POTUS: A Powerplay Novel

by Selena Laurence

  The door opened, and Jessica leapt to her feet, her heart beating a mile a minute.

  “Madam President?” The doctor walked in, hand extended.

  “Yes.” She shook his hand. “Do you have news?”

  “I do. If you’ll walk with me, I’ll give you the update, and then you can see Mr. Masri.”

  “Thank you very much,” she answered grabbing her cardigan off the chair and following the doctor out the door.

  “The bullet entered Mr. Masri’s back, an inch to the left of his spine, lodging in his left lung, missing his heart by a few centimeters.”

  Jessica swallowed the bile that worked its way up her throat. “And if it had hit his heart?”

  The doctor looked at her sadly. “We wouldn’t be having this conversation. You’d be waiting at the morgue instead.”

  She nodded, her breath catching in her throat.

  “We’ve repaired the lung, and his shoulder and back will heal. But we can’t predict what the recovery will look like. He lost a tremendous amount of blood, and I’ll be frank with you, we had to shock him once on the operating table. His heart has suffered a tremendous amount of strain.”

  Jessica stood outside the door to Kamal’s room, arms crossed as a chill swept through her from head to toe.

  “I’d expect for him to regain consciousness in the next forty-eight hours, but if he doesn’t…”

  “Yes, Doctor. If he doesn’t?”

  “Then he might not ever. I’m very sorry. I just don’t want to give you false hope. He’s in critical condition.”

  “I understand,” she said, because that was what she was supposed to say, not because she’d ever really understand how a perfectly healthy man in the prime of his life could be standing next to her one moment and lying at death’s door the next. She hadn’t understood it six years ago when she’d come to the morgue in this very same hospital to identify John’s dead body, and she didn’t understand it any better now.

  “Does Mr. Masri have any family?” the doctor asked.

  “Yes, the State Department is working on notifying them.”

  “Good. In the absence of family, you or your representative are welcome to stay as long as you want. I always feel that the presence of other people is helpful to patients in recovery.”

  “Thank you.” She put her hand on the doorknob and took a deep breath before entering the room.

  Everything was darkened inside, the blinds pulled shut, and only the reading light above the head of the bed turned on. Kamal lay bare-chested, covers pulled up to beneath his rib cage. He was covered in wires with sensors taped to his skin. Tubes pushed oxygen into his nose and fluids into his arms.

  Jessica walked softly to the chair next to his bed and sat heavily. Her staff had brought over a fresh set of clothes, and she was relieved to be comfortable in her POTUS tracksuit.

  She reached out tentatively and touched his hand. When she felt his cool skin under hers, she finally broke. The endless waiting, the fear for his life, the memories of losing John, it had all been trapped inside her for over seven hours, and she had finally reached the breaking point. She wrapped his hand in both of hers, hoping to infuse him with some of her warmth, and then she leaned her head on their joined hands and she cried.

  The tears were hot and heavy, and she shed them for everything she’d lost during her life, and for everything she might yet still lose. Because Jessica realized that if she didn’t get that future she and Kamal had only just begun to visualize, she wasn’t sure she could come back from the loss. She’d never really come back from John’s loss. It was always a partial recovery, the distractions of living his life for him and the dulling effects of time working in tandem to give the world the appearance that Jessica Hampton was a fully functioning, strong widow who had moved on and made a brilliant success of her life.

  But Kamal had seen, as had Fiona, that she wasn’t whole, and it was only when he’d taken the time to find Jessica that she’d allowed herself to let go of John and consider actually living. Kamal had reintroduced Jessica to herself, and she liked who she was, but also liked who she was with him.

  “John, it might seem strange for me to talk to you about this,” she whispered into the quiet room, “but if anyone understands how I’m feeling, it’s you. You’ve been here all these years, watching me go through the motions. You know how much I loved you, and how your death ripped my heart out. That’s why I also hope that you’ve seen what he’s done for me.

  “I’ll never forget you, my love, but I want to go on, and he helps me do that. He makes me happy in a way I haven’t been since you left.” She paused and looked up at Kamal’s face, so pale and still on the bed. “I love him, and I need him to survive this.”

  The machines beeped, and Jessica leaned down and kissed Kamal’s knuckles, one by one. The door opened so quietly that she didn’t hear it, but the slice of light that speared through the dark alerted her to someone’s presence. She quickly tried to wipe her eyes.

  “Madam President?” Derek Ambrose said softly as he approached the bed.

  “Derek.” She stood, trying to gather herself and appear presidential again.

  “Please,” he said. “No need to get up.”

  Maybe it was the commanding tone in his voice, or the fact that she still had ahold of Kamal’s hand, or maybe it was simply her exhaustion, but she complied and sat back down immediately.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I needed to see him with my own eyes.”

  “Of course, that’s why I called you. I’m glad you could come.”

  “I would have been here sooner, but London and I were on our honeymoon. Luckily, we already had a flight back to New York booked, so we were able to move the date up.”

  He paused and stepped closer to the bed, a furrow appearing between his brows. “How is he?”

