“As strange as it is,” Ms. Brighton said, ignoring the standard protocol for these interactions, “we all know of cases where people survive being shot multiple times, even when they shouldn’t. I could list the documented cases from the medical literature, but that wouldn’t get us any closer to dealing with the more urgent problem.”
“Which is?” Sara said, turning her focus on Ms. Brighton.
“What does she want? And more important, what will she do now? Her ruse is up, and her husband is dead. I think she’s more dangerous now than ever.”
“I share the same fear,” Sara said, placing her tea on the table. “Threat assessment?” This time, Sarah turned to Ms. Wilson.
“We’ve already put all our facilities on high alert. However, we don’t think she has more than eight to ten radicalized followers now.”
“On what intelligence is this based?” Deborah asked.
“Dr. Hennigan and Ms. Brighton interviewed the three remaining infiltrators to gain any actionable information.”
“And?” Sara asked, turning her attention back to her granddaughter.
“Well, we raided the three other compounds we found out about this morning at six a.m. They were all empty. One was just southeast of Beaumont, TX, on the highway to Louisiana. That one looked like it had been the staging area for the assault yesterday. We suspect Lizzy Cleburne fled there after Pennington. From there, she has easy access to most of the South. Depending on her means, she could have access to almost anywhere in the world.”
“Do we think she’s still in the US?” Sara asked.
“We cannot be sure, but she seems set on vengeance, so the odds are pretty good that she’s in the US and preparing for what she’ll do next.”
“What do you think she’ll do?” Sara asked, staring Ms. Wilson down.
“I do not know, ma’am. We’ve run several scenarios, and the probability of each is unfortunately similar.”
“Cleo Barnes,” Dr. Hennigan said. “She’ll go after Cleo Barnes.” Dr. Hennigan paused until everyone was focused on her. “Cleo was the operative tasked with liquidating her. She seems the most likely target.”
“Or her husband,” Sara replied. “Killing the President would definitely put a fissure between our organization and the federal government at a time when watchdogs are on the hunt.”
“True,” Deborah chimed in. “If someone wanted to harm The Foundation, attacking the President and implicating us would do it.”
“Until we get more actionable intelligence, I want all of you to pursue this line of inquiry,” Sarah said, tapping the marble tabletop with one of her white French-manicured nails. “And, Phillipa?”
“Yes, Grandmother?”
“I think it’s time for you and your team to take a trip to Washington, DC.”
* * * *
Blayne
The following day Blayne dragged himself out of bed. Ethan had risen earlier and gone for a run. It was something he enjoyed doing whenever he needed to think or just burn off excess energy. Although both men ran, they rarely did it together. When Ethan returned to the apartment, Blayne had just gotten out of the shower and was making coffee.
“How was your run?” Blayne asked as Ethan came in.
“It was a fun game of dodge the paparazzi,” he said. “Heads up. There are a few photogs camped across the street. I just smiled and waved. There was no point in pretending. One tried to follow me, but I went down an alley and lost him.”
“Ugh. Not this game again,” Blayne groused. He’d had enough paparazzi the previous month when he’d pretended to be Ethan to throw off their scent for the day.
“For their sake, I hope not. I seriously doubt our friends at The Foundation would let them, anyway.” Ethan walked over and kissed Blayne on the cheek. “I need to run through the shower. The band will meet up at some point today. I already have texts from my publicist. And, of course, I’m avoiding messages from Lucas.”
“Don’t forget, we have therapy with Dr. Secada this morning.”
“Ah shit, I totally forgot about that,” Ethan admitted. “How dead would we be if we tried to cancel?”
“After yesterday? I would run to The Foundation to hide from Dr. Secada,” Blayne joked. “Besides, we probably need to talk through some things.”
“You make it sound so ominous,” Ethan said as he pulled a mug from the cabinet and poured himself a cup.
