A Heartbeat Away - Michael Palmer [9]
Yes, of course, you go, Ellis thought. Go be the good lapdog that you are.
Ellis remained seated in her designated chair, looking, she sensed, regal and composed. She had been a fourteen-point underdog when she won the nomination to oppose Allaire. A throwaway, many political pundits had called her, persisting with that notion even when she had shaved a good chunk of that lead away by the time of the election. One more month and she would have caught the bastard, she had thought over and over again.
One more month.
She concentrated on maintaining an appearance of composure. People were looking. Allaire had been an idiot firing that gun the way he did. She needed to appear above it. Many out there had to be aware of the slight the man had just delivered to her. She needed the power brokers and the doubters to see a woman impervious to the chaos engulfing them—a true leader, fearless in the face of impending disaster.
Ellis glanced sideways at Allaire. The sight of him churned her stomach. Perhaps now the American people would see past the smoke and mirrors of their so-called leader. Perhaps they would see that for all his cries for cooperation and unity between the legislative and executive branches, when push came to shove, the speaker of the house was being left on the outside looking in.
Well, fine, she thought. While he was slinking away to meet with his yes-men, she was where it really counted—with the people. Sooner or later that snub might prove to be Allaire’s undoing. Those waiting for him to handle whatever was going on had to have seen how his color had gone pale; how sweat dripped a rivulet of makeup down his Botox-stiffened face; how his hands shook. The man oozed weakness and uncertainty.
The moment the election results were in, the moment she had conceded, Ursula Ellis had begun thinking about the election four years from then. She had checklists in her study of her possible competition, within her party and Allaire’s. None of them was all that formidable. Privately, her advisors questioned whether this might be the time for her to step back from politics and resign her seat in Congress to gather up and re-form the scattered pieces of her campaign team. But she had the foresight to anticipate a virtual dead heat for control of the House, and had chosen to run for reelection to her seat while campaigning against Allaire. Now, here she was, elected in her district by a landslide, and back as speaker.
She had been guided in her decision to keep her seat by a persistent inner voice telling her the time was not right to pull back. That gentle voice, which had led her so unerringly in the past, made it clear that God had plans for her—plans to lead the country. She simply had to stay in the limelight.
Allaire surveyed the chosen ones. He looked as if he were about to faint.
This is it, Ellis thought. Whatever was happening, the president was not equipped to handle it. Sooner or later, he was going to slip—to make a profound error in judgment. And when he did, she would be ready to step forward. In truth, she felt certain her rival was misreading the situation altogether.
First, though, before she could stand in opposition to the actions he intended to take, she needed information.
Allaire was the consummate conniver. What was he up to this time? Was this some sort of demonstration—a test, like the civil defense interruptions on the radio?
Did he really believe that seven hundred of the most powerful and influential Americans were being affected by some virus?
If there was any truth at all to what he was claiming, then people needed medical evaluation and attention—food and water, not threats and isolation. But odds favored that the whole thing was some sort of scam. Allaire’s leadership skills were fraying. Hers were sharper than ever. If there really was a virus, she had the intelligence and charisma to bring the people together.
It was God’s will that she was in this spot