Page 29 of The Presidents Shadow

HAWKEYE, TAPPER, AND I escaped from Cambridge, but we are no better off than we were before.

In fact, in my opinion, we are even more confused about the natural crises that are disturbing the entire globe.

A plan? We have no plan. Hawkeye, Tapper, Burbank, Margo, and I meet in our conference room.

Like bad gossip columnists, we must make something out of nothing.

“Our one source of information was Dr. Henry,” I say to the group, “but he decided to avoid involvement in the most shocking way possible. However…”

Everyone looks up at me. Their faces are so full of hope that I wish I had a better announcement to make. But I go on. “However, Dr. Henry’s suicide itself may be a clue.”

“Well, sure,” says Burbank. “I think we can deduce that the good professor knew this natural disaster situation is impossible, unstoppable. This was the old prof’s way of not waiting to become a victim.”

“We should try to hook up with someone at the Environmental Protection Agency of the Americas,” says Tapper. “Surely someone there will know something!”

“Or one of the undersecretaries at Agriculture,” says Burbank.

Margo nods. Then she says, “Someone in this godforsaken world can solve this.”

Then there’s silence in the room. Deadly silence. No ideas at all. No good ideas. No bad ideas. The silence is relentless and infuriating and frustrating, and then… a voice.

“What a bunch,” a familiar voice says; a low chuckle follows. “The only people who can solve this problem are right in this room!”

My heart feels like it’s stopped inside my chest. I’m hearing a voice I thought I’d never hear again, a voice that had been removed from this world forever, lost under tons of dirt and debris in Kyoto.

Jericho Druke stands in front of us—alive and well.

Margo, Burbank, and Tapper all scream. Hawkeye, always quick with a reaction, can only stand and stare.

We are all thankful, yet we are stunned.

How did this happen?