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  “I don’t trust Gregorovich.”

  “Yeah, neither do I. He does have the connection, Alex.”

  “Because he was close to Dmitri?”

  “Yes. And, he’s part of the upper echelon at ASA.”

  Alex wished she would never have to hear the name, ASA again. Applied Strategic Applications—a technology giant in Europe—a corporation that devoted resources to some of the most egregious human rights violators in the world. A company that had no conscience beyond the numbers in its bank accounts. Dmitri Kargen was little more than a hired hitman. Alex placed Pytor Gregorovich in the same category. “Just be careful, Claire.”

  Claire fastened her luggage.

  “Claire?”

  Claire sat down on the top of her suitcase. “I can’t promise you that, Alex. Caution doesn’t get the same results.”

  Alex glared at her partner.

  “You don’t have to like what I’m saying. That doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

  “Don’t be reckless.”

  “Alex,” Claire addressed her partner seriously. “They have to believe that I am the same—the Claire they know. That person doesn’t proceed with caution.”

  Alex didn’t know what to say. That was true.

  “If you trust me, you need to trust that I know how far to push.”

  “Claire, this could lead us anywhere or to anyone.”

  “We both know this is an endless road,” Claire replied. “It will come down to which direction we choose.” Claire stood and grabbed the handle of her case. “I’ll contact you through Eleana. You work on things from your end. Let me do what I do. I’ll see you in a week or two.”

  “You had better.”

  ***

  Sick. Candace felt sick. Again. She listened carefully as the facts were rolled out on the conference call. She’d stopped listening when she heard, “seven dead, ten injured—four of those critically.” A momentary silence prompted her to speak. “None of this is acceptable,” she said without any reservation. Silence. She continued. “I want to know every detail. When I say that I want to know every detail, that is precisely what I mean. I want to know about these kids—all of them. That included the shooter. I want to know about the administration and the teaching staff. I want to know what injuries were incurred. I want to know the type of weapon. I want to know the point of entry. I want to know if it was planned, how long he had been planning this, and any—and I mean any indication of what motivated this. Everything. Don’t assume that any of it is unimportant.”

  Don Milton cautioned Candace with a glance. She glared back at him.

  “You have my full support,” Candace said. “Not my prayers, although you have those as well. You have this administration’s support. If there is something we can help provide, you call Don directly,” she advised the mayor on the other line. “As soon as you make notifications, I will place calls to the families. I’d also like to speak with Principal Davies and offer my support to him directly.”

  Don groaned. Candace flashed him a stern, silent warning.

  “Thank you,” Mayor Brenda Duggan replied.

  “Brenda,” Candace began. “You have a direct line to me for the next week. Direct line. Use it. Don or Dana will see that I get your message.”

  “Thank you, Madame President.”

  “Candace,” Candace replied. She took a deep breath. “Thank you for the update. I know this is a fluid situation. I also know how painful and stressful the coming hours and weeks will be for each of you. I don’t have a remedy—not for the issue and not for what you are each going to face. I do know that you will all be changed. You will all be challenged. I am sorry for all of you and your community.” She nodded to Don.

  “President Reid will stay apprised. I will be in touch later this afternoon. and we will put a protocol in place for continued communication. Thank you.”

  The speaker went silent. Candace stared at her Chief of Staff. “None of what I said is a request, Don.”

  “Candace, you have enough on your plate—"

  Candace held up her finger. “There is not one thing on my plate that takes precedence over school children gunned down in a classroom. Not one. Am I clear about that?”

  “Crystal,” he said.

  “Take a break,” she told the room. “We have another hour before we land. Let’s regroup when we’re on the ground.” Candace took a deep breath. “I’ll make my way to the press pool in a few minutes.”

  Don was ready to protest. Candace’s expression told him she was not flexible on this point.

  “Are you sure you want to address this directly? Candace, I can speak with them and…”

  “No. Let them know they can expect us in ten minutes,” Candace said.

  “Us?” Dana asked.

  “I think this is one of those times Jameson should be present.”

  “Do you really think—”

  Candace held up her hand. “Ten minutes, Dana.”

  Dana nodded. She looked at Don Milton and he opened the door for her.

  “This one struck a nerve,” Don observed when they had passed through the door.

  “Not this one,” Dana corrected him. “Every one.”

  “You know that bringing Jameson with her,” he began.

  “She has her reasons,” Dana said. “Trust me, Don; if there is one thing you don’t question Candace about it is anything to do with Jameson.”

  “So, I’ve learned.”

  “Remember it. It’ll save you a lot of frustration.”

  ***

  Marianne sat in front of the television with her hand over her mouth.

  “Mom is not going to be happy,” Shell observed.

  “How can this keep happening?” Marianne asked.

  “You don’t want to open up that can of worms,” Shell replied. She jostled Brody on her shoulder.

  Marianne picked up her phone.

  “What are you doing?” Shell asked.

  “Calling JD.”

  ***

  Candace stepped into the press pool area of Air Force One. She offered the assembled group a solemn smile. “Sit,” she instructed them. She walked inside with Jameson behind her. “I wish I were here with better news,” she said. “I realize you’re aware of what occurred this morning in Nevada. I won’t rehash the details. You can get those from the briefings.”

