Page 6 of Air Force One (Miranda Chase #16)

Drake waited as long as he could stand it, about twenty seconds, before excusing himself from the crushing silence that enveloped the President’s office.

The First Couple deserved some quiet time together, especially if it proved to be their last. He mumbled out something about going to see if he could be of any assistance. They all knew he couldn’t.

He and Roy kept it to a simple handclasp for their decades of friendship and eight years of service together. Neither of them had any words.

Rose unbuckled her seatbelt and stood with the innate elegance of the great hostess she was and gave him an unexpectedly hard hug. She also bestowed a kiss on his cheek before returning to her husband’s side. Even she found nothing to say.

The senior comm officer was stepping out of the cockpit. He latched the door open and offered a sharp salute before waving a hand asking if Drake wanted to meet with the pilots.

He shook his head. Drake didn’t need to go to the cockpit to confirm their status. The five officers who could run a global war from the upper deck of Air Force One—staring at their displays in grim silence—answered that. There was nothing he could do in the cockpit except get in the pilots’ way.

The officer approached but didn’t appear able to speak at the moment.

“I need to place some phone calls. May I have a private line?”

The man indicated the empty seat normally reserved for the President. A girl, a woman—God, they were all so young—seated at the next station over handed him a headset and then tapped the screen to bring up a keypad display.

Drake dialed as she turned back to contemplate her own, now useless, screen.