Code of Honor

23

As usual, reporters lined up behind the barricade, waiting for Ryan to walk out to Marine One. Jakarta was a long way away, even on Air Force One, and there was no point in going before his advance team and all the vehicles arrived. In any case, Ryan still had a country to run, which included a trip to address members of the North Atlantic Council visiting the United Nations in New York from NATO headquarters in Belgium. NATO countries usually had Russian aggression on their minds, but Ryan intended to keep his ears open for anything to do with China. There was always scuttlebutt, if one knew where to look. The UN was sovereign ground, but it was anything but neutral.

Van Damm stopped him in the Oval as he was getting ready to leave. As a rule, he liked to be empty-handed when he walked to the White Top. He was certain the media gaggle had a pool on when he’d turn to wave and fall on his face. There was a divot in the South Lawn, small, but large enough to catch the toe of his shoe if he wasn’t careful. His body man had his briefcase, and he, along with Gary Montgomery and the other agents who were traveling with him, were already on board Marine One. Ryan would be the last to board.

“What’s going on here, Arnie?” he asked. “You and I both know Pat West is an innocent pawn in some Chinese scheme to get their hands on some AI technology. I’m ready to kick the shit out of Chairman Zhao and let the chips fall where they may.”

“Are you done?” van Damm asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s okay to feel that way, but you need to get it out of your system before you walk past that pack of reporters. They are ravenous for a bloody story — and half of them would prefer it was your blood.”

“I have the most powerful military in the world,” Ryan said. “A military that commands the land, the air, and the sea, at my fingertips. I have sophisticated satellites to study the dimples on golf balls from high above the earth, talented spies who could inveigle the wiliest soul — and yet I sit here, unable to do anything to help my friend.”

“I know,” van Damm said. “Have a pleasant trip, Mr. President. Senator Chadwick has asked to see you again, but I told her you’re too busy at the moment.”

“No,” Ryan said, drawing a look of astonishment from his chief of staff. “Marine One to Andrews, Air Force One to Manhattan, motorcade to the UN, that’s an hour altogether. Two hours on the ground, plus the return trip. Tell her I’ll be back in four hours. In the meantime, I want an update on Father Pat’s status while I’m in the air.”

“Yes, sir,” van Damm said. “We will help him, Mr. President. It’s just going to take some time.”

“You’re damn right we’ll help him,” Ryan said. “If I have to find John Clark and walk up to the prison door with a couple of ax handles and bust him out ourselves.”

“Again,” van Damm said. “Something you might not want to mention in front of the press.”