CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
01:05 p.m.
United States Naval Observatory – Washington, DC
Kat Lopez felt stupid. She wasn’t young anymore, but she felt young, and incompetent, and thrown into the deep end, way over her head.
“Thirty seconds, Susan,” a male voice from the control booth said. “Watch for my light. When the light goes red, you are live.”
Kat stood at the back of the small amphitheater in the New White House, watching the action unfold.
Susan and Pierre were up on the stage at the front, dressed to the nines. Susan wore a blue dress. Her hair was done in a coif on top of her head. Her makeup screamed Hollywood. She was glittering, she was beautiful. Her look was a radical departure from the deliberately dour, serious, conservative image the public relations handlers had been build
