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By Root 923 0

that Edward Kealty had pulled the country back from an abyss Ryan had created. It was nonsense, of course, but there was no doubting their sincerity, a reminder Ryan took to heart: There was reality, and then there was perception, and rarely the two shall meet. It was a lesson Arnie van Damm had tried—mostly in vain—to pound into Ryan’s head during his presidency, and a lesson Ryan’s stubborn pride did not allow him to swallow easily. Some things were just true. Perception be damned. The fact that a majority of the American electorate seemed to have forgotten this fact by electing Kealty still boggled Ryan’s mind, but then again, he was no objective observer. Should have been Robby in the Oval Office. The trick was to not let this disappointment taint his speech. As much as he might like to, criticizing a sitting President—even a jackass—was bad form.

The door to the greenroom—in this case a small lounge adjoining McNeir Auditorium—opened, and Andrea Price-O’Day, his principal Secret Service agent, stepped past the agents at the door.

“Five minutes, sir.”

“How’s the crowd?” Ryan said.

“Full house. No torches and pitchforks.”

Ryan laughed at this. “Always a good sign. How’s my tie?”

He’d learned early on that Andrea was far handier with a Windsor knot than he was—almost as good as Cathy, but the good doctor had left early for the hospital that morning, so he’d tied the knot himself. A mistake.

Andrea cocked her head and appraised it. “Not bad, sir.” She made a slight adjustment and gave a curt nod of approval. “I feel my job security slipping away.”

“Not gonna happen, Andrea.” Price-O’Day had been with the Ryan family a long time, so long, in fact, that most of them rarely remembered she was armed and ready to kill and die for their safety.

There came a knock on the door, and one of the agents poked his head through the gap. “SHORTSTOP,” he announced, then opened the door to admit Jack Junior.

“Jack!” the elder Ryan said, walking over.

“Hey, Andrea,” Jack Junior said.

“Mr. Ryan.”

“Nice surprise,” said the former President.

“Yeah, well, my date canceled on me, so …”

Ryan laughed. “Man’s gotta have his priorities.”

“Hell, I didn’t mean it like that—”

“Forget it. Glad you came. You got a seat?”

Jack Junior nodded. “Front row.”

“Good. If I get into trouble you can throw me a softball.”

Jack left his father, walked down the hall, took the stairs down one level, then headed toward the auditorium. Ahead, the hall was mostly dark, every other fluorescent ceiling fixture turned off. Like most educational institutions, Georgetown was trying to be more “green.” As he passed a conference room he heard a metallic scraping sound from within, like a chair being dragged across a floor. He stepped back and peeked through the slit window. Inside, a janitor in blue coveralls was kneeling down beside an upturned floor buffer, poking at the polishing pad with a screwdriver. On impulse, Jack pushed open the door and poked his head inside. The janitor looked up.

“Hi,” Jack said.

“Hello.” The man appeared to be Hispanic and spoke with a heavy accent. “Change pad,” he said.

“Sorry to bother you,” Jack said, then shut the door behind him. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Andrea’s number. She picked up on the first ring. Jack said, “Hey, I was on my way to the auditorium… . There’s a janitor down here—”

“Conference room two-b?”

“Yeah.”

“We cleared him, and we’ll sweep again. We’re taking the basement route anyway.”

“Okay, just checking.”

“You looking for a second job?” Price-O’Day asked.

Jack chuckled. “How’s the pay?”

“Lot less than you make. And the hours are hell. See you later.”

Andrea disconnected. Jack headed toward the auditorium.

Showtime, sir,” she told former President Ryan, who stood up and shot his cuffs; the gesture was uniquely Jack Ryan Sr., but Price-O’Day saw a bit of the son in the father, and SHORTSTOP’s call about the janitor had told her something more: The son hadn’t fallen far from the intellectual tree, either. Was there such a thing as a spook gene? she wondered. If so, Jack Junior