The never-ending cycle ofhislife.
Jamie synced the bioware in his wrist to the terminal and opened an uplink to his father’s private line. A holoscreen snapped open in front of him, the empty square dark with no image toproject.
A click sounded in his ears as the call was picked up, but the holoscreen remained blank. “Jamie.”
Richard’s voice sounded raw, as if he’d been speaking for hours on end with no break. He most likely had, Jamie conceded. As Senate Majority Leader and a presidential candidate caught in the middle of a terrorist attack, Richard couldn’t, in good conscience, remain silent. Jamie just wished his father had stepped out of the spotlight at the beginning, just this once, when they still had a chance to walk away clean. He knew it probably wouldn’t have stopped the Pavluhkins’ plans, but less people mayhavedied.
“Father,”Jamiesaid.
To his own ears, he sounded tired and worn down, but Jamie didn’t try to hide it. His family knew what he’d gone through yesterday and last night—they’d experienced most of itaswell.
“Let me find anuplink.”
Jamie waited a good five minutes before the holoscreen flickered and smoothed out, revealing his father’s face. He looked to be at the Callahans’ D.C. home; Jamie recognized the office. The part of his mind that would never step away from the battlefield was satisfied that his father was somewhere defensible, at least for the moment. Jamie had worked with the MDF on security for every home his family owned and stayed at. The D.C. mansion was as secure as his owncondo.
“Where are Mother and Leah?” Jamieasked.
“Asleep. Yesterday was…they neededsomerest.”
“How are they?” Jamie paused, studying his father’s tired face and the lines of stress pulling at his mouth that hadn’t been there yesterday. It looked as if he’d aged ten years overnight. “Howareyou?”
Richard didn’t immediately answer, his blue eyes darting over Jamie’s face. Jamie waited him out. He wasn’t going to make this easy on his father. After everything that happened, a good chunk of the blame rested squarely on Richard’s shoulders. The body count might have been less if the campaign rally hadn’t occurred. Then again, Cillian and Declan may have opted for a rush hour attack, and the results may have been the same. Regardless, the campaign rally had been a target they couldn’tignore.
So, yes, Jamie blamed his father for what happened. It was uncharitable, but he wasn’t feeling particularly forgiving at the moment. Richard’s hubris had endangered too many lives in favor of political greed. Someone not focused on polling and how well a story of near-assassination played out in the media probably would have gone to ground for a few days, kept their head down, and reassessed the situation. His father had done no such thing. Jamie didn’t think he’d ever forgive him for putting their family throughthismess.
Later, maybe, when he’d had a chance to process everything, his opinion mightchange.
Jamie knew himself well enough to know that wasn’t a likelypossibility.
“I’m all right,” Richard finally said. “I’ve been up all night fielding calls from the president and other members ofCongress.”
“Not themedia?”
Richard’s mouth pressed into a thin line, but Jamie didn’t see any anger in his father’s eyes. More a deep tiredness that would never become guilt. Sorrow, yes, because that played well before the cameras, but guilt was a one-way ticket out of politics. Guilt had no place in Richard’s life or his political plans. In the end, Jamie supposed he would be the one to carry it for hisfather.
“I’m preparing a statement. I anticipate releasing it sometime today, but the MDF director made it explicitly clear he needed to sign off on it first. The presidentagreed.”
Jamie knew his father didn’t much care for being told what to do, and there were very few people in the world who could give him orders that he would actually obey. The president of the United States was one of thosepeople.
“We’re starting debrief right now. It’ll be a while before the directorcontactsyou.”
Richard nodded. “Will you be coming to the houseafterward?”
The question not phrased as an order made Jamie pause. Part of him wanted to return to his family and check in with them, get eyes on them and see for himself they were doing all right. But he had two team members holed up in Medical, most likely benched from field work for the foreseeable future until they were medically and psychologically cleared by the doctors on base. Jamie couldn’t, in good conscience,walkaway.
In the end, it was an easychoice.
“No, I’m staying here,”Jamiesaid.
He thought his father would protest and argue the many reasons he should be at home with the rest of his family. But Richard surprised him by accepting Jamie’s decision withoutcomplaint.
“Thanksgiving is next week. Will you be joining us?” Richard askedinstead.
Campaigning around holidays always consisted of mornings spent in soup kitchens passing out food to the less fortunate, toy drives, and an appearance at the interfaith church in Manhattan many New York politicians favored for photo-ops. Jamie wasn’t religious, and neither was his family for the most part, but politics was as much about how a politician was perceived as it was about governing these days. America had a history of being an overtly religious country, and still was to a certain extent. When it suited those in powertobe.
Jamie pressed his thumb against his left ring finger, noting the absence of something he had never worn, but wanting it allthesame.
“I need to be available here for the next few weeks. I’ll try for Christmas,Father.”
