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Barack Obama and Joe Biden as action heroes?
Essentially, it delivers exactly as its retro cover (above) promises.
Credit: Penguin
Hope Never Dieswill publish on July 10.
And that wasbeforeI learned my friend was dead.
I was sitting at my computer, and Id stumbled across one of those so-called paparazzi videos.
It opened with a wide shot of Cape Towns fabled Table Mountain.
The camera panned down to the white-capped waves in the harbor.
An impossibly long speedboat entered the frame, cutting through the surf like a buttered bullet.
Unencumbered by his dead-weight loser vice president, 44 was on the vacation to end all vacations.
Windsurfing on Richard Bransons private island.
Kayaking with Justin Trudeau.
BASE jumping in Hong Kong with Bradley Cooper.
Barack wasnt simply tempting the fateshe wasdaringthem.
If he could survive eight long years as the first black US president, he could survive anything.
Not that I was worried about him.
I was done getting all worked up over Barack Obama.
I forced myself to look away from the computer.
I turned to face the dartboard on the back wall of my office.
It was an old Christmas gift from my daughter.
Maybe too much free time.
One call, I said to my faithful companion, Champ.
Is that too much to ask?
The dog glanced up with indifference.
Hed heard it all before.
Just one phone call, I said.
With a snap of the wrist, I sent the dart sailing across the room.
It hit its mark, right between Bradley Coopers piercing blue eyes.
I plucked the darts from the shredded magazine cover taped to the board.
And not even a gosh-darned postcard.
Barack even had the gall to tellPeoplemagazine that we still went golfing together on occasion.
To save face, I repeated the lie.
The truth was, there hadnt been any golf outings.
Not even a friendly poke on Facebook.
It was an exercise in futility.
If I kept picking at the wound, it was never going to heal.
In the darkness outside my office window, I glimpsed a tiny flickering light.
Only one way to find out.
Lets go, Champ.
The dogs ears perked up.
I spun the dial on the small closet safe.
There were two things inside: my Medal of Freedom .
and my SIG Sauer pistol.
The bean shooter was a gift Id bought for myself, in spite of Jills objections.
Arent your shotguns enough?
What on earth could you need a handgun for?
For times like this, Jill.
I called to my wife, Im letting Champ out.
She didnt answer back.
I could hear the TV playing in our bedroom.Law and Order.I should have been watching with her.
Instead I opened the back door.
As soon as I did, Champ raced across the lawn and tore off into the woods.
The motion light over the back porch should have kicked on, but the bulb was burnt out.
It was an old one, I guess.
Old bulbs were meant to burn out.
The moon was full enough to light up the backyard.
Our 7,000-square-foot lake house sat on four acres of property.
Late at night, it was possible to imagine you were all alone in the world.
Tonight, however, I wasnt alone.
Ahead in the woods was that pinprick of light.
And now I smelled tobacco, a familiar brand.
Dont get your hopes up, I told myself.Hope is just a four-letter word.
I crossed the yard, walking to the spot where Champ had disappeared into the trees.
An earpiece wire disappeared into his collar.
My heart was beating faster than a dog licking a dish.
My own security detail had been dismissed several weeks earlier.
Nice night for a walk, I said.
Secret Service nodded toward the woods, showing me the way.
I ducked under a low-hanging branch and kept walking.
The heavy foliage overhead diffused the moonlight.
I had to tread carefully to avoid the underbrush.
The smell of burning tobacco grew stronger.
I called for Champ.
In response, I heard flint striking metal.
A lighter, close by.
To my left, by the big oak.
A man crouched low, scratching Champ behind the ears.
German shepherds dont take to strangers, but this man was no stranger.
He rose to his feet, a slim figure in his black hand-tailored suit.
His white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the neck.
He took a long drag off his cigarette and exhaled smoke with leisure.
Barack Obama was never in a hurry.
2
I offered a handshake.
Barack turned it into a fist bump.
It was a greeting Id never been able to master, but I gave it my best shot.
Just like old times.
Thought you quit smoking, I said.
He took another long drag off his cigarette.
I wiped my brow.
It had been an unusually hot and humid summer.
In the past couple of years, Id become more sensitive to temperature extremes.
I was either too hot or too cold.
Its been a while, he said.
I asked, tracing a circle in the dirt with my foot.
Ive been laying tile in the master bath.
If Id known Jill was putting you to work, Id have dropped by sooner.
Michelle wants granite countertops, and I dont even know where to start.
Im sure Bradley Cooper could help.
You saw those pictures, huh?
