Hot Pursuit

63

It was broad daylight when Millie closed the curtains in her suite at the Connaught and climbed into bed with Quentin. “You’d better still be awake,” she said, snuggling up to him.

“Wide awake,” he said, fondling a breast and kissing her.

“You didn’t want to stay and see the Dahai jet off?”

“Ian can take care of that. I’m right where I want to be.” He rolled over on top of her. “We have until two-thirty, when the car comes to take us to MI6 for our debriefing teleconference.”

“Then we’d better get started,” she said, guiding him inside her.

It was after midnight before Stone crawled into bed, tired enough to be glad he was alone. He fell immediately into a contented sleep.

He woke at six-thirty and ordered breakfast, then got into a hot shower. He was eating breakfast in bed at seven, when he turned on the CBS Morning News. A banner was spread across the screen: BREAKING NEWS!

Charlie Rose came on. “Good morning. In just a moment we’ll be going to the James Brady Briefing Room at the White House, where the president will be making what we are told will be an extraordinary announcement. Nora O’Donnell, do you have any idea what this is about?”

“Charlie, I hope we’re going to hear that the Middle East negotiations have been successfully concluded. Wait, here we go.”

The White House press secretary stepped to the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said gravely, “the president.”

Then Will Lee entered from stage left, dressed casually in khaki trousers, an open-necked plaid shirt, and a blue blazer. “Sorry, wrong president,” he said, getting a big laugh. “Ladies and gentlemen, it falls to me to make an announcement never before heard at the White House. This morning, a little after five-thirty AM, the president of the United States gave birth to a son.”

The room was on its feet, clapping and cheering.

When the noise had died down Will continued. “He will be named, oddly enough, William Henry Lee the Fifth, continuing a tradition that began with my great-grandfather. He will be called, in the family, Will Henry, after his great-grandfather. In spite of being a few weeks premature, he weighed six pounds nine ounces.”

“Who delivered him?” someone in the front row asked.

“I’m afraid this was a very hurried process,” Will said. “I was awakened from a sound sleep a little late in the game by the president, who asked me to call the doctor. I had hardly finished the call when events took a sudden turn. Assisted by Secret Service Agent Frances Buchannan, who in a previous existence was a registered nurse, I called upon my experience in college, when during two summers I worked as an EMT, and I delivered the boy myself. By the time the doctor arrived, the process was essentially complete.”

More applause, cheering, and stomping.

Will got them quieted down. “Mother and child are resting comfortably, and now I must return to my duties as President Mom. More bulletins to come.”

Will left the podium to cheering, and a photograph of Kate and Will Henry was projected onto a large screen.

Stone found himself grinning and clapping.