end. Every period dragged, a rare occurrence for him. He wondered again if the portal might be responsible. Linda's unhappiness, residing at the surface of any mention of the portal, worried him. Ashley kept asking Fritz to remind the president to bring his sneakers. That didn't help. Neither had any idea what the president really wanted.
As he walked to his car, the buzz in his pocket kept Fritz from a quick getaway.
“Hi, Mr. President. What's up?”
“Hi, Fritz. I want to talk to you either before or after dinner. Alone.” Fritz climbed in his car, attentive but vulnerable in the parking lot. He started the car, phone to his ear, and found a quiet side street.
“I have to speak with you, too. Can we do it now, on the phone?”
“I'd like to have Linda hear me. It's important.”
“She's already upset enough with both of us. Let me be prepared at least. But before you tell me, you should know that I've promised her I wouldn't use the portal until after the baby comes.”
“Then I have another problem. Fritz, a hundred pounds of nuclear material has been stolen in Pakistan. We don't know who, but we do know where. Right now, the escape is amateurish. We have agents on the ground following them. But if they get to the northern mountains, it's gone. The Pakistani government is concerned but not willing to chase the perpetrators. So much for concerned. You can see my problem.”
“Yeah, and I can hear what you're asking. Are you going to bring that stuff into the school?” asked Fritz, his sigh leaden.
“No. Helicopters will ferry it away on-site. But we will need to get the assault team back here.”
“When?”
“After we eat.”
“Isn't there another way?”
“Not with precision or surprise.” At the other end, the president inhaled, holding his breath. Fritz knew the value of speed and surprise.
“I'll do it, of course, but please use your extraordinary persuasive powers to convince Linda it will all be ok.” His fist tapped the steering wheel. “I'll call home and tell her you want to speak to us. When can you get here?”
“Very quickly, once you're home.”
“I'll be there in about two minutes. I've been parked at the side of the road. I'd rather not get stopped for talking and driving. Though it would be fun to put the cop on the line with you. I'll call her now.”
He took a long moment to consider his situation and then called. “There's a Suburban outside,” she said in lieu of a hello.
“Hi.” Even less sure than when he made the call, he said, “Lin, the president just told me he wants to talk to us together. I assume that's him, waiting for me to get there. I'll be home in a minute.”
“Should I invite him in? This can't be good.”
Fritz let her comment pass and said, “He'll come when I pull in. I'm just down the street.” As he turned into his driveway, the Suburban's door opened. Fritz met the president as he climbed out. While Linda waited, they had a quick conversation.
“I didn't tell her about Pakistan.”
“I understand.” They climbed the steps, and Linda held the door.
“Linda, I know you may not believe this, but I really don't want to be here. I know you want me to go away. But a couple of hours ago, we received a report that nuclear material has been stolen in Pakistan. We are following it, but we can only get there fast enough with the portal.”
“Why am I not surprised?” She let out a heavy sigh and shook her head. “How much time do you have?”
“There's a trail. As long as they are moving it into the mountains, we can get them without collateral damage. We have a few hours. But if we lose them, they're gone.”
“So what do you want from me?”
“Your agreement.”
“After this, nothing until the baby is born. I'm an American and proud to help. But I'm going to be a mother very soon. Anything else, do it the government way, slow or not at all. I want Fritz here when I go into labor.”
The president's chuckle eased the tension. “The reason I like it here is you both treat me like a person. I don't get that very often.”
“You may be the president, but here, we think of you as a friend,” said Linda, softness in her voice. “And we treat our friends like real people. So what do you want?”
“What I originally wanted was to talk to you about the summit.” His eyes locked on Fritz. Gravity replaced the short-lived frolic in his voice. “I need to impress two people: the Speaker of the House now and the Russian president next to make this a unified effort. But this theft is far more immediate. We're not sure if there's been a coup in Pakistan. If so, then the remaining nukes could be exposed. We can't do anything about that yet.”