Well, you know me.
Laying low was never my style.
I grunted a response.
He put out his cigarette on a tree.
Im sure Jills waiting, so Ill get right to the point.
He returned the extinguished butt to his pack of Marlboros.
Even when he was smoking, he was still a Boy Scout.
Theres been an incident I think you should know about.
Now it all made sense.
Barack wasnt here to rekindle our friendship.
He was here on business.
An incident, I repeated.
Does the name Finn Donnelly ring any bells?
Of course it did.
Anybody who rode the Wilmington to DC line knew Finn Donnelly.
Hes an Amtrak conductor, I said.
The finest one I know.
He was hit by a train this morning.
Im sorry, Joe.
The news struck me in the chest like an open-field tackle.
I tried to speak, but the words caught in my throat.
Barack said something else, but Id stopped hearing him.
There was a time Id seen Finn every day.
Back when I was commuting to and from the Senate.
Wed traveled thousands of miles together.
After I became vice president, riding Amtrak was too challengingtoo many Secret Service agents and security protocols.
Id only seen Finn once since the election, in passing.
Barack put a hand on shoulder, steadying me.
I had a hunch you knew him.
I wanted to tell you myself, before you heard from somewhere else.
He told me everything the Wilmington PD had learned about the accident.
While rounding a corner on the way out of town, the engineer spotted somebody lying on the tracks.
At the speed the train was going, there was no safe way to avoid a collision.
Why didnt he move?
Could be he suffered a heart attack, or some other medical emergency.
The state medical examiner couldnt tell, based on the condition of the body.
Theyre running some blood samples.
Its going to take time before we know more.
Id known Finn better than most of my fellow committee members on Capitol Hill.
I knew his favorite singer was Michael Jacksoneven after all the hoopla, Finn stuck by his man.
I knew he was a Patriots fanthrough all the hoopla with them as well.
I also knew Finn had a wife, and a little girl, Grace.
His girl wasnt so little now.
She was probably just starting college.
And now her father was dead.
The police found something, Barack said, holding out a piece of paper.
The cold steel in my waistband sent a shiver up my spine.
The house I shared with my wife was identified by a little dot in the center of the page.
Where did they find this?
He had a desk on the train.
Wilmington PD thought maybe the guy was stalking you.
They reached out to Secret Service, who explained you were not their problem anymore.
Not their problem, I said with a chortle.
In about as many words.
So, what, they fob it off on the FBI?
And the FBI said it sounded like a Secret Service problem.
They thought I might have your number, I guess.
I said Id let you know myself, to see what you wanted to do.
That was the world we lived in now.
Nobody wanted to take responsibility for anything anymore.
Not even inside the highest levels of government.
Especiallyinside the highest levels of government.
You could have called.
It was a nice night for a drive.
You also could have rung the doorbell.
I was thinking about it, he said.
Well, let us know youre coming next time, and well have a cold beer waiting.
I refolded the map and tried to give it back.
I glanced back at the master bedroom window, where the TV was flickering.
The thought that Finn would ever stalk me was beyond ludicrous.
Is there any indication Finn was part of .
Barack shook his head.
Not ISIL, if thats what youre asking.
The Service ran him through all the databases.
Not a single red flag.
No recent weapons purchases.
Are there any reporters on this thing?
The rest of the storyno.
The police are sitting on the case until they hear from Steve.
You passed him at the edge of the woods.
Secret Service, I said.
He gets the job done.
Champ trotted to my side.
I scratched him behind the ears.
Who else knows about the map?
Theres a lieutenant working as the point person.
Her detectives have started legwork on the case already.
Plus two or three guys in the Service know.
Too many people to make this thing disappear, if thats what youre thinking.
That is what I had been thinking, and Barack could see it on my face.
What about his family?
Theyre planning the funeral.
Weve left them in the dark about everything.
Lets keep it that way, at least for now, I said.
Im not asking for a cover-up.
Just a little discretion.
They dont need this.
Let them make their peace first.
At least until after the funeral.
You should look into getting some private security.
I just walked right up to your house.
Your backyard motion light was out, too.
He tossed a lightbulb to me.
You really ought to replace this with a compact fluorescent or an LED.
They cost more up front but pay for themselves after just a few years.
Thanks, I said.
I turned back to my house, then paused.
The old bulb was, of course, from the motion light on the back porch.
Of that much I was sure.
However, the socket was more than twelve feet above the porch.
You couldnt reach it without a ladder.
Wait, how did you .
I glanced over my shoulder, but no one was there.
