Page 85 of The Presidents Shadow

I AM DETERMINED that Margo and I will not sit like two weak and wounded animals after the partial collapse of our Peruvian plan.

Dache and Laksa are safe in exile. My colleagues are depressed and confused.

Margo and I are in a holding pattern while we decide what to do with the information that Ambrose is located somewhere in Africa.

This is a huge leap forward, but the question remains—what do we do now?

To truly conquer the scientific capabilities of Glenn Ambrose would take an air force and perhaps a navy of monumental strength.

Even Dache—and certainly not me—cannot conjure up that kind of extraordinary power.

Margo takes the opportunity to administer the last dose of the experimental Newbola vaccine to me.

It had completely fallen off my radar after meeting with Dr. Laksa, and our ill-fated Peru mission had clouded my spirits even further, driving it entirely from my mind.

When Margo mentions it, I offer no argument.

Since none of the team suffered any ill consequences, I believe it’s safe.

I even try to convince her to use it for herself, but she refuses.

After she injects me, Margo sips very hot basil-mint tea. I try to meditate, unsuccessfully. Grandma Jessica stays alone in the tech room trying to trace and track the actions of Glenn Ambrose long after the other members of our group have gone to their rooms for the evening.

Finally, Margo breaks the silence between us.

“We can sit here until the end of time, but it won’t help,” she says.

“You’re right,” I say. “But the end of time could arrive in the next few hours or the next few days.”

Margo smiles and says, “It always helps to have a sense of humor.”

“I wasn’t being funny,” I say. The fact is, I actually mean that.

We remain silent for a few more minutes, and then Margo speaks again.

“You know that there is an alternative, something we could do right now,” she says.

“I know what you’re going to say,” I tell her. “You think that it’s time to get in touch with President Townsend.”

“Yes, I do. No matter what you think of him—traitor, monster, dictator—he and this nation have the means at their disposal to help us.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” I ask, trying not to sound angry.

“Of course you know that,” Margo says. “But what I need to see you do is act on that knowledge.”

“No. I’m not going to involve Townsend until that becomes our very last chance,” I say.

“And when will that be, exactly?” says Margo, who has clearly run out of patience with me. “You just said yourself that the end of time could arrive in the next few hours.”

I prepare myself for a long, tough argument with the person I care about the most in the world.

But that possibility is eradicated the moment Grandma Jessica walks into the room. She is clearly nervous and upset.

“Maddy’s car has just been found abandoned on the side of the highway.”