CHAPTER TWENTY
“How do you want us to handle this?” asked Saint staring at the screen. Ham, Jak, and Gator all shook their heads.
“You’re certain it came from the office of the Vice President?” asked Ham.
“As certain as I can be,” said Hayes. “It doesn’t mean that he sent it, but it damn sure came from his office. How do you want us to handle this? Should we request a meeting with him?”
“Let us reach out to the POTUS,” said Gator. “We might want to meet with him first just to be sure he doesn’t know something that we don’t.”
“We’ll wait to hear from you,” nodded Hayes and Saint. The two men were seated on a bench along the mall, just watching as mid-day joggers passed by, dog walkers not cleaning up after their dogs, and hundreds of school children on field trips ran and screamed, enjoying the spring weather.
The cherry blossoms were in full bloom, the trees alive with color and fragrance.
The Washington, D.C. cherry blossoms are a celebrated spring tradition, not just for D.C., but also for the country. It features thousands of Japanese cherry trees—primarily Yoshino and Kwanzan—that bloom around the Tidal Basin and National Mall.
Peak bloom happens where seventy percent of flowers are open, usually occurring in the spring, around late March to early April. The event draws over one and a half million visitors for the annual National Cherry Blossom Festival.
The best views are from the Tidal Basin, around the Jefferson and Martin Luther King Memorials. Although the men weren’t exactly in the best spot to view them, they were damn close.
The trees were a gift of friendship from Tokyo to the U.S.
in 1912. Although the bloom usually only lasts one or two weeks, depending on weather conditions, it’s a sight that people want to see over and over again.
The festival around the blooming draws in people competing in the Kite Festival, cultural performances, and even fireworks.
All for a bloom that only lasts two weeks.
The ping of their phones drew them out of their springtime bliss. Both men stared at the response and nodded. Hayes nodded at Saint.
“I guess we’re visiting the White House today.”
There was no sense in moving their vehicle. Parking was an elite commodity in D.C. and it was a relatively short walk to the White House. Most people would change into suits and ties to visit the POTUS. But Saint and Hayes weren’t most people.
They showed their ID at the gate and the guard let them pass, only to be met by a Secret Service Agent.
“Afternoon, gentlemen,” he said. “May I see your ID’s again?”
They gladly showed him their ID’s, respecting the need for additional security. He nodded at the men, turning and walking toward a door at the bottom of the house. The men followed, understanding the gesture without words.
It wasn’t their first time and it most likely wouldn’t be their last. Seated outside the oval office, the two men nodded their thanks at the agent as he left them for the next round of ID checks.
After another twenty minutes of people stopping to ask who they were, the door finally opened and they stepped inside.
“Mr. President,” said Saint.
“Gentlemen, please have a seat,” he said pointing to the two sofas facing one another. “I’m familiar with your fathers and their fathers.”
“Yes, sir,” said Hayes. He didn’t need to know that he was adopted. Hawk was his father. End of story.
“So, I heard about the woman from the Bureau of Land Management,” he frowned.
“Margaret,” said Saint. “Her name was Margaret.”
“Yes. Yes, Margaret,” he nodded again as if he knew her name. He probably didn’t. What did it matter to him? “It’s a terrible accident for sure.”
“Sir, it wasn’t an accident. Someone ran that woman over intentionally just because she spoke to us,” said Hayes.
“That’s interesting,” he frowned. “What was she speaking to you all about? She doesn’t have anything interesting to tell you in the security world.”
Saint and Hayes both felt the hairs on the back of their necks go up.
“As you know, Robicheaux Oil and Gas is a big part of our businesses. We just had some basic questions about drilling,” said Hayes. Saint wanted to give him a high-five for thinking so quickly.
“Oh,” said the President with an audible sigh. “Of course! That makes perfect sense.”
“Yes. She was very helpful making sure we understood that we needed to go through multiple layers. Our chief engineer has been out and he usually takes care of these things. We’re just filling in for him,” said Hayes.
“Sure, sure,” nodded the POTUS. “Someone thought you all were involved in an incident in Nebraska.”
“Nebraska?” asked Saint with a tilt of his head. “Oh, you mean the investigation of the farm that’s been vandalized.”
The POTUS stared at the two men, looking from one to the other. He wasn’t very good at reading faces but Hayes and Saint were experts. He was nervous and that told them everything they needed to know.
“Vandalized? Well, that’s a shame. We need our farmers. Good, solid people they are. Let us know how we can help,” he said standing. He was effectively dismissing the two men.
“I think we’re good,” smiled Hayes. “Was there something else you needed from us, sir?”
“Yes,” he said thoughtfully. “I know you boys like to help out where and when you can but with this woman, Margaret, just let our team handle it. We’ll find out what really happened.”
“Of course,” nodded Saint. “Nice to see you, sir.”
“Yes, yes, nice to see both of you.”
They left the oval office, escorted out by the same agent who’d brought them in. He nodded at them as they reached the gate and they walked back toward the mall.
Neither man said a word. They didn’t even sign to one another. In D.C., everything was being recorded. Audio, video, all of it.
They wouldn’t be safe until they were on their own plane headed home.