“Ah, there you are.”
Emily heard the door snick shut behind her. For that alone, Frank Adams would not escape the gym unscathed.
The Oval Office spread out before her. She’d entered near the apex. A fireplace to her left sported a portrait of George Washington above the mantel. Her buddy Abe stared down on her from the right, not looking nearly as friendly as his statue. A circle of chairs and couches filled the center of the space.
Commanding the far end of the room squatted the impossible mass of the Resolute desk. It was a psychic blow declaring, “Here is power!” There were no chairs facing it or beside it. Nowhere to sit when facing the man behind the desk. Nowhere to hide. If this President wanted you to sit in his presence, he gave up the hammer-blow force of his desk and sat with