  “He came through the surgery, but barely.” She felt her throat thicken. “They’re saying that if he doesn’t regain consciousness in the next forty-eight hours—”

  “He will,” Derek interrupted. She looked up at him, and his voice was vehement as he continued. “He’s one of the strongest, most stubborn men I’ve ever known. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be who I am today. He’s relentless about pushing those he loves to do the very best they can. It’s really what drives him—helping others reach their potential. I don’t know that he’s ever given a damn about his own position except as it gives him the power to help the people he cares about achieve what they can.”

  “He gave it all up for me.”

  “Yes,” Derek agreed, “he did, and he was happy to do it.” He squatted in front of her. “Ma’am, you’re my president, so I don’t want to overstep, but you need to know how much you mean to him.” He scratched his head awkwardly. “I’m not sure how to say it, but I think he would give up just about anything for you.”

  The tears came back, and this time Jessica didn’t even try to hide them. “He saved my life again. He got shot because he stepped between the bullet and me. He might die because of me.”

  Derek grabbed her free hand and held it tightly between both of his. “And he would do it all again, even knowing the outcome was this.” He tipped his chin toward the bed. “Please don’t feel badly about this. He wouldn’t want you to spend a moment on guilt. He wants you to be happy, ma’am. Happy and well, and, if possible, with him.”

  “That’s all I want as well.”

  “Good, then when he wakes up, you can both do that.”

  She sniffed and nodded as he stood again.

  “Thank you, Derek.”

  “Of course. I need to go update some of our other friends who are in the waiting room. Will you let us know the minute anything changes?”

  “You’ll be the first.”

  “Thank you.” He slipped out the door nearly as quietly as he’d entered, leaving Jessica alone with the man she loved and as much hope as she could gather.

  “Jess, do you really think this is wise?” Fiona a
sked as she came down the hall at light speed, heels clacking against the tile floors like machine gun fire.

  “Nice to see you too, Senator,” Jessica said from where she stood talking to Vanessa outside Kamal’s room. “Thank you, I’ll come down for that teleconference in ten minutes,” she said to Vanessa, who scurried away as Fiona ground to a halt, hands on hips, one eyebrow raised.

  “You’re going to set up a mobile office in the hospital? Really?”

  Jessica crossed her arms and faced down her defiant friend. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’ve done.”

  “The Senate majority is really concerned about this, Jess. You can’t obtain the secure servers you need for communications here, and if there were a crisis, you’re at least fifteen minutes from the White House.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Fi. I travel to foreign countries several times a year. How far am I from the White House then? Tell your merry band of nervous ninnies that everything is perfectly under control. I’m just down the street, not across the globe.”

  “It’s more than that, and you know it,” Fiona corrected quietly.

  Jessica walked across the hall and sat down, motioning for Fiona to join her on the bench.

  “I know it is, Fi, and I understand their concern, but I’m done caring. I can’t worry about public perception anymore. The man I love sacrificed everything for me, and he’s in a hospital bed…” She swallowed. “And I won’t leave him alone. When he wakes up, I want to be there. I want my face to be the first one he sees. And if, God forbid, he doesn’t make it—I want my voice to be the last one he hears.” She took a deep breath. “I didn’t get to be there for John. I’m not going to abandon Kamal when I have the choice to stay.”

  Fiona’s face cycled through a range of emotions in mere seconds, then she threw her arms around her friend and squeezed tightly. “Oh, Jess. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. I just got an earful from the pro tem and came flying over here. Of course this is where you need to be. How can I help?”

  Jessica pulled away, the love her best friend gave warming her from head to toe.

  “Thank you. And you can help by getting those old men on the Hill to calm down. The last thing I need right now is their hysteria. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Of course, I’ll get on it right away.” Fiona stopped and looked toward the door. “How is he?”

  “No change. We’re in hour twenty-two. The doctor said forty-eight is a critical point. But forty-eight or seventy-two or five hundred, I’m not giving up on him, Fi.”

  Fiona clasped Jessica’s hand. “No, you won’t, and I won’t either. I’m with you, Jess. He will come back to you.”

  “Thank you.”

  As Fiona clacked back down the hall nearly as rapidly as she’d come, Jessica opened the door to Kamal’s room and walked in slowly.

  “You know,” she said as she went to his bed and caressed his face. “You’ve had nearly twenty-four hours to rest up. I think it’s time now to get back in the saddle—that’s one of Fiona’s Texas terms.” She walked to the window with its drawn curtains. “There’s no reason to act as though you’re sick, because you’re not. You’re tired, and your energy is going to healing up that lung, but you are not sick.” She pulled the curtains open, flooding the room with light. Then she returned to Kamal’s bed, where she pressed the button to adjust the bed, sitting him up farther.

  “Now, I can’t believe I don’t know what type of music you enjoy. All these months we’ve spent time together, and we’ve never watched a movie or gone to a concert.” She leaned down and kissed his cheek, whispering in his ear, “We’re going to fix that as soon as you heal.”

  She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and placed it on the tray table next to the bed. “So, you’re just going to have to listen to my playlist. I have to go down the hall for a teleconference, but I’ll ask Peter to sit with you while I’m gone. That way, if you wake up, he’ll get me immediately.” She pressed Play on the phone, and the strains of Meghan Trainor’s “No” filled the room. She leaned down to press one more kiss to his forehead. “I may not know what kind of music you love, but I can guarantee you’ll hate this. Hopefully you’ll hate it enough to wake up.”

