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Kathy opened the door. One of the plainclothes cops told her to get dressed while they waited, that they were going to drive to Chicago to the FBI offices there. Kathy was confused and scared.

“Chicago? That’s three hours, when will we get back?”

“I would pack for a few days, miss.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not following. Why a few days? Where are we going?”

“Miss Bernard, you’re under arrest at this time as an accessory in the hijacking of The Sunset.” And then the uniformed cop played her a recording of her “rights” on his watch. She was completely in shock.

“I’m innocent! I told you I had nothing to do with this!”

One of the men smiled and said, “Ma’am, I don’t make the decisions, I just carry out what I’m told. Please pack a small bag so we can get on the road. I’m sorry.”

Kathy went into the bedroom and packed her suitcase. She knew that whatever was going to happen now would most likely be more expensive than even her father’s illness. And she didn’t have the funds.

* * *

The aftermath of the hijacking was not going as well for Matthew Bernstein as he had hoped. In hindsight, people were upset that so many had to die, even though six of them were the perpetrators. This also became the straw that broke the camel’s back in regard to the violence that older Americans had been subjected to over the last several years. Congress, fearing the power of the olds, got tough, enacting new laws that would come down hard on attacks on the elderly. Stanley Markum wanted automatic life sentences for anyone attacking seniors. That didn’t quite fly, but the vote was close.

The President had to play both sides of the fence. He had to make older people feel safe, but he also needed to convince younger Americans that what Max Leonard said was wrong, that America loved them and that their lives were going to be better than those of their parents. It was tough, especially since it was a lie. But Bernstein did the best he could.

He spoke to colleges and gave them his “This country is yours, too” speech, and he spoke to seniors and gave them his “The rights of Americans are good until they die” speech. Neither speech elicited the reactions he was hoping for. It felt as if he was just treading water. A little bit for everyone and not enough for anybody. And then Betsy left.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Betsy Bernstein woke up one rainy morning in February 2031, and knew from the moment she opened her eyes that she was finished. The first person she called was John Van Dyke. They met for coffee and she told him that she was leaving the White House for good and would announce the official separation later that day. Van Dyke was not really surprised, nor did he even care that much. As Susanna Colbert became closer and closer to the President, Van Dyke had felt his job was threatened, culminating in the President’s decision to talk directly with Max Leonard. Van Dyke had been strongly against that, as were the generals, and he was convinced that Susanna was the one who made it happen.

Van Dyke knew the President’s feelings toward Susanna and was willing to accept them, until they got in his way. So as he listened to the First Lady telling him that this was it, he almost wanted to say, “I’m with you. I hate her, too.” But he didn’t. He told Betsy that he was sorry it had come to this, but he understood how frustrated she was. And he asked her why she told him first. She didn’t really have an answer. “Maybe just to hear how it sounded,” she said.

She waited until her husband had an hour free and walked into the Oval Office. She had not been there for weeks, so when Bernstein saw her standing at the door he knew the rest of his day would most likely be terrible. “Hi. What is it?”

“You know what it is, don’t you?”

“No. Tell me.”

“I’m leaving tonight. I’m not coming back. We’ll be officially separated and we’ll start divorce proceedings. I have no plans to make it a problem or drag it out and I’m assuming you feel the same way.”