Chapter Four

“My dream is of a place and a time where America will once again be seen as the last best hope of earth.” Abraham Lincoln

Stella left the ballroom behind, the big double doors closing on the murmur of voices, the chink of glasses. Her feet hurt, and her jaw ached from smiling. Hot tears pricked at the back of her eyes.

She blinked.

She was just off-balance, that was all.

Speaking to Gideon after all these years had brought it home to her. He’d changed so much. When he’d left ten years ago, he’d been such an easygoing boy. Back then, despite his twenty-four years, he’d maintained his boyish charm. He’d been confident, happy, secure in his place in the world. Maybe she hadn’t loved him, but she’d loved the way he made her feel. Safe. She hadn’t felt safe in a long time.

Now he was a hard man, honed by years of fighting. Though he didn’t seem bitter; more resigned to what had happened all those years ago.

But then, he still didn’t know the whole truth. And Stella certainly wasn’t going to tell him.

Stella’s office was on the first floor. She didn’t take the elevator, but the big curved staircase. A plain-clothes Secret Service officer nodded to her and opened the door without checking her papers. He was a regular and knew her well.

She bent down for the retinal scan, and her door slid open. She had a nice office, big and square, with dark-red walls, polished wooden floors, and the requisite picture of Harry Junior on the wall. A window overlooked the front of the building. She kicked off her shoes and crossed to stare out over the city. Growing up, this was all she had ever wanted—to be part of something big. To help lead her country into peace and prosperity. Food, education, decent medical treatment available for all. On the surface, at least here in D.C., it appeared as though they were there.

Something caught her eye out on the street beyond the wall and the exclusion zone. A knot of people gathered to the west of the entrance. She stared hard and finally made out a checkpoint. She’d never seen one this close to the White House before. The streets around here were busy, and it was causing a buildup of people. She turned away, uncomfortable and not sure why, except she had a sense that everything was changing.

After she’d left Gideon, she’d searched out his boss, Boyd Winters. Boyd was a good friend of her father’s and had been head of the Secret Service for over a decade. When Martial Law had been first instituted, it had been under control of the army. That had changed when Harry Junior became president. Now the country was run by the Secret Service, which made Boyd Winters one of the most powerful men in America.

Today, she’d asked him if there was a reason for the heightened security. He’d claimed there was nothing specific, but then they weren’t called the “Secret” Service for nothing. No doubt they would tell her if she needed to know.

She switched on her computer and sat down behind her desk. It made her think of Kate. She hoped her baby sister wasn’t getting into too much trouble in her basement office. It was too much to ask that she just stick to her work; she would be bored out of her brain. Hopefully she’d be developing some safe little computer game based on one of those really old science fiction movies she devoured at a voracious rate.

She opened her messages and read through them, flagging any that needed an answer and transferring others to archives.

Then a new message flashed up on the screen, and her fingers faltered.

She stared at it for a moment.

New York. The Plaza hotel. One week from today.

There was no signature, but she knew who had sent it.

Her heart rate sped up and her mouth went dry. For a minute, she just stared. Then she reached out with a trembling finger and clicked archive. If there was a way to delete any message totally, she would have done it, but short of blowing up her computer and the White House servers, she didn’t know how. Kate probably would.

An ache pressed on her skull, and she rubbed the back of her neck, then pressed a finger between her eyes.

Christ, what the hell do I do?

She’d never really expected this moment to come.