57
“This ‘doesn’t feel like an attack’?” Clarissa sputtered and nearly choked on the slice of pepperoni pizza they’d offered her as breakfast.
She’d have to go double on the treadmill today to just clear the grease out of her system, never mind the calories. Not willing to face a Red Bull, she had a can of Diet Coke they’d scrounged up at three in the morning.
Some breakfast.
“How does taking down the Vice President’s plane not feel like an attack?”
Harry grabbed a pair of pizza slices, sprinkled them with red peppers from a shaker on Heidi’s desk shaped like some lumpy golden ball with filigree wings. Then he folded the two slices face-to-face and began eating them. Heidi tossed a couple of paper towels into his lap.
“Well,” he managed to speak clearly despite the mouthful, “his fir