“And you want to go tonight?” said Linda.
“If we don't, terrorists could get ahold of the stuff. They could use it anywhere. Including the two key cities that bracket Riverboro. Washington and New York are attractive targets.
“For years, Linda, the world has been unsure America would respond to a crisis. And the opposition has made a litany of comments about my weakness as Commander in Chief. It's not true and never has been. But rhetoric and sound bites aren't policy. Policy, especially with foreign countries, is nuanced and requires careful diplomacy. That's why the portal is so important. It's our big stick. No one knows that we blew up Naria's nuclear program. Most people believe the Israelis did it, in spite of their denials. But this isn't about politics or my legacy.”
“Sure it is.” Matching his intensity, she said, “This is also about how history will see you. I don't doubt that you desperately want to save lives. You do care about the people who are suffering. With the Middle East, you're trying what nobody else has managed to do.” She looked at Fritz, whose frown showed his own worry. “Will you promise that the summit and Congressional leadership can wait? I understand that emergencies happen. But let's let this little boy be born before you begin politicking.”
The president raised his right hand. “I promise.”
Linda looked from Fritz to the president. She locked his eyes for a moment, and then, in a slow up and down motion, never losing eye contact, she nodded.
“If that's an okay, we have teams at the airport, waiting for a signal,” he said. She nodded again. “Then I need George to go along, and we'll go to the school after dinner. It'll be the middle of the night in Pakistan.”
“Mr. President,” said Fritz, “it's about time to head over to The Mill. After tonight, no more crises until after the baby's born.” They all smiled at the absurdity.
“Fritz, Linda,” a thankful voice said, “I can't tell you how much I don't want to do this. My hand has been forced. I'm lucky to have you two with me. I can't thank you enough. Now let's go make nice with the people who pulled my butt out of Geneva.”
Linda shook her head, amazed at his composure in light of the pressure. “Why would anyone want to be president?”
“Speaking for myself, I get to play a lot of basketball.”
THE PRESIDENT met the Kennedys, Chamberses and Jaffreys, shook hands with Steve Sullivan and Jim Shaw, had a quick talk with George, who was less ebullient when he returned, gave everyone at the table a stirring thank you, and finally sat down. Jane and Ashley raised eyebrows around the table by holding hands. After dinner, everyone except Fritz and Ashley's colleagues headed for the school through a scattering of snow flurries that had just begun.
When they arrived, they found a full complement of buses and Suburbans waiting for instructions. Colonel Mitchell gave the signal, and another performance began. The hall filled with the bang of boots and equipment exiting the buses, the swish of duffels on the stone floor inside, the low-level, high-adrenaline voices of soldiers preparing for action. Jane entered wearing combat dress. She had changed in the car.
Fritz noticed familiar faces. I wonder what these guys really look like? All the players were on the field. The medics, the leaders,
the conductor. Jane and Fritz went to his classroom and set up the maps. She activated her computer so they could watch it all by satellite in real-time.
“Ready?” Jane asked. Fritz nodded.
In the hallway, the soldiers lined both sides of the hall, waiting for Colonel Mitchell's command.
“Mr. Russell, nice to see you. Sorry it's the same reason. Major, we're ready.”
Tony, sitting on the floor, legs stretched out in front, nodded. Patting the doorknob, the pulse tickled Fritz's fingertips. The soldiers moved to the door. They would enter at four different spots near the thieves, each about two hundred yards out, form a perimeter, and then close the circle. Fritz pulled the door open and watched the first line move across the threshold. Fritz said, “Good luck” to Captain Dolan, the last one to go through. They repeated the scene three times.
The president and Jane went into Ashley's room to watch. Colonel Mitchell had four riflemen at the portal exit. Ashley brought Linda a chair and hurried back to his position. Just outside, Jim Shaw stood at the door, prepared to help. Fritz figured Steve Sullivan was patrolling the parking lot, keeping an eye out for any unwanted traffic.
