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of uniform.”
    He tried to smile. “They don’t like ’em where I work.”
    â€œThe White House, right? My roommate was so impressed.”
    Strolling around a huge lawn where the students were tossing Frisbees or lying together on blankets, she told him about her courses. She didn’t have to decide till sophomore year, but thought she’d try for a bachelor’s in life sciences and maybe a master’s in molecular medicine.
    â€œHoly smoke,” he said. “Molecular medicine?”
    â€œI know, but they’ve got a world-class biotechnology program.” She wanted to take economics and Japanese too. She was already on the tennis team. Did he want to play a game? He said he was out of practice, hadn’t brought his racket. Instead he proposed a snack at a café overlooking the campus. “So, what’s new with your mom?”
    â€œShe’s the dean now. She does yoga these days. Says it helps with the stress.”
    â€œI can imagine. How’s Ted?”
    â€œOh, the same. How’s Blair?”
    â€œShe’s good. Really busy, but we’ll take you out to dinner. The Four Seasons, maybe.”
    â€œSo who’s more important, her or you?”
    He had to grin. “She swings a lot more weight in this town than a Navy commander.”
    â€œYou know, I met a guy from the Navy once. In an airport. I asked him if he knew you. He said everybody did. You were a … what did he call you … a warfighter. Like, you’d really done stuff. Dangerous stuff.”
    â€œMost people don’t have that positive an opinion.”
    â€œHe said you got the Medal of Honor. You never told me that.”
    He looked away. “It’s not something you make a big deal about, Punkin.”
    She frowned. “Why not?”
    â€œBecause the guys who really deserved it didn’t make it out.”
    â€œDidn’t make it out of where?”
    â€œThe Middle East. Actually Iraq.”
    â€œAnd, what—you don’t deserve it, because these other guys got killed?”
    He remembered a man’s head on fire, and closed his eyes. “Right.”
    She reached across the table for his hand. “Oh, Dad … I know I was a brat sometimes growing up. I was mad at you for not being around. Hearing stuff from Mom didn’t help. You know, what an asshole you were. But you know what? I never quit loving you. And I’m proud of you, for not drinking anymore, and I like Blair, and … anyway, thanks. For not giving up. On me, or anything else.”
    â€œYour mom’s a good person, Punkin. We just couldn’t get along.”
    â€œWant to know a secret? That’s why I picked this school. To be near you.”
    â€œAre you serious?” he said. “That’s great. That’s really great.”
    â€œI thought we could do something together. Go sailing or something … I’ve never been on a boat.”
    â€œI know a guy in Annapolis who runs charters. Pick a weekend.”
    â€œOh, look! There’re my friends. Over here!”
    She immediately began telling them about the boat trip, inviting them along. This was disappointing. He’d conjured a picture of the two of them sharing memories and dreams out on the bay. But he put it aside. Just being in her life again was great.
    Just then something like a trapped roach buzzed against his flank. He flinched before he remembered. He’d set the pager on vibrate. The White House number, but he didn’t recognize the extension. He excused himself and found a pay phone.
    â€œSit Room,” a voice said. Female. Businesslike.
    â€œLenson from counterdrug, returning a page.”
    â€œLenson? Jennifer Roald. I understand you’re the go-to guy on Tomahawk targeting.”
    Captain Jennifer Roald was the director of the Situation Room. Dan said, “I’ve done some in the past, ma’am. It’s not my current