Chapter 15 - The Mother’s Desperate Gamble
The dawn broke over Travis Air Force Base in shades of dull iron and bruised purple.
A sleek, black limousine with diplomatic plates pulled up to the outer security gate. The driver rolled down the window, presenting a VIP pass that bore the official seal of the California State Legislature.
Inside the passenger compartment, Margaret Montgomery had rebuilt her armor. Her face was powdered pale to hide the hollow bags beneath her eyes, her lips painted a severe, blood-red crimson. She was wrapped in a black cashmere coat, her back straight, her hands trembling imperceptibly inside leather gloves.
She had three hours before the news cycle completely consumed her. The stock market opened at nine-thirty. If she couldn't produce a photo with Claire—if she couldn't stage a weeping, mother-daughter reconciliation on the White House lawn—the board would strip her of everything, and the Department of Justice would execute the arrest warrant.
"Ma'am, the guards are checking the manifest," her private security chief muttered from the front seat. "General Sterling has this facility on high-security lockdown. If they realize you're here—"
"They will let me through," Margaret snapped, her tone icy. "I am a member of the Congressional Defense Advisory Committee until I am officially removed. They do not have the authority to bar a mother from seeing her daughter."
The gate swung open. The guards, clearly conflicted by the high-level security clearance flashing on their monitors, waved the limousine through toward the executive VIP quarters.
Two minutes later, the limousine came to an abrupt stop in front of the base's transient officer quarters.
Margaret stepped out into the crisp, cold morning air. She didn't flinch at the armed MPs stationed along the perimeter. She walked with rapid, aggressive strides up the concrete steps, pushed past an unsuspecting young lieutenant at the desk, and marched down the hallway until she found the door labeled: **CAPT. C. MONTGOMERY.**
She didn't knock. She twisted the brass knob and slammed the door open.
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"Claire!" Margaret declared, her voice ringing with fabricated maternal authority. "We are leaving. Right now."
***
