MARINE ONE. WASHINGTON, D.C.
President Vaccaro knew leaving was the smart thing.
She just wasn’t sure if it was the right thing.
What the hell is the point if the leader of the free world takes off and runs to a deep hole while the rest of the country burns?
Looking over at Wright in the seat across from her, she said, “John, turn this helicopter around. I’m going to work in my White House. This president and this country will not run and hide. We will stand and fight. We all have our jobs to do, and mine is to be in D.C. leading the nation … not hiding in some plush cabin at thirty thousand feet, monitoring activities.”
Wright tried to suppress a smile.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
He didn’t reply, tapping the flight attendant button on the side of his seat three times. Almost immediately, Marine One settled back down on the lawn.
Vaccaro dropped his gaze at him. “How did you do that?”
Wright looked away for a moment then back at her. “I told the pilot we probably weren’t going anywhere, and to wait for my signal, just like I told the war cabinet to stay put.”
“Stay put where?”
“Where we left them fifteen minutes ago, Madam President, in the Situation Room.”
“So they’re not in Marine Two or the other choppers headed for Andrews?”
Wright slowly shook his head. “Like I said, I told them to stay put, just in case.”
“Just in case of what?”
Wright leaned forward and stared her in the face. “See, Madam President, you didn’t abandon us in country—even got shot down in the process. No way you were going to abandon your nation now.”
Vaccaro also smiled and mumbled out of earshot from everyone. “Jesus, am I that predictable, John?”
Wright leaned ever closer and whispered into her ear, “You are predictable, Laura, but only to me … and that’s not a bad thing.”