At the knock on the conference room door, Clarissa collapsed back into her chair. She’d lost all track of time and had nothing more to report to the White House now than after the crash.
Everything was a dead end.
“Come in.” Clarissa checked her watch.
Seven hours?
Seven hours, and all she knew was that a plane had crashed into Ramson’s suite at the George and someone had crippled a US aircraft carrier. She still had no lead on who for either one.
Rose opened the door and slipped into the room. She looked as she always did, at ease and elegant. Clarissa felt like a rumpled mess.
“Sorry. I had to get that moving.”
Rose nodded. Then she shook her head. Then nodded again.
Her coif was still immaculate. Her clothes had none of the odd soot stains that her own bore. Nor did they look as
