“Certainly, Madame President,” said the president’s valet. “I await his input.”
Saul said, “Mr. Bond, cast me in ten seconds.” He closed his eyes, took a deep, cleansing breath, and imagined he was alone in his teahouse, walking barefoot across the smooth wooden floorboards and looking out the bank of tall windows. It was hard to concentrate, but he imagined he looked out the windows towards the pink-tinged peaks of the Alaska Range. This was the view that would be blotted out in the next few months, and he couldn’t help but picture a latticework of residential towers growing like giant celery stalks to the sky. Then his perspective changed, and he was high in one of the towers leaning out a window, looking down at his postage-stamp patch of land below. It was like looking down a dim airs
