CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
President Pierson drummed his fingers against the tabletop of the Situation Room, irritable and anxious in equal measure. Three years of his term had gone more or less swimmingly, and now it felt as if the world was falling down around him.
He was quite proud of the fact that his hair hadn’t grayed during his time in office, as it had with so many other commanders-in-chief. Now he feared that with less than a year to go, there was still plenty of time for the stress to permeate his roots.
He was glad to be out of Camp David and back in the White House; the retreat was a lovely property, but it felt isolated, and even though most of his news and reports came through his chief of staff, Peter Holmes, regardless of where he was, communicating only by phone or computer ma
