The Boeing Canard Dragonfly, with its sleek hull, rotor wing, and fixed forward and aft stabilizers, is a cross between an airplane and helicopter. While in ‘helicopter mode’ the aircraft is capable of vertical takeoffs, hovering, and landing. In ‘airplane mode’ the rotor wing locks into a stationary position and its jet engines kick in, propelling the craft at cruising speeds.

Dominique greets Ennis Chaney as he steps down from the airship, his dour expression speaking volumes.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Inside.’ The former president leads her inside the main house. ‘Sorry. Too many listening devices buzzing around these days.’

‘You look exhausted.’

‘I’m getting old, and there are still too many windmills to fight before I die. Where are the boys?’

‘Manny’s in the weight room, Jake’s meditating. Now talk to me.’

‘GOLDEN FLEECE has lost patience. They want access to the twins, or they’ll close down your compound.’

‘Bastards. Can they do that?’

‘Unfortunately, they do whatever they want. Today, GOLDEN FLEECE is asking. Tomorrow they’ll be telling. These guys don’t take no for an answer.’

‘To hell with them. We’ll leave.’

‘Where will you go? No matter where, eventually they’ll find you.’

‘Shit.’ She sits on the edge of the stone coffee table, pinching tension from her brows. ‘Manny will run. Jake might be into all this MAJESTIC mumbo jumbo, but Manny hates it.’

‘I know.’

‘Did you know Dr. Stechman’s treating him for depression?’

‘He’ll have to deal with it as best he can.’

‘Screw you, Ennis! This is my son’s life we’re talking about.’

‘I’m not happy about this either.’

She grabs her car keys and sandals.

‘Dominique, wait, where are you going?’

‘For a drive. Want to arrest me?’ She exits through the garage, slamming the door behind her.

Chaney hears the SUV hydrogen fuel cell whine to life, its wheels squealing in protest as Dominique accelerates down the driveway.

Let her go, she needs to blow off some steam.

The former president hobbles over to the refrigerator and grabs a bottled water. Changes his mind. Searches the liquor cabinet. Pours himself a shot of whiskey.

‘My mother’s right. Manny can’t take much more of this isolation.’

Chaney looks up as Jacob enters the kitchen. ‘I’m not the one calling the shots, kid. Not anymore.’

Jacob nods. ‘I think it’s time I started calling the shots.’

St. Augustine, Florida

It is dark by the time Dominique parks her car in front of Evelyn Strongin’s home. The drive has done little to ease her frayed nerves. What she needs now is advice.

Dominique walks up the old redbrick path to the entrance. Holds her palm to the security keypad.

Surgically implanted in Dominique’s palm is a microchip identification device, no larger than a grain of rice. Recognizing her ‘key,’ the electronic bolt unlocks.