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After the lengthy meeting with the Chief of Staff and his wife aboard the echoingly empty backup of Air Force One in the hangar at Andrews, Claudia’s need to get away had hit its limit.
Michael drove her along the Potomac to the Marines’ HMX-1—the group who flew the Marine One helicopters for the President—where she “commandeered” a utility helicopter from General Arnson by using the simple technique of begging. After serving three tours as a Marine flier, she’d gotten to know the commander enough to borrow an old Black Hawk they used as a trainer. She needed to go somewhere private, and she needed to straighten things out in her head.
Michael sat silently in the copilot’s seat while she flew and the insane jangles of the last twelve hours slowly drained out of her.
“Just twelve hou
