“Room service,” a voice said.
Ethan approached the door and looked through the peephole. Someone standing in a Waldorf Astoria uniform with a cart topped with covered dishes waited on the other side of the door, so he opened it.
“Hello, Ethan,” the woman said as she pushed the cart into the room.
“Richardson!” Immediately, two other women followed her into the suite.
“Nice digs,” Denzili commented as she closed the door behind them.
“Sorry to intrude like this,” Dr. Hennigan apologized, “but such is the nature of our lives.”
“What are you doing here?” Blayne asked, entering the living area from the bedroom.
“Is that any way to greet an old friend?” Dr. Hennigan asked. Blayne stood there silently. “I’m joking. We have received intelligence about a credible threat against the White House. We’ve tried going through our usual channels but haven’t been able to get through to anyone. And by happenstance, you’re going to be there tomorrow.”
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Ethan complained. “Can’t we just have a nice day at the White House with no credible threats?”
“Yeah, we’re over the whole ‘credible threat’ thing. It’s beginning to feel like our lives are a credible threat,” Blayne added.
“I take it this means you know about the threats against your lives?” Hennigan asked.
“Yep,” Ethan replied. “And we haven’t been able to sneeze without security immediately handing us a tissue.”
“I’m actually surprised you got in here,” Blayne admitted. “How did you get in here?”
“We paid the porter to let us deliver your meal. It wasn’t that difficult,” Richardson explained. “You two should be more careful about who you open your door for.”
“That’s good advice,” Ethan said. “So, what is this threat?”
“We don’t know,” Dr. Hennigan admitted. “We just need you to let Cleo Barnes know something is happening. And, more importantly, we need you to give her my cell phone number and ask her—no, tell her—she needs to check in.”
“And why would we do that?” Ethan asked.
“Because we’re asking you nicely,” Denzili said. “And you know we don’t always do that.”
“Denzili!” Dr. Hennigan chastised, throwing the woman a side glance. “We’re afraid that Cleo Barnes, or her husband, is being targeted by the same woman who is targeting you.”
“Why?” Blayne asked. “I mean besides the obvious, them being the President and First Lady and all.”
“As you already know, Laura Lee Jackson, originally known as Elizabeth Cleburne, was liquidated. Somehow, she survived. The operative who performed the liquidation was Cleo Barnes.”
“Holy fuck!” Blayne said.
“As you can see,” Dr. Hennigan said, “our interests, your interests and the interests of the United States all align right now, which is why we need you to get a message to Cleo Barnes.”
“Just as long as there are no earpieces this time,” Blayne said. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t take all the chatter last time.”
“This is very simple and straightforward.” Dr. Hennigan walked over to the desk in the room’s corner. She grabbed the pen and pad of paper. She quickly wrote on some of the paper then ripped it off the pad before walking over and handing it to Ethan.
“This is my cell phone number…for now. Simply give it to Cleo and instruct her to call me. It’s that straightforward.”
“Uh-huh,” Ethan responded skeptically. “No offense, but nothing involving you is ever that simple.”
* * * *
Blayne
The SUVs pulled up to the east side of the White House, where they were quickly ushered past the security detail. Sepi Amin greeted them when they entered the East Wing of the White House lobby.
