“I’m a federal officer. I know, believe me.”

Kelly sped on, and clinging to her back in the fresh light of the morning, was the terrified woman who had fallen from the sky.

Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THE PRESIDENT

Until this wretched storm, with the economy coming back and the Iraq war finally behind the country and his approval ratings looking somewhat better, Richard Crawford’s presidency had actually been working. He slept well and woke up refreshed, and even his unique marriage had remained comfortably concealed. He had not wanted to leave Carlie out of his life, and thank God it hadn’t been necessary. Virtually every president had had his Carlie Winston, except for the few who’d had boyfriends. Even the most public scandals never touched the real privacy of presidential life. You lived in an apparent fishbowl, but really behind a wall of illusions.

He was in his private office getting ready for FEMA when a rather surprised looking Carlie appeared in the doorway. By day, she was his executive secretary. By night, quietly, she joined him and Lucille in bed. They’d been a threesome for more than twenty years.

He glanced up at her. “Damage report?”

She was silent. He had been expecting information about the hurricane. FEMA—his FEMA—was more than ready to meet any emergency. The legendary catastrophe that had followed Hurricane Katrina would not be repeated on his watch.

Last night, the White House had rocked like a ship, but there had been no structural damage beyond a few leaking windows. Trees were down, of course, but by tomorrow the seat of government was going to look just as it should. The rest of the region, though, was another matter, and the storm was still playing itself out, dumping gallons of rain on New England.

She said, “There is a UFO over San Francisco.”

He laughed. “You’re not drunk at ten in the morning?” But, of course, she didn’t drink. She was a teetotaling Methodist, was Carlie. She’d toasted their victory with a glass of sparkling apple juice.

“No … no. Something is wrong.”

“Excuse me? What are you saying?”

“The military—uh—they’re coming. The intelligence people. It’s an emergency.”

“It’s a UFO.” He chuckled again. Carter and Clinton, two different types of idiot, had both tried to find out what was known inside the CIA about UFOs. What was apparently known was that they were some sort of peculiar phenomenon of no importance that could not be understood and didn’t do anything that mattered. There were these supposed alien abductions, but that had to be a lot of trailer-trash hysteria, right?

She looked at him so gravely that he laughed again. “What’s going on? Clue me in before I’m dealing with the wolf pack.”