Rising, Bowden forgot his seat belt. It pulled him back; embarrassed, he fumbled with its catch. When he stood, light-headed with alcohol and sleeplessness and days of meals gone uneaten, his self-belief was shriveled.
Like an automaton, he trudged off the plane, following the others to the baggage carousel.
* * *
Just before the dancing began in the East Room, the President found a quiet moment with Senator Chad Palmer. Even amidst the babel of celebration, the press of bodies anxious for a word with Kerry, the others left them alone.
'I saw you chatting with Frank Fasano,' Chad said dryly. 'Weddings bring out the best in us, don't they?'
Kerry smiled. 'Frank and I,' he said mildly, 'try to visit every five years or so. But I expect it will be more often now that he's become your peerless leader. How are things over there?'
'Different,' Chad said with a trace of the enduring bitterness he held toward Fasano's predecessor. 'Mac Gage was Southern-boy cagey— Machiavelli beneath the smile. But you always knew better than to trust him. This guy's like a Jesuit with a business plan: totally focused, without a single unguarded moment, and much harder to read than Gage. I have no doubt that he deeply loves his wife and children. But to Frank, you and I are less people than corporate competitors, roadblocks to the business plan secreted in the recesses of his mind.'
The remark was a reminder, if Kerry needed one, of the price Chad had paid for his own ambitions. 'Screw Fasano,' Kerry told him. 'What I wanted to say is how grateful I am you're here.'
Chad's smile of appreciation was tinged with sadness. 'When you dance with Allie,' he requested, 'tell her that. Today was hard for her.'
* * *
His mouth still sour with alcohol, Bowden waited for his luggage.
The carousel kept spinning. He stared at it as if hypnotized, feet rooted to the tile, fearful of being watched: as bags arrived, and others snatched them, the clump of people around him dwindled. Soon there were only three.
When at last his suitcase appeared, moving slowly toward him, Bowden was as alone as he was in life.
* * *
At eleven o'clock, Kerry and Lara Kilcannon began climbing the stairs to the residence.
With their guests gathered at the base, Lara glanced over her shoulder, and then tossed her bridal bouquet over her head.
Turning, she saw it still rising in the air, then, to her surprise, falling in a precipitous drop at the feet of her niece Marie.
As the celebrants laughed, Marie picked it up with the confused, delighted look of a child not quite sure what she has done, but certain that it must be notable. On the stairs, Lara covered her face, laughing; she had meant the bouquet for Mary, who regarded her niece with a fond bemusement which somehow conveyed 'Always a bridesmaid . . .' To Marie's mother, Lara called out, 'Put those flowers in trust, Joanie. In twenty years or so, Marie can take them out again.'
* * *
Bowden lay in the motel room, shades drawn, the gun resting on his stomach. In the dark, he checked the time on his iridescent wristwatch.
He did not expect to see this time tomorrow.
* * *
In the dark, Kerry held her. Her breasts rested lightly against his chest.
'I feel like we've gotten away with murder,' Kerry said.
Lara laughed. 'That I get to stay over, you mean?'
'For openers. Doesn't this feel different to you?'
'Yes, actually. But maybe not the way you mean.'
'How's that?'
As Lara kissed him, he could feel the smile on her lips. 'I'm not worrying about birth control.'
With that, the President and First Lady stopped talking altogether.
TWENTY-THREE
'I liked it when you danced with me,' Marie informed the President.
Together, Kerry and Lara laughed at an image from the evening before—Kerry in white tie and tails, scooping up a six-year-old in a frilly pink dress for a makeshift waltz. 'We'll send you lots of pictures,' the President promised.
He had come to see off Lara's family; the motorcade waited at the East Gate, their suitcases already in the trunk. Quickly, Kerry said goodbye to each in turn, Joan last. 'Come back soon,' he requested. 'And, please, call me if there's anything you need. I don't think there's much more I can screw up, and we want to see you two through the rest of this.'
Joan kissed him on the cheek, then gazed up at him, her face expressing gratitude, and more. 'I still say Lara's lucky,' she said, and then trundled Marie into the black limousine.
Saying goodbye to Mary, it struck Kerry that, once more, the youngest was the last in line. 'You don't have to wait for the others,' he told her. 'Part of being single is that you can come see us anytime.'
Smiling, Mary said she would, and then Lara squeezed her husband's hand. 'Meet you at Andrews,' she told him, and Kerry left for his national security briefing.
First, however, he placed a call to the head of the San Francisco security service recommended by Peter Lake. 'Have your people meet them at the airport,' he requested of Tom Burns. 'With all of this publicity, I don't want them bothered.'
'Mr. President,' Burns answered, 'it's as good as done.'
* * *
Amidst flashing lights and shrieking sirens, the First Lady and her family headed for Dulles Airport.
Eyes narrowing in a mock wince, Inez murmured, 'It gives me such a headache.' But Marie could hardly contain herself—squirming in her seat belt one way, then the other, she watched the Metro police lead and follow on motorcycles, intersection by intersection, from the E Street Tunnel onto Interstate 66.
'Why do they do that?' Marie asked her aunt. 'The sirens and everything.'
'To protect us,' Lara answered, and then, rather than explain the risks attendant to First Families, she resolved to focus on the intricacies of protection—the leapfrogging of motorcycles, the interplay of police and Secret Service, which kept Marie enthralled until the motorcade reached Dulles.
They proceeded to an empty building in General Aviation, home to private planes, which was easiest for the Secret Service to secure. The airport police were waiting—from here, Peter had explained, the police would escort Lara's family to their gate, putting them on their flight before the other passengers. They had four first-class tickets, a gift from Kerry and Lara.
