'My God,' she said.
'Impressive, isn't it?' Kelly said. 'It's been on order since nineteen eighty-six. The delays have been a headache, the cost-overruns a political embarrassment, from two hundred and sixty-five million to six hundred and fifty million, but finally here she is, and I have to say, in spite of everything, the wait was worth it.'
What Tess stared at, overwhelmed, was an aircraft six stories high and so long it would have dwarfed a football field – the hughest 747 she'd ever seen, its lines (including the bulge above its nose) incredibly sleek, exuding power, a large American flag painted on its rudder, the words UNITED STATES OF AMERICA stencilled boldly along its side, its color predominantly white with highlights of blue.
'I've never seen…' Tess felt so awestruck that she couldn't speak for a moment. 'Even when my father was alive, I never saw… On TV, yes, in newspapers and magazines. But never in person. Up close like this… it's hard to believe. It takes my breath away.' She spoke with reverence. 'Air Force One.'
'Actually Air Force Two,' Kelly said, 'but you really can't tell them apart. Of course, the pictures you saw were of the old one. The seven-oh-seven. It had to be retired because that model was being phased out, and spare parts were hard to find. It was an awfully fine aircraft. I was sorry to see it go. But that plane can't possibly compare to this new one and its counterpart. Boeing outdid itself. This is truly one of the finest passenger jets in the world, perhaps the finest. You'll see what I mean when you board her.'
'Board?' Craig asked in surprise.
'You mean you weren't told?' Kelly sounded equally surprised.
'Our only instructions were to come to Andrews Air Force Base as soon as possible.'
'I wondered why you hadn't brought luggage. Don't worry. You won't have to rough it. We've got plenty of overnight kits – tooth brushes, shampoo, razors.' Kelly glanced politely toward Tess. 'More personal items. And a bathtub-shower. Whatever you need.'
'But…' Tess hesitated, aware of the miniature radio transmitter built into her shoe, conscious that Father Baldwin would be listening, that he'd be as anxious to know the answer to her question as she was. 'Where are we going?'
'Spain.'
The word made Tess feel light-headed.
Spain. Where Father Baldwin had said that the heretics, fleeing France, had found a new home after the attack on Montsegur in 1244.
Spain! Did that mean Gerrard was her enemy?
Or was her destination merely a coincidence?
Tess felt frozen. At once, regaining control of her muscles, she braced herself. All of her instincts made her want to turn and run.
But to where?
And howl The sentries would stop her. She'd never be able to get off the base.
She fidgeted.
'Is something wrong?' Kelly asked.
'No.' Tess tried to recover, to seem natural. 'I'm just surprised is all. Everything's happening so fast. Two hours ago, I didn't expect to be coming here, and now you tell me I'm flying to Spain.'
'I understand what you mean about feeling surprised,' Kelly said. 'Until just after midnight, I wasn't aware we'd be having visitors.' He checked his gold Rolex watch. 'We'd better hurry. In ten minutes, we're scheduled to be air-borne.'
Tess pivoted toward Craig, keeping her face calm but knowing that her eyes revealed her panic.
Craig squeezed her hand, his eyes communicating. We're stuck. We've got to go through with this.
Kelly gestured, leading them onward toward the brightly lit jet.
They reached a tall boarding ramp on wheels.
Tess climbed, counting twenty-six steps, and entered an open hatch behind a massive swept-back wing.
Once inside, sickened by her speeding pulse, she realized that there was no turning back.
Behind, below her, on the tarmac, air-force personnel pulled away the boarding platform. Inside the jet, a uniformed flight attendant shut the hatch and secured it.
She was trapped on Air Force Two.
FIVE
As she studied her surroundings, Tess noticed that the cabin's width was emphasized by its reduced length. Ahead and behind, bulkheads with doors restricted the space. The seats – she counted seventy – resembled first-class airline accommodations, except that they were even larger, more comfortable looking, and the aisles seemed wider than usual. Numerous phones were attached to the fore and aft bulkheads.
This must be where the press and the president's – in this case, the vice president's – team stayed, Tess thought, although she was puzzled that the cabin was empty, except for the uniformed flight attendant.
'We'll be taking off soon,' the attendant said, 'but I think you have time to enjoy a glass of champagne.'
'Mineral water will be fine,' Tess said.
'Same for me,' Craig said.
'What are you serving?' Kelly asked the attendant.
'Dom Perignon.'
'I'll have some.'
'Very good, sir.'
'In the meantime,' Kelly said, 'I'd better tell the vice president that his guests have arrived.' He walked toward the front of the cabin, knocked on the door, and waited.
A discreet pause later, he knocked again.
The door opened.
'Sir, they're here,' Kelly said.
'Excellent,' a sonorous voice said. The door swung quickly farther open.
Alan Gerrard stepped through.
Although Tess had seen Gerrard often at receptions at her parents' home, and sometimes at less formal get-togethers, she hadn't met him since he'd become vice president.
As he approached her, smiling, he looked the same – movie-star handsome, with a perfect tan, glinting teeth, photogenic features, and magnificent hair. The only difference was that six years had made him look more responsible, more wise, more seasoned, despite his reputation for caring more about tennis than he did about politics.
No matter. Regardless of her suspicions about him, Tess couldn't help responding to his aura of achievement. The vice president. In her mind, the words had magic. She almost surrendered to his influence.
But didn't.
She had to keep reminding herself that he was very possibly her enemy.
Gerrard wore casual but impressive clothes – hand-sewn loafers, finely pressed linen slacks, a custom-made Sea Island cotton shirt, greens and browns. Coming nearer, he held out his arms. 'Tess.' He embraced her, kissing her cheek with affection, reassurance, and sorrow.
'Your mother.' He shook his head. 'She's a great loss to everyone, to every politician, including me, who ever enjoyed her gracious hospitality. But most of all, she's a loss to you. She'll be a legend of strength, of generosity, in this jaded community that needs every example of excellence they can possibly find to show them the proper way.'
Tess stepped back, rubbing her tear-stinging eyes. She resolved that the best, least suspicious, most natural thing to do was to treat him the way she had before her father had died. 'Thanks, Alan, but don't you think the rhetoric's a little extreme? You're not campaigning, after all. Your sympathy is appreciated. Really. But a simple, straight-forward "I'm sorry" will do.'
Gerrard studied her, evidently not used to irreverence. At once, his eyes twinkled, blue, Tess noticed, although the one on the right looked irritated, streaked with red. 'Good. I'm glad to see you're keeping up your spirits,' he said. 'Still as feisty as the last time I saw you.'
'I guess I can't help it. I got it from my parents.'
'And God bless both of them. They're sorely missed. Lieutenant Craig, I understand you've been a tremendous help to Tess in her danger and her grief. You're welcome here.'
'Thank you.'
The uniformed attendant brought glasses of mineral water to Tess and Craig, Dom Perignon for Kelly.