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“Of course not. I like you, John, and I respect you, and I respect what you have to say.”

“You two are a great couple. The country voted for both of you, even though his name was on the ballot. You’re half the team. I think the President needs another four years to accomplish his goals and I fear that without you he won’t get it. I can’t be more direct than that.”

She didn’t say anything. She poured herself a cup of coffee and drank half of it before she spoke. “I appreciate your loyalty to my husband and to the office. You have done your job well and my husband is lucky to have you.”

“By the way, Betsy, I swear to you he doesn’t know we’re talking. This was my idea.”

“I believe that, John. But this is bigger than you think. If this were a spat that could be fixed, don’t you think I would be the first one to do it? I never loved this job, but I did it for my husband. Obviously that no longer seems important to him.”

Van Dyke had no immediate reply. She had thought this through more carefully than he’d imagined.

She continued. “I think it would cause more harm to his mental state to stay in this marriage just to have another four years in the White House. As far as my mental state, I’m trying with every fiber in my body to make it through this term. Do you think I don’t know that he’s in Denver with Susanna? How should I feel about that?”

“You aren’t going to finish out this term?”

“I didn’t say that. But eighteen months, even living separately, is going to be difficult. I offer no guarantees.”

This was worse than Van Dyke expected. He could do nothing more than make a joke. “So fund-raising for his library is out of the question?”

Betsy laughed. But she was sad. And she had lied just now. Telling him she didn’t know if she could continue was not the truth. She did know. She was slowly reaching a decision that there was no way she could stay in this marriage for another year and a half. But telling John Van Dyke that with certainty would accomplish nothing. And then, there was still a very, very small part of her that thought her husband would come crawling back. Fire Susanna. Beg her forgiveness. Tell her that he literally could not live without her. But what bothered her most was that she wasn’t sure she even wanted that to happen.

* * *

Paul Prescott was sleeping when the small screen by his bed started buzzing. He could have chosen a more pleasant sound or whatever music he liked to alert him to an incoming message, but he was a deep sleeper and if he didn’t pick the most annoying sound the machine offered, he wouldn’t wake up.

“Yes?” he said, still groggy.

“I promised I would give you information before anyone else. I didn’t want you to wake up and have it waiting for you on the screen.” Paul sat up quickly. He was staring at Jack Willman.

“What? What happened?”

“Six men hijacked the retirement ship The Sunset.”

“What?!” Paul leaped out of bed, threw on a robe, and switched on the wall screen. “What the fuck is going on?”

“It isn’t on the news yet but six guys snuck onto the ship in the middle of the night. They’re holding it right now. There. It’s on. Turn to NewsOne.”

Paul switched his screen to one of the many twenty-four-hour news feeds. NewsOne was a combination of professional and amateur video capture. It had no commentary, just raw footage from wherever it originated. Paul saw shots of the large cruise ship, out at sea, stopped, with several smaller boats around it. “What are they doing?”

“I don’t know. It’s pretty confusing. The ship was going only a few miles north to port when it just stopped. There was an SOS and all we know is that there are hijackers aboard.”

“Do you know who they are?”

“We think it’s Max Leonard and his group.”

“Son of a bitch! You should have arrested him.”

“On what grounds? You still have to do something to get arrested.”

“On planning to hijack a ship! That’s a fucking crime, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t call you to get into legal arguments. I just wanted you to know what happened and that we’re on top of it.”

“How are you on top of it?