In about twenty minutes, the president stepped into the hallway, a smile telling them what they wanted to know.
“It's over. They're heading back. We could see everything.”
“It worked?” asked Fritz.
The president nodded. “Thanks, Fritz.” He looked at Linda, now standing with the First Lady. “I owe you again.” Then he looked around the empty hallway. “You know, I kind of like it here.”
Jane walked out of the classroom, pointing at the door. “They're about to come out,” she said. George, prepared for his task, moved down the hall.
“All here, Colonel,” Fritz said. A click announced that the portal had closed.
When the soldiers were out, Colonel Mitchell told the president the helicopter had taken off.
“Anyone need the bathroom?” called George. The colonel waved to them to go ahead.
“Mr. President, that's the smoothest one yet,” Linda said.
Lois who had been curiously quiet, added, “I'll be happier when you don't need to do this. George and I see too much of this place as it is.” The president refrained from saying anything about shoes.
“That's it,” said Jane. Start to finish, the mission had taken less than an hour. In less than fifteen minutes more, the equipment had been loaded and the buses filled with men. A cleanup crew had started working in the school.
“A well-tuned machine, Mr. President. Now can we go home?” Linda asked.
“Only if you promise to let us know how you're doing. The next time I see you, you'll be back to being skinny.” He hugged her. Then he turned to Ashley and Jane, smiled, and wished them all a Happy Thanksgiving.
As he and the First Lady turned to leave, Ash said, “You know, it's still early, and the gym is right around the corner.” Everyone stared at him. The president said, “No shoes, Ash. Sorry.” But they all could tell he would have stayed if he'd had them.
When they reached home, shed of George and Lois, Jane and Ashley, Linda said, “Next stop, Thanksgiving.”
Fritz put his arms around her and pulled her close.
IN WASHINGTON, a voice on a telephone line sounded frustrated yet again. “They never showed up. Our men waited four hours past the delivery time. I have no idea what happened.”
“There's no chatter about a stolen nuke either. So it's already being covered up by both sides.
“Or they never stole it.”
“I'll find out. Get our guys out of there, but keep them ready. I'm not done yet.”
Chapter 21
NO NEWS REPORTS emerged on Wednesday about a stolen nuke. Fritz's focus returned to his classes and his meeting with prospective history-baseball players—the kids. Thirty-two teams, sixteen players, more than five-hundred students. In the auditorium. All at once. More than sixty teachers had stepped up, not including Ashley. Fritz pondered the enormity of the undertaking. Enormous. He told his ninth graders that they could play if they wanted, but he hoped they would help instead. The class chose Susan Leslie as the chairperson for the planning that remained. Never having had so much responsibility before, she rubbed her hands together nervously. Fritz reminded her that she would have a lot of support.
HE CRUISED into the second week of November far ahead of his schedule. Maybe for once I won't be teaching two months' worth of material during the last two weeks of the year. Ashley walked in, his grin a permanent fixture, and sat down directly in front of him. Since Ashley rarely sat while he was in school, and never for a chat at the start of the day, Fritz crossed his arms, leaned against his desk, and asked, “Okay, Mr. Happy, what's on your mind?”
Ashley dawdled before answering. “Jane and I talked about getting married last night.”
“Really? Congratulations. Couldn't play ball with the president, so you found an even more difficult game. So are congratulations appropriate?”
“Not yet, but maybe soon.”
“What do you mean, talked about?
“It was kind of strange, actually.”
“That figures.”
“Shut up. She said she had to go back to Washington, but she likes working at the airport and being with me all the time.” A dazed look on his face, he glanced out the window.
“And? If you think you can stop there, I'm going to call Linda right now. She'll get it out of you.”
“I already told her. Just after you left. I was trying to call you, but you had left your phone on the kitchen counter. I asked her opinion.”
“About what?”
“About our getting married. Don't be so dim.”