  “Not a word about the music, Peter,” Jessica said as she passed him in the doorway.

  Peter shook his head, grinning. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And get me if he so much as twitches.”

  “Of course, ma’am.”

  Jessica walked down the hall to the room her staff had commandeered. It was filled with laptops, IT equipment, phones, whiteboards, and two secretaries, Vanessa, and a handful of Secret Service agents.

  “I’m bringing up the call now, ma’am,” Vanessa said.

  “Perfect. We’ll need to clear the room, please.”

  The secretaries and Secret Service immediately stopped what they were doing and exited.

  “Out of curiosity, where do they go when I kick them out like that?” Jessica asked as she put on the headset she needed for the teleconference.

  Vanessa shrugged weakly. “The hallway?”

  “Oh dear. That probably gets dull. Maybe we need another room to use. This one for the staff and then a separate one for me to do classified business.”

  “Well, ma’am, I was hoping this arrangement wasn’t going to be for more than a day or two. Maybe if it goes past tomorrow afternoon, we can do that?”

  “That’s fine, and let’s make sure to get everyone snacks and drinks brought up so that they’re getting some sort of compensation for sitting around in the hallway and working remotely.”

  “I think that some of the staff are finding compensation in other ways.”

  Jessica raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”

  “Well, Agent Vasquez and Teresa seem to be forming a friendship of sorts.”

  “Annie and Teresa? They don’t seem like… Oh. A friendship?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Well then, I’ll toss them out of the room more often. Annie needs someone to lighten her up. I approve.” She winked at Vanessa, who laughed.

  “Okay, let’s get this call underway.”

  Vanessa clicked on the link, and a room at the White House appeared, the conference table surrounded by military and Homeland Security staff.

  “Good afternoon, everyone.”

  Rumblings of “Good afternoon, Madam President” replied.

  Jessica sat, elbows on the desk, watching the screen carefully. “Tell me about the man who shot at us yesterday.”

  “Andre Vorchevsky, and he’s been very helpful.” Throats cleared around the table, and Jessica took a deep breath.

  “I assume your methods have stayed within the protocols of the Geneva Convention, Colonel?”

  “Absolutely, ma’am. It seems, however, that Mr. Vorchevsky isn’t as loyal to the Bratva as they might have hoped. And when we gave him a choice between spending the remainder of his days at Guantanamo versus Leavenworth, he was especially cooperative.”

  “I’m sure,” Jessica drawled. She hated GTMO, but hadn’t yet figured out a way to get buy-in from the military to close it.

  “Madam President, Vorchevsky’s given us the name of the previous shooter, as well as confirmed the photo Mr. Masri gave us is legitimate and that President Abbas’s brother was acting on his behalf when he met with the Bratva. Mr. Vorchevsky was present on more than one occasion when the Bratva met with Abbas’s brother. But he said that his orders yesterday came directly from President Abbas himself. He was also able to tell us that the Bratva started negotiations to use the Abbas shipping company to transport the drugs last April.”

  “And we have a notification out for the first shooter, I assume?”

  “Yes, ma’am. NATO countries have been given all the details on the shooter’s identity, and our covert ops whom you sent to infiltrate the Bratva are ready to hunt this guy from inside the organization. We suspect he’s been underground since the shooting, but now that we know who w
e’re looking for, we’ll dig him out.”

  “Thank you, Colonel. Now, Madam Secretary.” She turned her gaze to the secretary of state. “We need to convey this latest information to the prime minister in Egypt. Can we get them to agree to give us jurisdiction to arrest Abbas and bring him here for trial?”

  The secretary of state looked at Jessica and rolled her eyes. “Madam President,” she began in her strong New England accent. “You know that’s not going to happen.”

  She smiled at her through the monitor. “I do, but why not begin on an ambitious note?”

  “Getting back to reality, ma’am—”

  Jessica laughed quietly. She loved to irritate her secretary of state.

  “The Egyptian prime minister has been waiting for our call since the shooting yesterday. We never got a chance to give him the photograph of the Bratva with Abbas’s brother, but it’s just as well, because we have a lot more to give him now.”

  “Tell me your plan.”

  “I will present the information to the prime minister with the request that Abbas be suspended from power immediately while the Egyptians conduct their own investigation. I will also request that the assets of Abbas Shipping be frozen and the president’s brother have his passport revoked for the time being.”

  Jessica sighed. She could only hope that all this didn’t send Egypt into a power struggle and riots in the streets. She really could use Kamal’s advice right now. But she’d have to rely on the expertise of her staff and hope for the best, while preparing for the worst.

  “And the military?” she asked.

  “We have extra troops already en route to the region, ma’am,” the general answered.

  “And the embassy has double protection, and we’ll send out a notice of enhanced security suggestions to all Americans living and traveling in Egypt,” the secretary of state added.

  “Okay. Thank you, everyone. I hope to be back at the White House tomorrow, but please keep me informed via Vanessa of hourly updates in this.”