Chapter 1883 - 1403: Anxiety in the Oval Office (Part 4)

"So what is your suggestion?"

She asked, even though she'd already guessed the answer.

"We need to stop the loss. Now."

Outside the window, the last sliver of sunset sank into the ridge, the sky shifted from deep purple to indigo.

On the driveway of the manor, car lights formed a string like a necklace of pearls, winding up to the main entrance.

"Horizon announced they obtained the documents from an 'anonymous source.'

Obama said, "But the Central Intelligence Agency's analysis suggests that the format, encryption method, and metadata characteristics of these documents align closely with parts of the files leaked by Duke. And all clues—I'm saying all—point in one direction, and that is 'Song Heping.'

Hillary's breath halted for a moment.

The name disgusted him.

"So, are you going to negotiate with him? The question is, where is he? Can you reach him?" she asked.

"That's the issue. We don't know. But he has provided the terms of the deal."

For the next three minutes, Hillary said almost nothing.

She listened to Obama outline the whole event, hearing the details she was never informed about, realizing a crisis far larger than she had imagined was unfolding.

Obama repeated the three conditions set by Song Heping one by one.

As an exchange, he would return all the materials not yet made public but retain copies.

Hillary felt a wave of dizziness.

She clutched the window sill, the cold touch of the stone seeped through her palm.

"This is impossible!" she finally said, "Once you set this precedent—"

"I know," Obama interrupted her, "But if Horizon releases a second round of documents tonight, especially if they hold details of our operations in other regions, including footage of the Delta Soldiers and agents currently under shelling at the base... Rodham, how do you think voters in Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Florida would react?"

He paused, letting her digest those words.

"Your lead will evaporate within seventy-two hours. More than that, the entire party will be implicated. Six critical seats in the Senate, twenty-three swing districts in the House of Representatives, we'll lose, and what we'll lose won't just be the White House, but the political landscape for the next decade."

Faint piano sounds came from downstairs, the dinner party had already started to warm up.

Chopin's nocturne, Bill's favorite piece.

Hillary imagined her husband mingling among the guests, that familiar, charming smile on his face, shaking hands with bankers, kissing ladies' hands, as if nothing in the world was worth worrying about.

"So you want me."

She slowly said, each word felt as if it was being forcibly excavated from her throat, "To bow down to a mercenary leader!? Don't you think this is absurd?!"

There was silence on the other end of the phone for a full ten seconds.

"I want you..."

Obama finally said, "To make the choice that a political leader sometimes has to make: to choose the less terrible option among two bad ones."

Hillary looked into the mirror.

The makeup was flawless, the gown shining on the hanger, the pearl necklace glowed with a warm luster.

The woman in the mirror seemed unbreakable, ready at any moment to walk onto the stage, to receive applause and donations, to deliver speeches about the future of the United States, about justice, about values.

Yet the voice on the phone was asking her to betray every promise in those speeches.

"I need to consider." she said.

"You don't have time!" Obama's voice suddenly sharpened, "Horizon releases the second round of documents at seven tonight. It's now five twenty-six. I've already instructed the Attorney General to prepare a draft pardon document; it just needs your consent as the endorsement of the former Secretary of State. Legal advisors believe this will enhance procedural legitimacy."

"You are forcing me."

"Oh! For God's sake! I'm asking you to save the cause we both believe in." Obama paused, took a deep breath, and said, "Remember the 2008 primaries? We competed till the very last moment, but in the end, you chose unity, you ceded to me. Because you knew there are things more important than personal ambition."

Hillary closed her eyes.

It was one of the most painful moments of her political career.

On the day of the concession speech, she wore an orange coat, stood on stage, and looked at the crying supporters below, those volunteers who knocked on countless doors, made countless calls for her.

And now, another ceiling.

Or perhaps a floor, now cracking beneath her feet.