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In the United States, on a quiet residential street in the suburbs, a black sedan cruised slowly through the neighborhood. Trailing behind it was an SUV of the same color, following in synchronized motion. The sedan rolled to a stop at its destination, and a door opened. Security guards emerged first, their eyes like ice as they swept the area, alert for any threat.
“Safety confirmed, Mr. President.”
The words had barely been spoken when the President of the United States and Adam White, director of the Federal Bureau of Hunters, stepped out of the vehicle with stern faces. The guards exchanged silent hand signals and closed ranks protectively around the two men. The president waved them off.
“It’s fine. You can wait out here, men.”
“But sir—”
“She doesn’t care for all the commotion.”
His eyes shifted toward the small red-roofed house before him. It looked no different from the other homes nearby, yet it was a very special place behind its ordinary exterior. Even the most powerful man in the United States had to come in person to have an audience with the person who lived inside. The door opened before he could knock.
“Long time no see, Dave.”
A tall, African-American young man stood there. Recognizing him, the president blinked in surprise.
“You’ve... grown. The last time we met, you came up to my waist,” he said.
“Your mustache has grown more than I have,” replied the young man. “When did you grow up so much? You’re the president now, of all things!”
“You rascal…”
The president grinned.
The young...
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