  “Not the way to start your first foreign trip,” Stella Moreau chimed.

  Candace nodded. “As I said earlier when this reached my desk, this is not the news you want on any day. Unfortunately, it has become the lead story on too many days.”

  “How do you think it will impact your trip?”

  “It certainly doesn’t make our country gleam with possibility,” Candace said honestly. “I’m about to spend twelve days in countries where episodes of gun violence range from virtually non-existent to extremely rare.”

  Josh Barrow spoke. “Do you expect to be questioned about gun control?”

  “I expect that our friends in Europe will be curious to understand why we refuse to act. So, the short answer is yes.”

  “Governor Merrick’s statement says this isn’t the time for politics.”

  Candace could have throttled the governor. Typical. Thoughts and prayers. “That’s Governor Merrick’s opinion.”

  “But not yours?”

  “When is the time?” Candace asked rhetorically. She leaned casually against a seat. “Two weeks from now? In another day or month when we confront this at yet another school? During an election? After the election?” Candace shook her head. “How many of you have children?”

  Ten hands rose immediately.

  “When would you like me to address this—politically? When you get the call from your child’s school that there is an incident? When you are praying your child comes out alive? When you’re watching your child marched out of their classroom military style?”

  “Too late,” someone mumbled.

  Candace nodded. “It’s alrea
dy too late,” she said. She sighed heavily. “I don’t have a neat and tidy solution,” she admitted. “I do know that this cannot be tabled. It has to be a constant discussion and an issue that we make a consistent effort to address—at every level.”

  “Including gun control?”

  “Including everything,” Candace said.

  “What about you?” a voice inquired. “Ms. Reid has long been an advocate of the second amendment.”

  Candace looked at Jameson to answer.

  “I was raised with guns,” Jameson said. “Yes, I think people have a right to own a firearm. That doesn’t mean I think there shouldn’t be restrictions. We restrict all kinds of things in this country—sensibly.”

  “So, you agree with your wife’s policies?”

  “I do.”

  “Really?”

  Jameson steadied herself. “We have a son in grammar school,” Jameson said. “And, you know, I worry about him—we worry about him. He has constant protection. We also have grandchildren and nieces and nephews attending schools all over the country. I don’t think they should have to carry the fear that they will be shot in the middle of a test or recess. My right to have a gun does not mean more to me than the life of my child.”

  “You see no gray area?”

  Candace intervened. “This is always where the discussion goes awry.” She looked at the gathered faces intently. “No one person in my administration or any that has come before it has ever proposed abolishing the right to own a firearm—no one. The slightest inference of that idea as a point of fact is not only disingenuous, it’s dangerous.” She took a deep breath. “I’m not afraid to talk about this directly. And, I will not shy away from the political, as you put it, implications. Today demands that we address this issue.”

  “What about a time for comfort?”

  “Have you ever lost a child? Any of you?”

  Jameson cringed. Uh-oh.

  Candace nodded. “Losing a child to natural causes is horrific. Losing your child to an act of senseless violence is unthinkable. Comfort? My heart aches for every parent waiting to be reunited with a child right now. It breaks for the families whom will never have that chance again. And it sickens me to know that all the students and teachers in that school have had their lives forever altered. Each of them is in my thoughts and my prayers. I know Jameson feels the same way. A kind word and a hug—a prayer—all of that helps. It doesn’t change reality. As a mother, I offer all of those things. As the president, as an elected leader, as a person with a voice—it’s my responsibility to facilitate change.”

  Jameson squeezed Candace’s hand. She looked at the men and women in the small room and smiled. “I don’t know what anyone wants Candace to say. Sometimes, I wonder if anyone listens to what she is actually saying.”

  Candace chuckled.

  “I do know that nothing matters to either of us more than our children. That much, I can tell you. That’s why she came in here to talk to you—not to you as the media—as parents and as people.”

  Josh Barrow cleared his throat. “President Reid?”

  “Yes, Josh?”

  “This might seem like an off-the-wall question.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first,” she said with a wink.

  “Does the fact that you did lose a baby effect your thinking on this issue?”

  “It shapes my thinking on every issue,” Candace said. “The same as raising Jonah, Shell, Marianne, and Cooper has shaped my perspective about everything.” She took a deep breath and released it slowly. She felt Jameson squeeze her hand. “Long before I held any office, I was a mother. You never stop being a mother,” she told the young journalist. “No matter how old your kids get, you never stop worrying about them and wanting the best for them. Losing Lucas was devastating,” she said honestly. “I understand what the loss of a child feels like, Josh. I pray that you never know that grief. It’s not an off-the-wall question at all.”

  The room fell silent.

  Candace smiled. “Listen, I hope that we never have this discussion again. Unfortunately, I think we all know that we will.”

  “Will this interfere with your agenda in Europe?”

  “No. It will alter it in some way. Perhaps, some of our friends will offer insight.”

  “You would take advice from a foreign leader on domestic policy?”

  “I will listen to anyone who has good intentions and interesting ideas,” Candace said flatly. “Will I follow their advice? Maybe. Maybe not. I am happy to listen.”

