Urgency (Part Four)

[White House].

Afternoon sunlight slanted through the thick bulletproof windows into the Oval Office, falling across its deep-blue carpet.

Tiny motes of dust hung and swirled in the light like flecks of gold.

The air carried the faint scent of oak furniture and an almost imperceptible trace of anxiety.

Knock, knock.

After two crisp knocks, someone pushed open the office's heavy wooden door.

Secretary of State Thaddeus Ross entered with the steady stride of a soldier.

He wore a well-tailored charcoal suit over a white shirt, with a dark-red tie knotted neatly at his throat.

His hawklike eyes swept casually across the room from a weathered face before settling on the figure behind the historic Resolute Desk at the center of the office.

President Matthew Ellis was bent over a stack of urgent documents, his pen scratching across the paper.

His brows were tightly drawn, and fine beads of sweat dotted his forehead. He had clearly been working for hours.

Hearing the footsteps, he did not look up at once. He quickly signed a briefing on the situation in the Middle East, set down his custom pen engraved with the presidential seal, and slowly raised his head toward Ross.

Ross was too good at reading people to wait for President Ellis to speak first. "Mr. President, you wanted to see me?"

Matthew Ellis rubbed his temples. He had done it countless times today.

Sunlight fell across his weary face, revealing the fine lines at the corners of his eyes and the faint shadows beneath them.

The president, once known for his boundless energy, looked five years older.

"Ross." President Ellis's voice was hoarse. He gestured for Ross to sit, then said with a weary sigh, "It's been one crisis after another lately—"

He leaned back. His office chair, made from