Madam President ✓

24. An Affair

Tanya

"You're going to be the death of me." Agent Wei rubs her forehead.

  "Thanks for allowing this."I sarcastically smile.

  I glance around the room. Walter and Jane will be riding there with me. Jane is already in the motorcade, where it's the quietest- trying to get a hold of Agent Higgins.

I'm about two seconds away from sending secret service to find and- by whatever means necessary, bring her to me if Jane is unsuccessful in her efforts. The FBI as a whole hasn't been very helpful- no matter how hard they've tried. The people who did this meticulously planned every detail- they had to if they wanted to get away with it.

"You ready?" Walter asks. "For your first sort of press conference?"

"Are you?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Absolutely not."

The feeling is mutual.

"Well-" Agent Wei checks her watch. "We've got about five minutes to get there and ... that quick stop so we should probably get going- unless you're backing out?"

Her eyes are almost hopeful, because there is no way to guarantee my safety once I walk out there. I'll be in a crowd- exposed from above because of the short notice, but with the undercover agents they could gather quickly sprinkled around.

"No." I offer Walter my hand. He takes it, and releases the second we're outside. A few dozen yards away, the crowd notices our presence. They were already on high alert since the presidential motorcade pulled up a few feet behind them.

Some agent unlocks the gate with his keycard, and I feel free- like Walter and I are two friends on an evening walk and like I am not the president of the United States.

There are no agents surrounding us- not ones that are visible to average citizens at least, so I'm able to get a good view of the crowd size, and now I understand Agent Wei's anxiety.

Regardless I continue. Some shout questions, while others elbow and yell at them to shut up.

The ones nearest the gate fall silent as we walk up to the shrine. I bend down and get on my knees so I can get a better view. Tiny pebbles dig into my knees but I don't care- I can deal with minor discomfort. The cut on my leg throbs painfully but I ignore it.

And for what feels like the first time since my parents died, I look to the sky.

"Come on you asshole." I think. "What are you waiting for?"

Someone hands me a candle. I don't look to see who, it doesn't matter- but I set it down right below the picture of Gretchen Cook. Lowe's is a little less crowded- people are still holding out hope that they'll see a breaking news headline telling them he's alive.

I stand up.

"What are you doing here, Madam President?" Someone holding another candle asks.

"I'm...." There's no correct answer. Somebody will be pissed regardless. "I'm going to pray with you."

  The reaction is slow. I don't mean this in a bad way, but a lot of people in the crowd do not look religious. They just look like me; paying respects to an "all powerful" deity during a time of tragedy, hoping for something in return.

  But eventually, everybody's heads are bowed and I realize they expect me to lead the prayer. Fuck. I didn't have a script ready for this.

  "Father.... Father god if you are hearing this... and I know you are... please, please show mercy. As a nation we are hurting, crying together even. I pray that you give us some good news- and at the very least save our president. Amen."