Christmas Eve, 11:59 a.m. (Eastern Time); Thousands of feet above the state of Kentucky
The blue and white Boeing VC-25 cruised along at five hundred and seventy-five miles per hour; its destination was Washington, D.C. Designated as Air Force One, the modified jet was a flying White House for the President of the United States. The cockpit was located on the upper deck of the nose of the aircraft. Directly behind the cockpit were the President’s office and the communications’ room. Below the cockpit were the Presidential suite, medical facilities, Presidential security and a conference room. The middle of the jet, toward the rear, contained a dining room (capable of supplying two thousand meals), staff/secretarial quarters, offices and press quarters. The exterior of Air Force One had an array of countermeasures, including an ECM electric deference system that jammed enemy radar and confused missiles, and mirror-ball deference’s, located in the wings, that dazzled infrared guidance systems. Also in the wings were chaff and flares designed to confuse enemy missiles. Finally, the armor-plated hull was capable of withstanding a nuclear blast on the ground.
Receiving Hardy’s 1 a.m. call, the President and the First Lady immediately left the White House for Los Angeles. After the doctors had given Abigail a clean bill of health, the President took his family home to Washington, D.C. with a few extra passengers; Hardy, Special Agent Cruz and Charity. After they had taken turns using his shower, the President offered his Presidential suite to the women, who were exhausted. They accepted. Hardy had found a nice couch in the conference room, stretched out and quickly fell asleep. The President saw him, closed the door and informed everyone that the room was off-limits.
Having slept for three hours during the flight, Hardy, Cruz and Charity were feeling more refreshed. Additional sleep would be necessary, but at least they were more alert than when they had left Los Angeles. Cruz and Charity waited in the President’s office; he had called a twelve o’clock meeting. Hardy made his way from the conference room and met Director Jameson at the door to the President’s office. The President wanted Jameson to accompany him on the flight to Los Angeles to keep him up to date on any potential fallout from the mission to rescue his daughter.
Seeing that the President was not in the room yet, Hardy thought it was a good opportunity to talk to the Director. “Sir, may I have a word with you?” The two men stepped aside from the door. “Sir, I want to apologize for what I said earlier…about you not reaching out to your daughter. Caught up in the heat of the moment, I went way over the line. Still, that’s no excuse for my behavior and I’m sorry.”
Jameson stared at the floor.
Hardy waited for a reply, but none came. Seconds went by and the tension in the small space increased. Hardy wondered if Jameson had even heard him. He was half-expecting a stern reprimand from his boss. More time passed. The reprimand would be easier to take than this silence. Hardy turned to walk into the office, thinking that Jameson was not going to say anything; however, the man spoke.
“In the last six months, you’ve said and done a lot of things that you need to apologize for.” Jameson locked eyes with Hardy. “Speaking the truth is not one of them.” He turned his head away. “The truth is you’re right. I could have done more to locate my daughter. I was mad as hell when you said those words to me.” Jameson paused. “After careful thinking, however, I realized I was more upset with myself than you. Hearing you made me take a hard look at what I did…or didn’t do.”
Hardy was taken aback. Jameson was not a man who laid bare his emotions…or his personal thoughts. He was all business…all the time.
“After Dahlia was fired from the FBI, I tried to get in touch with her. She never returned my calls. As the years went by, I guess it became easier and easier not to make the calls.” Twisting his head back toward Hardy, Jameson regarded him. “To tell you the truth, I have no idea what I would even say to her if she were standing right in front of me.” He grunted. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she wanted nothing to do with me.”
While listening to Jameson, Hardy had found a business card in his pocket. Clicking the top of a ballpoint pen, he scribbled something on the card and gave it to Jameson, who took the card and looked at it. “You’ll never know, sir, unless to reach out to her one more time.” Hardy turned to go into the office, but stopped. Facing Jameson, he added, “Sir, I’m a pretty good judge of character. While I don’t know what she was like seven years ago, I can tell you…from what I’ve witnessed…You two are more alike than you might think.” Hardy strolled into the office, leaving Jameson alone with his thoughts.