He walked out the doors of the White House West Wing.
The Washington sun was blinding, and Murphy instinctively raised a hand to shield his eyes.
He felt as if he had just surfaced from a deep-sea dive. His ears were still ringing, his brain was starved for oxygen, and he was unsteady on his feet.
He glanced back at the white building.
Just moments ago, he and Leo Wallace had pulled off an act of political blackmail, right in front of the White House Chief of Staff.
And they had succeeded.
The image of Sterling's ashen face and his final, hissed words, "We will reassess the situation," were still seared into his mind.
'This feels like some kind of absurd dream.'
"Leo."
Murphy's voice traveled over the phone to Pittsburgh.
"Did we... really do it?" Murphy's voice was faint, almost adrift.
"We did."
There wasn't a trace of excitement in Leo's voice.
"They're scared."
