Theyre Ferragamo. I think she paid about six hundred bucks for them. My wife likes to buy me nice things. She knows Id never buy them for myself.

Give them to me, the young guy said.

Luke shook his head. I cant do that. They have sentimental value. Anyway, I dont think they would fit you.

I want them.

Luke looked around the cell. Every set of eyes was on him. He could imagine how for someone, this might be a tense and frightening situation.

I think you better go sit down, he said. Im not in a very good mood right now.

The kids eyes flashed anger. Give me those shoes.

Luke rolled his eyes. You want them? Take them.

The kid nodded and smiled. He glanced around the cell. Now there was outright laughter. The big tough thug was going to steal the white mans shoes. He leaned in and reached for Lukes feet.

Luke paused a beat, then kicked the kid in the mouth. It was a lightning strike. The kids head snapped back. Teeth went flying, maybe three of them in all. One was the gold tooth in the front. The kid fell backwards. He ended up on his knees, bent over, his hands to his mouth.

Luke sighed. He stood up, stepped up behind the kid, and punched him hard in the back of the neck, right where the spinal column attached to the bottom of the skull. The kid collapsed to the grimy floor. His eyes rolled back. In a few seconds, he was unconscious. A few seconds later, he started making an odd snoring sound.

Luke looked around the cell. He had been in a bad mood before. The young shoe robber had only made it worse. Luke would beat every man in here half to death, if thats what they wanted from him.

The next man who fucks with me loses all his teeth, he said, loud enough that everyone could hear him.

They all stared back, mouths agape, then all finally looked away. Their eyes, so filled with bloodlust but moments before, were now filled with something else: fear.

Chapter 55

5:45 a.m.

United States Naval Observatory - Washington, DC

His name was William Theodore Ryan.

He was the great-great-grandson of plantation gentry. His people, for generations, were proud Confederates and rebels. And here he was, the President of the United States of America.

He was as tired as he could ever remember. He had barely slept last night. Before first light, he had insisted they fly back to Washington from Site R. There was no sense staying underground, was there? The threat was over. And it would show the American people how courageous he was. He wasnt going to hide in a hole in the ground while more than three hundred million people had to go on with their lives above ground, vulnerable to foreign attack.

He smiled at the thought of it.