“No, sir,” Fusco says, sitting down. She reviews the itinerary and key event participants on her iPad. “You’ll meet Mayor Bracken on the apron. His wife’s name is Amy. Schoolteacher. Welcome remarks from the mayor. Then you. You’re happy to be in New Hampshire, and in Manchester, the Queen City. Then we convoy to the Bedford Village Inn. Cocktail reception for donors. Then dinner in the great hall. You speak. Bracken speaks. No Q and A. Convoy back to the plane. We should be wheels-up by midnight.”

“Surgical strike,” says Cole. “I like it.”

Fusco leans back in her seat. Cole hears the shift in the engine noise, then the rumble and thud of the landing gear coming down and locking into place. He rubs his eyes and feels the jolt of the wheels hitting the runway at Manchester-Boston Regional Airport. Through the window and across the tarmac, he can see the greeting party and press gaggle. A half a dozen New Hampshire state troopers stand guard nearby.

The jet taxis to a stop. Fusco jumps out of her seat, pulls out her cell phone, and starts nailing down last-minute logistics with her counterpart on the mayor’s staff. When the plane door opens, Fusco looks back at Cole and gives him a thumbs-up.

Game time.

Doug Lambert walks ahead of Cole down the aisle. “Sage deplaning,” he mutters into his lapel mic. The agent stands in the doorway and surveys the area as another agent positions himself by the belly of the plane. Lambert hangs tight to Cole’s side while two more agents scan the greeters.

Cole’s smile gets broader with each step he takes. By the time his shoes hit the tarmac, he’s beaming like a movie star—or at least a beloved character actor.

The mayor and his wife are at the foot of the aircraft steps. Cole grabs Bracken’s extended hand and moves in for a man hug, slapping the mayor’s back soundly. The mayor returns the gesture and whispers in his ear, “Thanks for coming, Cole.”

“My pleasure, Dale. Honored to be here.” Cole releases the hug and turns to the petite woman by Bracken’s side. “Amy! What grade are you teaching now?”

She takes Cole’s hand and grips it firmly. “Middle school, Mr. Wright. Preteens.”

“Please—it’s Cole. Preteens? That must take a lot of energy.” He moves in and gives her an air-kiss about half an inch from her cheek.

Amy Bracken nods. “All the energy I’ve got!”

From there, it’s another quick round of handshakes and backslaps. Then Mayor Bracken taps Cole’s arm and points him toward a bank of microphones on a patch of red carpet. Behind a rope barrier, members of the local media are poised with broadcast cameras and upheld phones.