CHAPTER THIRTEEN
4:55 p.m. Eastern Standard Time
The White House Residence
Washington, DC
“I hate this,” Susan said.
They were standing in her bedroom, the same place where they had been rudely awakened by the telephone—she glanced at the clock—a little more than twelve hours ago. It had been a long, stupid day, full of faraway tragedy that somehow hit close to home, and vague, mysterious threats that might not mean anything.
But the threats had to be investigated, and naturally, superhero Stone had taken it upon himself to go out there and do it.
The heavy blue curtains had been thrown wide by the housekeeping staff, probably sometime this morning, and the last of the weak winter sun shone through the triple-paned bulletproof glass. The afternoon was gone, gray and fading. Night wa
