Phillipa removed her coat and kept her phone in her front right pocket. Her jacket was about to go through the scanner. She started planning escape options if her coat entered the machine and its interior pockets were detected. She was beckoned forward.
The alarm above her went off.
“Ma’am, is there anything in your pocket?”
Phillipa reached into her pockets and pulled out her cell phone.
“Ma’am, everything must be scanned. Please put it on the conveyor belt and come back through the scanner.”
Phillipa walked over, picked up a round dish and placed her cell phone inside. She then walked through the metal detector with nothing going off.
She turned to the guard and said, “I’m so sorry about that. I totally forgot.”
“It happens a lot.” The guard glanced at her and said, “Enjoy the concert.”
She collected her coat, purse and phone and proceeded onto the grounds of the Capitol Building. The lights and music beckoned ahead.
“Let Denzili and Richardson know that we have infiltrated the security system,” Hennigan said. “Have them meet me at the James Garfield Monument in thirty minutes. Also, patch me into the police chatter. I want to hear what’s going on here.”
“Honey, come back to bed.” Through her earpiece, Dr. Hennigan caught a distant voice in Ms. Wilson’s background.
“Huh?”
“I’m running an op,” Ms. Wilson replied. “I’ll be back when this is over. It could be a while.”
Then it hit Hennigan. “Was that…?”
“Yes,” Ms. Wilson responded. “Ms. Brighton and I are giving it another go around. Maybe she’ll even coax me outside for a picnic.”
“Are you sure you won’t burst into flames?” Hennigan joked.
“Despite the rumors—some of them I know you’ve started—I’m not a vampire.” Hennigan could hear the door slide shut on Ms. Wilson’s side. “Ms. Brighton and I had a strenuous workout.”
“That’s what the kids are calling it these days?”
“Phillipa! We were training,” Ms. Wilson replied defensively.
Hennigan wanted to laugh and could almost see the horror on Ms. Wilson’s face in her mind, so she stopped herself. Even she knew better than to test Ms. Hennigan’s patience and generous spirit.
“Well, that’s peculiar.”
“What is?” Hennigan asked.
“I’m not the only one piggybacking around in their security system. They’re being actively hacked.”
“Can you stop whoever it is?”
“Do you even need to ask?”
Hennigan made her way to the James A. Garfield Monument. She looked up at the President, who had lasted only four months before being gunned down by Charles J. Guiteau. The statesman stood up top looking completely grandiose. Three men clad in what looked like Greek togas allegedly represented the three parts of Garfield’s life—student, warrior and statesman. None of the three allegorical figures spread around the base looked like Garfield. They seemed more like a gay man’s fantasy at a frat party, all half-dressed and perfectly sculpted physiques.
“They’re out,” Ms. Wilson said. “I closed the backdoor. I’ll continue monitoring, but they shouldn’t be able to regain access. If they attempt to, I’ll receive a security alert.”
“I should let Agent Murphy know,” Hennigan said. “Patch me through to her communications channel.”
“Finding her signal.”
Suddenly, she heard Murphy say, “Whoever arrested the lead singer for Midnight Riot for smoking pot in his trailer, please know I will find you and make your life miserable. And that’s not from me, that’s from the White House Chief of Staff. Apparently, Midnight Riot was invited tonight by the President.”
