President Rodriguez was termed out, however, and so he didn’t need to worry about optics as much as everyone else. He could play up the need for a meeting to address national security concerns and the media would eat up the excuse. His father, Jamie knew, would take any help he could get at this point in the race.
The First Lady and the president’s chief of staff, Charles Argent, met them just inside the entrance hall. Ashley Rodriguez was a petite woman close to his mother in age who adored bright colors. The dress she wore for tonight’s dinner was an eye-searing fuchsia structured designer piece with an asymmetrical hem. She smiled widely at them, stepping forward to clasp each of their hands in hers in greeting.
“So happy that you could make it, Richard,” Ashley said.
“Always, Ashley,” Richard replied warmly.
“Michael is still working, but he’s expecting you.” Her brown eyes flicked over to Jamie, catching his gaze. “Both of you. Charles will be more than happy to escort you two to the West Wing while I catch up with Charlotte. Dinner is in thirty minutes in the Family Dining Room.”
“I’ll be sure to remind the president that he shouldn’t be late.”
Ashley chuckled. “See that you do.”
They separated into two groups, and Jamie kept pace with his father as they walked through the Executive Residence to the colonnade that connected the central building with the West Wing. They passed the famous Rose Garden along the way, the now-biodome-enclosed area blooming behind clear plas-glass walls covered in nanoscreens that connected to the colonnade. The scent of flowers tickled Jamie’s nose, nearly making him sneeze.
Charles didn’t initiate any conversation on the short walk to the Oval Office. Jamie rather thought that was a telling slight, even if Richard didn’t seem bothered by the other man’s silence. Since they weren’t arriving at the West Wing’s main entrance from inside the building, but coming from the colonnade, they were escorted past the Marine guard posted outside the east door that accessed the Rose Garden. Once inside the Oval Office, Jamie’s gaze roved over the grandly decorated room as Charles announced their arrival.
“Mr. President, your guests have arrived,” Charles said.
“Excellent timing, Richard,” Michael said, nodding at Jamie’s father.
The president of the United States sat behind theResolutedesk, a massive, ancient wooden piece that hadn’t left the Oval Office in centuries. The decor of the room was warmer in color than the last president’s choice, with cream walls and a round rug placed over the hardwood floor, the great seal of the president of the United States woven into its make. Rich, red curtains hung over the three south-facing windows behind the president’s desk, providing a pop of color to the room.
Artwork borrowed from the White House’s private collection hung on the walls or were displayed on tables and cabinets. A conversation circle of couches and chairs were separated by a low wooden table topped with a brass sculpture depicting a weary Native American on his horse. Several aides stood within the room, all of whom weren’t shy about staring at the new arrivals.
Michael stood up, coming over to shake Richard’s hand, and then Jamie’s. “So good to see you again, Captain Callahan.”
Jamie squared his shoulders and snapped off a salute after Michael let go of his hand. “Mr. President.”
It didn’t matter that he wasn’t in uniform; this was his commander-in-chief. Jamie would always show respect for the office, whether or not he respected the man or woman carrying that mantle. While he respected Michael, Jamie had made an oath to his country and the underlying Constitution, not a single person. It was something his father still stubbornly refused to accept.
“Why don’t you take a seat? We’ll have ourselves a little chat before dinner.” Michael waved a hand in the general direction of the door that led into the West Wing proper. “Everyone clear the room.”
Charles seemed the most reluctant to leave, but the chief of staff followed everyone else out of the Oval Office, closing the door behind him. Michael pressed a button on the desk’s control panel, activating the room’s soundproofing.
Richard took a seat on one of the couches and Jamie followed his father’s lead. This wasn’t his first time meeting with the president, but it never failed to leave him feeling tight in the shoulders.
“I’ve seen the polls, Richard. You’ve slipped another spot,” Michael said.
Richard’s mouth ticked minutely upward at the corner before he nodded. “Yes. We anticipated that happening after the hearing. For once, I wish I had been wrong.”
“There’s still time to turn things around. The primaries aren’t over yet and I’ve heard rumors Governor Singh is thinking about dropping out.”
With Richard currently polling at fifth place in the Republican primaries, there wasn’t that much farther for him to drop. Rav Singh, governor of Michigan, was currently in sixth place and dead last in the race. If Singh bowed out of the running, then Richard would take the unwanted honor of being last. Even the current vice president was polling better than he was, and everyone agreed Timothy Souza wasn’t going to win no matter how much Michael stumped for him.
The pollsters and pundits had said the race was Richard’s to lose as far back as last summer. It turned out they were right.
Richard was losing.
“Nowhere to go but up, is that it?” was Richard’s cool reply.
Michael shot him a hooded look before shaking his head. “Trite, but true. The issues that damaged your campaign were out of your hands. Just because you can’t comment on them doesn’t mean they have to define you.”
“I can’t even come to my own defense, because every defense is classified.”
His father’s anger was palpable, but the president remained unmoved.
“I cannot and will not authorize the declassification of the Pavluhkin mission simply to save your campaign, Richard.”