  ***

  “I wish she wouldn’t insist on being so candid,” Don said.

  “You’ll be doing a lot of wishing.”

  “Why does she insist on speaking off the cuff? Did she even discuss talking points with you?”

  “Don, Candace does not need talking points.”

  “She does if she doesn’t want to compromise her agenda.”

  “I think she’d disagree.”

  “Do you?”

  “It doesn’t matter. She has the best instincts of anyone I know. And, she is the boss.”

  Don huffed. “I hope she sticks to the script in Europe.”

  Dana laughed. “Well, that’s better than wishing.”

  ***

  “Who called?”

  “Marianne,” Jameson replied.

  “Everything okay?” Candace asked.

  “Yeah. Just worried about us and rattled. Shell is there.”

  “That won’t help with the rattling.”

  Jameson sniggered. “True. She also wanted to know if it would be all right for her to visit Cooper for a couple of days while we’re away. I asked her when she started thinking she needed to ask.”

  Candace looked puzzled.

  “I guess Coop called her this morning before school.”

  “I thought we’d tempered his anxiety,” Candace said.

  Jameson shrugged.

  “What about the kids?” Candace asked.

  “Scott has it covered.”

  “Cooper will be thrilled.”

  “You look worried,” Jameson said.

  “Not worried. Curious.”

  “I think she misses Cooper.”

  “I know she does. Sometimes, Jameson, I wish Marianne could’ve moved with us.”

  “Me too.”

  “You miss her,” Candace surmised.

  “I miss Shell too,” Jameson said.

  “I know but Marianne—”

  “Other than you, Marianne is my best friend.”

  Candace smiled. “Still hard to believe.”

  “Well, she didn’t make it easy. She loves Coop. I don’t know, Candace. They have a relationship that’s unique. It’s like she can sense when he needs her. It’s uncanny. He’s the same way. He’s just a kid, but he seems to know when something is bothering Marianne—intuitively. If I hadn’t seen it; I wouldn’t believe it.”

  “I don’t know why you wouldn’t believe it, you’re the same way with Jonah.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “You are.”

  “Maybe,” Jameson conceded. “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m all right,” Candace said. “Disgusted. But I have to stay focused on what I can do and what I need to say.”

  “Are you worried about this trip?”

  “Not worried.”

  “Curious?” Jameson teased.

  “That too. Cautious.”

  “Anything I can do to help?”

  “Yes.”

  “Name it.”

  “Remind me when we close the door to leave my caution behind.”

  “Done. Can we keep the curiosity?” Jameson requested playfully.

  Candace laughed. “Lunatic.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THAT EVENING

  MUNICH, GERMANY

  Chancellor Theresa Keller offered Candace a welcoming embrace. “Finally,” she whispered. “No more video calls.”

  “It’s good to see you, Theresa.”

&n
bsp; “And you, Candace.” Theresa Keller turned her attention to Jameson. “Ah, the enigmatic Jameson Reid,” she said. “Welcome.”

  “Chancellor,” Jameson replied.

  “Theresa,” the chancellor corrected Jameson. “In this house, we are all friends. God only knows how rare it is to find friends these days.”

  Candace walked alongside Theresa Keller. Jameson fell in step with the chancellor’s husband, Leon.

  “Not the best morning, I heard,” Theresa offered.

  “Not at all,” Candace admitted.

  “I confess, it’s not easy for Germans to understand, for most Europeans—the thought that our children might be gunned down by children.”

  “I don’t know how anyone can comprehend it,” Candace said.

  “I don’t envy you.”

  “That’s wise,” Candace said lightly.

  Theresa Keller laughed. “Aside from the domestic issues we both face, what are you hoping for on your tour?”

  Excellent question. “Do you want the public line or the truth?”

  “Truth.”

  “I’d like to say transparency.”

  “But you know better.”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “It’s never easy, Candace—to surmise who is actually an ally. I’m afraid those are few.”

  “That’s uplifting.”

  Theresa Keller lopped her arm with Candace’s as they strolled down a private corridor. “Most people will talk about common enemies and mutually beneficial economic agreements.”

  “And you?” Candace asked.

  “This is Germany,” the chancellor said. “We’ve been enemy to the world. I’m interested in alliances, Candace. Not arrangements or agreements—alliances. Trust. As much transparency as possible. Even in the Union there are deep divides—mistrust. It’s a precarious time for all of us.”

  “I realize we have not always lived up to our public partnership,” Candace said.

  “No. Neither have we.” The pair turned a corner. Theresa Keller nodded to her husband to continue into the room where the press would greet them. She shuttled Candace aside and into a small office. She waved their trailing entourage to proceed. “I wanted to speak here—before we are on display and before our meetings are recorded and notated.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “There’s a powerful movement, Candace—one that is determined to turn back a page of history. Technology has fractured what was once the backbone of power. There are many whom believe that turning back the clock to a simpler time would restore order. Definitive lines on the map. A time before the UN or the EU. Your country, and mine, and the United Kingdom are their greatest targets. They will do anything they can to undermine our efforts to secure peace. Trust between us is essential. And, frankly, not something we’ve enjoyed. Not behind the curtain.”