Page 90 of The Presidents Shadow

TOWNSEND AND I despise each other. We have diametrically different views on how to bring peace and happiness to the world. But I must add, Townsend is anything but a fool. He no doubt believes that I am setting him up for some form of betrayal.

But I have no way out of my extraordinary dilemmas without Townsend’s help.

He knows this, and he knows that I know that he knows. As a result, I must look like I am acting in good faith, and the fact is, I really will act that way. I will actually be that way. And if—or more likely, when—he betrays me, then, and only then, will I retaliate.

The deal he presents is simple: I get his assistance, and he gets anything else he asks for.

Yes, Townsend agrees to launch stealth rocket monitors to obliterate any rockets or rocket launchers that Ambrose is working on. Townsend’s air team can “indubitably” (his word) locate and control Ambrose’s designs and plans.

“Your Peruvian adventure was a fiasco,” he tells me. “Too elaborate. Too human. A schoolboy’s idea of combat.”

I am furious with his condescending opinions, but I work hard to keep my anger from showing.

Townsend builds on his demands. He not only wants me to share the details of Dr. Laksa’s involvement but also needs access to whatever computer messages we have from Ambrose.

“My government-trained people are not as skilled at extracting technological data as your little team of children,” he adds.

Children? He calls them children? Jericho? Margo? Burbank? Tapper? Hawkeye? My friends? My colleagues? The best of the best?

“So, we’re going to be sharing information?” I ask.

“Yes,” says Townsend. “In a manner of speaking.”

Then my frenemy says he wants to move on. “Let’s discuss this nasty little flu bug that has everyone so upset.”

I could jump up from my chair and strangle this devil, this monster, but I am tired and weak, and I really do need his help.

“Dr. DaSilva was anxious to work with you, even though I advised against it,” he says.

Remembering her somewhat lukewarm reception in Australia, I can’t help but wonder if Townsend put it into her head that I would try to take credit for any miraculous discoveries.

“I questioned her judgment at the time,” Townsend continues. “I would only use her services if I had a sprained ankle or a bad case of the sniffles.”

“The woman is a genius,” I say, “and she is risking her life, under the most awful conditions, to get the Newbola under control.”

I’m much more positively inclined toward Dr. DaSilva than I was earlier.

After I confronted her with Jericho’s evidence from the UNC meeting regarding how Newbola is spread, she retracted her suspicion of me and my team as the source.

She even released a PSA relating to the public that there was no reason to believe that my team and I had any connection to the pandemic.

Given her credentials, the public accepted her word, making it much easier for all of us to move about freely in public.

“Well, she’ll have a better chance of success if we get her here in Washington, and she can assist my Swedish virologist team at the Johns Hopkins Research Center, where, by the way…”

He pauses for a moment, touches his computer; the screen fills with numbers and equations. He looks at it, then looks back at me and continues.

“… where, by the way, my team doesn’t even think they are dealing with a virus. They suspect it is an airborne bacterial infection, probably just a dangerous one-cell rogue bandit.”

My weakened power notwithstanding, I cannot bear to listen to him any longer.

I got what I came for. I’ll deal with the government air force.

Anna will deal with the Swedish virologists.

I’ve got to get back on the trail of Maddy.

My cell phone has been on nonstop vibration since I entered the Square Office. I stand up and speak to Townsend.

“Well, thank you, Mr. Townsend. I appreciate your cooperation.”

“You are certainly welcome. I appreciate yours as well.”

He tells me that his secretary of protocol will see me to my car. The protocol guy will be waiting outside on the front portico. I head for the office door to leave, but Townsend has one more question to ask.

“Haven’t you forgotten to mention something, Mr. Cranston?”

“No, I’ve said everything I needed to say.”

“Everything? What about the girl!” Townsend says. “Why did you not ask for assistance in finding the girl?”

Shit! Shit! Shit! He even knows about Maddy’s vanishing.

I think I might lie and say I was afraid to overstep my boundaries on a family matter, but instead I create a new lie right on the spot. I say, “I think we have some fine leads on Maddy’s disappearance. Maybe later I’ll come back if I could use your help.”

“Oh, I assure you. You will need my help on this one, getting Maddy back safely.”

“I’ll be back,” I say.

The stupid phony smile appears on his face.

“Why wait when you are here right now? Why wait when time is of the essence?”

I walk back to Townsend’s desk. I sit down in the visitors’ chair. We begin to talk.