“Hang on. Jane said she liked it here and liked being with you. How did you get to the marriage part?”
“Oh. Right. Well, I told her I like it, too. I told her I wouldn't mind if she never left. She looked at me, kind of like, what are you really saying? Then she said we should have a long talk. So we did.”
“Ash, you're a pain in the ass, aren't you? Are you going to make me excavate for this nugget of gold? 'So we did,' ” he mimicked. “What does that mean?”
“We talked, and she analyzed. Like she had a pro and con list behind her eyelids. She has gorgeous eyes.”
“Ashley!” Fritz yelled.
“We've only known each other a couple of months, but if we still feel this way, say, in June, we ought to think about getting married. Fritz, have you ever noticed her teeth? They're exquisite, perfect.”
“Yeah, I've seen her smile, Ash, mostly at you. So you're engaged to reanalyze the possibility of an engagement? I don't know, is there a ring for that?”
“Linda was happy for me. What's wrong with you?”
“You doofus. I've been happy for you since you first set eyes on her, something everyone, including the president, noticed. Remember, Lois asked if you knew what subtle meant? Linda's been watching the two of you every time we're all together. But what are you going to do about DC and here?”
“Well, we talked about that too. We both know it's a problem, but that's one of the things we'll talk about in June. You know, Fritz, they have schools there, too.”
Fritz glanced at Ashley, and then stared past him at a blank spot on the far wall.
“What's wrong? Are you okay?”
Fritz struggled for a deep breath. “A couple of weeks ago, it hit me that the baby was going to be here soon. But you leaving? I'd get used to it, but…” He couldn't finish the sentence. And so soon.
“It's not like we'd never see each other again.”
“I know,” he said, but his stomach knotted.
The first bell brought them back to the day ahead. As Ashley left, the morning din rushed through the door. Shuffling feet, lockers creaking open and banging shut, shouts echoing down the hall. But Fritz stared out the window—Ashley might be gone. He knew he was being selfish, but he'd been stung, as certain as if Ashley had handed him a beeh
ive.
He picked up his folder for world history. He didn't feel like lecturing, and baseball just didn't fit. “Shake it off, Fritz,” he said to himself. His first class had reached the mid-1700s, and he had prepared questions for a discussion about the Seven Years' War. During the previous two weeks, the class had covered the realignment of European politics. Fritz had reminded them that wars between the ruling families of Europe and the changing alliances created by marriage provided a consistent thread connecting most of what they had been studying all term. He had asked them to consider the possibility that the Seven Years' War had actually been the first world war.
In the end, Fritz decided that classroom discussion would be less work than lecturing, so he spent the morning moderating rather than talking. He only answered questions about the material. Tournament information, he explained over and over, would be available at the organizational meeting.
Lunchtime was his only chance to do nothing more than think. How, he wondered, did the president do so many things, seem to be knowledgeable about them all, ward off fatigue, Congress, and the country's real threats, all while maintaining his roles as husband and father. Maybe he's an alien. I'll have to ask him. When lunch duty ended, he called the president.
“Hi, Fritz. This is a surprise.”
“Mr. President, I'm sorry to bother you. But I have a question, and I can't think of anyone better able to answer it.”
“If I can, sure. Shoot.”
“I feel like I've bitten off more than I can chew. But it's nothing compared to what you do. How do you focus on so many things at once and keep sane?”
The president chuckled. “First, I have a lot of help. With the little things, the details. And I've learned to compartmentalize. Fritz, I have reams of notes, legal pads for different topics. Lily Evans has the files so well organized that she's figured out how to match my schedule with my pads. Each pad is cross-referenced with keywords, and everything has been digitized. It's unbelievable. I first started doing it in law school. I bought a couple dozen legal pads and labeled each for whatever I had to take notes on. I found it worked for personal stuff, too. I write with a pen.” He paused. “Fritz, this is a confidential conversation, right?”
Quantum Touch (Book 3): Shadow Storm Page 11