“This is so fucked up,” Blayne said.
“We’ll get through this…together,” Ethan said as he wrapped his arm around Blayne’s hips.
Ethan’s phone started buzzing. He pulled it out and saw it was from a two-o-two area code. “Does anyone know where the two-o-two area code is located?” Ethan asked.
“It’s Washington, DC,” Murphy said, her eyes taking on a serious look. “Answer it but put it on speaker.”
Ethan did as he’d been told. “Hello?” he said, stretching out the word into a question.
“Please hold for the White House,” a voice said.
A second later, a click came, and someone said, “Is this Ethan Bond?”
“Yes,” Ethan said hesitantly.
“Hi, this Sepi Amin, the White House Chief of Staff. We’ve been trying to call both you and Mr. Blayne Dickenson. Do you know how we can get ahold of Mr. Dickenson?”
“He’s here, beside me. You’re on speakerphone.”
“Perfect. Good afternoon, Mr. Bond and Mr. Dickenson. The President would like to award you both the Presidential Citizens Medal for your heroic action yesterday and last month. We are aware of the sacrifices you have made for our country. This award is a small token of the President’s and your country’s thanks. We’d like to get you to Washington, DC, for a ceremony in the Rose Garden.”
“Uh-huh,” was all Blayne got out of his mouth. Ethan looked at Blayne, who clearly didn’t know what to think. Thankfully, Agent Murphy stepped in.
“Sepi, it’s Special Agent Sarah Murphy. I’m with Blayne and Ethan right now. They’re a little taken aback by the President’s generous offer. Can we call you back later?”
“Hello, Agent Murphy. You sure seem to be everywhere these days,” Sepi Amin replied. “That would be fine. Please have someone from Mr. Bond’s and Mr. Dickenson’s teams contact the First Lady’s office to make the arrangements.”
With that, Murphy motioned for Ethan to hang up the phone.
“Well,” Ethan said, “that just happened.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Blayne
It had been a while since Blayne had been on a plane, and he’d never flown first class. The Peregrine Airline crew had been top-notch. The flying time had been just over three hours. Besides having large, overstuffed chairs on the plane, the experience hadn’t changed radically. He’d always imagined life in first class was a mysterious affair. Still, he honestly questioned whether the cost was worth it. The same drinks that were served in economy class were also served in first class. Since it was a short-haul flight by aviation standards, their snack choices resembled anything they could have picked up for a couple of bucks at one of the airport convenience stores.
The real first-class experience for Blayne was the handling of the band by the airline. From the moment they’d arrived at the airport, the band was swiftly ushered through back corridors to bypass the traditional boarding process. There was even a special TSA gate that celebrities and dignitaries went through. Blayne questioned whether the aim was to expedite their progression through the airport or to prevent them from obstructing the regular flow of other airline passengers.
“Have you ever been to DC?” Ethan asked.
Blayne had chosen a window seat and kept pointing out monuments from the air as they landed at Reagan International Airport. “I went on a field trip in middle school, but that trip was crazy fast. It was all about getting on a bus, getting off a bus, seeing a monument for two minutes, taking a picture and getting back on the bus. The only part I remember was meeting my congresswoman. She led us on the tour of the Capitol Building. She showed up for the photo-op, and one of her staffers led the tour. What about you?”
“My parents brought me when I was a kid, and we’ve been through here a few times over the years. But honestly, I haven’t played tourist here since I was a youngster. If my parents didn’t have a picture of me standing before the Lincoln Memorial, I wouldn’t even know I’d been here.”
“Speaking of memorials,” Blayne said, “I can see the Washington Monument.” Blayne stared at the white obelisk.
“Do you know it was almost not finished?” Ethan asked. Blayne gave him a questioning look. “It’s true. The short and not nearly sordid version of the story is that construction started in the mid-1800s, and when it was something like one hundred and fifty feet tall, they ran out of money. The whole thing had been started from donations. When those ran dry, construction stopped. Then there was the Civil War, so nothing happened then. When they finally got funded again, they couldn’t find the same marble, so the top part is a different color.”
“And why do you know that?”
“I know things,” Ethan said. Blayne cocked his head to the side, questioning Ethan. “I watched a documentary one night when I couldn’t sleep.”
The first bounce of the back wheels hitting the tarmac jolted them out of their conversation. The pilot hit the brakes hard and fast. Soon the plane was veering off the runway and taxiing toward their gate. The aircraft was parked in just a few minutes, and the group exited the plane.
A Peregrine representative met the group with a big smile as they hit the top of the jetway. “Welcome to Reagan International. If you’ll follow me,” the woman said. She turned and headed for a security door. Within a few seconds, the group was once again navigating through back passages. They were led out into a small car park area where three SUVs were lined up and ready to whisk the group away to their hotel.
The team had hired local drivers for their stay, hence, introductions were made before Blayne, Ethan, Hightower and Rawlins climbed into the back of an SUV. The men didn’t talk as much as they hovered over their respective smartphones and conducted business as they left the area.
