Savich saw Natalie pull her shoulders back, coach her expression into one of serene control. Her Armani suit was stark black, conservative, so stylish it had turned heads of passersby when she’d stepped out of her limo at the northwest gate to meet him. She wore power well, like a comfortable second skin. She added a slight, subtle smile as they walked in, a smile that said she would rule over her own reactions and her own personal universe, come what may. She was, he decided, quite remarkable.
“Mr. President, Mrs. Black and Special Agent Savich are here.”
Thornton Gilbert rose from behind his desk, came forward quickly to enfold Natalie in his arms. He spoke quietly to her, then stepped back and shook Savich’s hand.
“Agent Savich, it is a pleasure to see you again. Agent Sherlock is well? And your son? Sean?” Savich answered on script, assuming that Mrs. Janikowski prepared him with personal particulars on all his visitors.
The president nodded and turned serious. “Agent Savich, I will admit I was relieved to hear you were accompanying Natalie here. I’m very pleased you’re involved.”
Savich had always thought this president could play the role of the president of the United States in a movie if he wished. He was tall enough—that is, over six feet—he was fit without the hint of a paunch hanging over his belt, and he was blessed with a full head of dark brown hair with gray wings at the temples. He looked competent and measured, a man who would think things through before acting, a plainspoken man you could trust. Had he practiced that look, that expression?
There was no doubt in Savich’s mind that the president was genuinely pleased to see Natalie, an excellent sign. He turned to Mrs. Janikowski. “Bess, could you fetch us coffee and some of those good nutty rolls from the dining room?”
Bess Janikowski nodded, smiled at Natalie, and left. As for Chief of Staff Eric Hainny, he hovered until the president said, “Eric, would you run through the remarks they’ve prepared for this evening with the press secretary? I won’t have the time.”
It was a clear dismissal. Hainny paused for only a moment, then took himself off.
The president said, “Sit down, sit down, both of you. Nat, what’s been happening to you is a nightmare. I can’t tell you how sorry I am and how very worried both Joy and I are for you and for Perry as well. Director Comey has briefed me about the Scotland Yard investigation and the horrendous incident at your home last night. I asked you here to assure you we’re going to keep you safe, and bring whoever did this to justice.”
Natalie wanted to cry, but of course she didn’t. She’d hoped he would support her, but, in truth, she hadn’t expected it, not with all the political realities at play, even factoring in the events of the previous night that had shut the mouths of those who said she’d made up the attack in England.
Of course she and Thorn and Brundage and Arliss had been close for more years than any of them wished to acknowledge, but he was still the president of the United States, the most powerful man in the world, and their friendship, no matter how long or how deep, couldn’t matter to any decision he made about her. She cleared her throat. “I’ve been wondering why I am still an ambassador after all that’s happened.”
He laughed, a rich baritone that filled the room. He sat forward, his hands clasped between his knees. “Nat, we’ve known each other since we were twenty years old. It’s because I know you so well, because I know who you are and what you are, that I never doubted your word, not for an instant. Now, after last night, no one else can doubt you, either. Nat, let me say, and I plan to say this only once—you would not be helping me by resigning. I have other plans for you.”
He broke off when Bess Janikowski slipped in carrying a beautifully worked antique silver tray. She set about giving them coffee, tea for Agent Savich, and she said when he looked surprised, “Oh, I know everything about you, Agent Savich,” and she smiled at him on her way out. No one took a warm nutty roll.
As Mrs. Janikowski was leaving, Arliss Goddard Abbott came into the Oval Office, Eric Hainny lumbering behind her, both looking determined. The secretary of state walked in looking like the queen of the world, exuding arrogance and competence like a potent perfume. But, Savich decided, it was the arrogant set of her head that sealed the deal, and the aura of good old pioneer grit.
The president rose. “Arliss, I’m glad you’re here, but I’d expected you a bit later. I trust Brooxey is well?”
“Brooxey provides me endless entertainment,” Arliss said, not a hint of sarcasm in her smooth voice.