My Gal Sunday by Mary Higgins Clark Page A

The normally boisterous press room was unnaturally quiet. The eyes of the people gathered there reflected their sympathy.
    Looking at him compassionately, Jack Collins mused that if there was one single thought that everyone in the room must be sharing, it was that Henry Parker Britland IV might be one of the nicest, smartest, wealthiest, most charismatic men in the universe, but that everything would be meaningless to him if he lost Sunday.
    “I never saw a guy as crazy about his wife,” Collins overheard a young White House aide whisper to a young woman at his side. You’re so right, Jack thought, so very right. God help him get through this.
    President Ogilvey had joined Henry. “Let’s go into the Cabinet Room,” he said, taking the younger man by the arm.
    Impatiently, Henry brushed the last trace of moisture from his eyes. I have to get hold of myself, he thought. I need to concentrate, use my head to get Sunday back. If I don’t, I’ll have the rest of my life to mourn.
    In the Cabinet Room, they sat around the long table as he and Des had done on numerous occasions during his eight years in office. The entire cabinet had joined them now, along with the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the FBI and CIA directors.
    President Ogilvey deferred to Henry: “We all know why we are here, Henry. You take over.”
    “Thank you all for coming,” Henry said briskly. “Please realize that I understand your feelings as I know you understand mine. Now to the plan of action. I want to say how touched I am that the president has agreed to exchange Jovunet for my wife, and I also understand that we have to make sure that immediately after we get her back we recapture Jovunet. This government cannot be put in the position of caving in to terrorists and hostage situations.”
    An aide tiptoed unobtrusively into the conference room and whispered in the president’s ear. Ogilvey raised his eyes. “Henry, the British prime minister is on the phone. He has expressed his deep regrets and offers any kind of assistance that we feel he could render.”
    Henry nodded. For a moment his mind flashed back to when he and Sunday were in London. They had stayed at Claridge’s. The queen had invited them to a dinner at Windsor Castle. He had been so proud of Sunday. She was the most charming, the most beautiful woman there. They had been so happy . . .
    Henry realized with a start that Des was still speaking to him. “ Henry, Her Majesty wants to speak to you personally. The prime minister tells us she is deeply concerned. She told him that what they need in her family is a girl just like Sunday.”
    Henry took the phone that was offered to him, and a moment later he heard the familiar voice of the sovereign of Great Britain.
    “Your Majesty . . .” he began.
    Another aide was whispering to President Ogilvey. “Sir, we’ve promised that you would return the calls of the presidents of Egypt and Syria. Both insist that they are unaware of any terrorist organizations within their countries that had anything to do with the kidnapping, and both offer the use of their most elite special task forces in assisting with the congresswoman’s safe recovery. Even Saddam Hussein has called to express his outrage and assure us that he knows nothing of who might be behind this incident. He has even promised that if Jovunet is landed in Iraq and Sunday is not safely surrendered, then he will personally see the man beheaded on the spot.
    “We’ve had calls from many other heads of state, sir,” the aide continued. “President Rafsanjani even called to say that despite what conclusions anyone might jump to because of what Jovunet said about ’leaving off the caviar,’ Iran is in no way involved in this disgraceful episode. So far, Jovunet appears to be a man without a country. Whoever is behind this whole affair has yet to come forward and indicate a willingness to play host to him.”
    Ogilvey glanced at Henry. They had to get on with