Washington, D. C., Monday…

Pierce was somewhat apprehensive about the meeting with the President that Monday morning. John Fulton had flown back from Camp David late Sunday evening. Pierce had simply told him there was a domestic crisis that was being taken care of and that he would get a full briefing the next morning.

Fulton thought it was another terrorist attack. He was tired of them, yet couldn't help thinking there was irony in that. The country was getting used to them after a half century. It was just part of everyday life now, like talks of secession, militias, and riots.

The country seemed to be coming apart at the seams and Fulton seemed powerless to do anything about it. Maybe Stephanie was right. Maybe a strong hand was needed. Well, she would certainly provide it when she became President. If she became President. He wished her well, for the campaign, and in her Presidency. It really was her turn.

He was already at work at his desk when Pierce came in. The younger man sat down in the chair facing the President's desk.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news and some good news, sir," he began.

"Well, let's have it. Start with the bad first. Let me guess: ten killed by a suicide bomber in some shopping mall. Or is it an amusement park this time?"

"Well, I wish it were actually that simple." Pierce cleared his throat. "First, I'd like to say, I take full responsibility. All this happened on my watch, and I should have known what was going on. I have two excuses. The recent scandal took up some of my time. Also, it all started over twenty years ago."