TWENTY-ONE

Joshua had a plan. He’d come up with it earlier on the porch but kept it secret from everyone except Abby. His idea was to use the White House ceremony as an opportunity to slip the intelligence he’d received about an impending attack against the U.S. directly to the president. Joshua trusted Pack McHenry’s intel sources, but just being at an event with the commander in chief wasn’t enough. The real obstacles were the political realities he knew all too well. He had met with presidents before. Merely being honored with a Presidential Medal of Freedom wouldn’t guarantee him private, confidential access to the most powerful man in the world. That much he knew.

And there was another matter to consider, his founding of the Roundtable itself. He had recently asked Abby to give him legal advice about any legal liability the group might have for its activities and how close they were to the edge of danger. When he did, she just gave him one of those knowing looks. She’d already done her homework even before he’d asked — typical of Abby. But when she told her husband what she’d come up with, she adopted her serious lawyer posture.

She cited the federal laws against “seditious conspiracy”: 18 United States Code Section 2384. Abby said that in the hands of a skillful, mean-spirited prosecutor, the meaning of the word “force” in that criminal law could actually be stretched to cover some of their plans to help protect the United States from foreign threats. Every member of the Roundtable, especially Joshua, could be made to look like a wealthy criminal vigilante interfering with U.S. policy — in effect, running their own shadow government. It was a real risk. It didn’t matter that they loved their country or believed the nation’s leaders were failing its citizens and imperiling its safety from enemies foreign and domestic. The point remained, in the end, that their clandestine activities could land them all in jail.

Maybe he was just being paranoid, but the facts were undeniable. Not long ago, Joshua had boldly defied a congressional subpoena in his effort to protect the proprietary design of his RTS antimissile system to keep it from falling into the wrong hands. Then there was the contempt-of-court charge brought against him by a federal judge over the same issue, forcing him to go into hiding to avoid service of federal papers. Sure, things finally worked out and the charges were dropped — thanks to Abby’s brilliant maneuvering — but he knew that some people in the White House were still trying to bring him down.

What if his inclusion in the Medal of Freedom event was just an elaborate trap, to get him close enough so the Feds could grab him on some charges he wasn’t even aware of yet? And why did they instruct him that only one family member could accompany him to the ceremony? But his anxiety over all that seemed absurd. Why would the administration bestow a medal on someone just so they could arrest him?

As the president of the United States addressed the small audience in the Rose Garden ceremony, Joshua was still wondering what had truly brought him to that place.

He found himself in a row of eight recipients, all standing behind President Virgil Corland. The president spoke from a podium embossed with the familiar presidential seal, as press cameras whirred and fluttered. They had a great shot. The sprawling trees of the White House lawn framed the event, and far off in the background stood the white obelisk of the Washington Monument. Joshua looked out and located Abigail’s warm, loving face.

Joshua had not been prepared for how haggard the president looked: tired eyes, pale, sunken skin. He realized why the administration had denied the cameras any close-ups.

When it came time for Joshua to receive his medal, Corland said it was for recognition of his “acts of bravery and civic duty in foiling a criminal plot at Grand Central Station, which not only threatened the life of his own son, Cal Jordan, but also posed a threat involving America’s national security.” Joshua thought it was strange to get a medal for that; he’d have walked through hell to save his own son. That’s just what a father does.

Most likely the president was ramping up for his reelection campaign and wanted to pander to voters who supported a strong national defense. But beyond that, Joshua got the feeling that he was there, in this glittering Rose Garden ceremony, because he was a chess piece in some kind of high-stakes political game.

When it was over, the president went down the row of medal recipients and shook hands with each of them. Joshua noticed that he took the time to converse at length with every other medalist, but when he got to Joshua, he simply gave a quick shake, silently smiled, and then moved on without saying a word.

When those on the dais dispersed, the president was quickly ushered by his staff and Secret Service detail back inside the White House. Joshua strode over to Abigail. Around his neck was the blue ribbon, and dangling from it was the white five-pointed star edged in gold and laying against the background of a red pentagonal shield.

Abigail reached out to touch the medal. Her smile was uncontainable, a gentle explosion of love, passion, and pride.

She was about to say something when her eyes darted off to something behind Joshua. Before he could turn around, Joshua felt a hand on his arm. Two square-shouldered men in suits stared at him from behind sunglasses, with tiny electronic ear buds in their ears.

“Mr. Jordan, please come with us.”

“What’s this about?” Joshua asked.

“You need to come now, Mr. Jordan …”

Abigail tried to keep things light. “I hope our Medal of Freedom winner here isn’t in some hot water,” she said with a halting attempt at a joke.

The men didn’t smile.

“I’m not just his wife,” Abigail said. “I’m also his lawyer.”

One of the men, ignoring her comment, said, blandly, “Mrs. Jordan, you need to go back to the checkin tent beyond the West Wing. Wait there for more information.”

Joshua turned to Abigail. He looked her in the eye but was staring right into her heart. “Don’t worry, Abby. I’ll be right back.”

“You’d better be,” Abigail snapped, loud enough for the two men in suits to hear.

She kept her eyes on Joshua as he walked away, sandwiched between the two federal agents, until they disappeared in the milling crowd of smiling families and glad-handing politicians.