“Thank you for your cooperation,” said Hayes.
“You have no idea what you’ve done. None! All you had to do was give us your names. That’s all!”
“That’s not all and you know it!” growled Saint. “You knew what they were doing. You knew what was going to happen or you wouldn’t have been so concerned. That woman is dead and you might as well have been driving the car that killed her.”
The two men walked out of the office, walking back through the cubicles of disgruntled, unhappy employees. As they stepped into the elevator, the one across from them opened, four men in black suits stepping off.
“You’re late boys,” smirked Saint. “See ‘ya next time.”
They took the elevator down two floors, stepped off and waited for the elevator banks to pass them. Then they took the stairs to the basement, found the emergency exit to the street and casually walked out.
“Ever wonder why the government hires idiots?” asked Hayes with a smirk.
“All the time, brother. All the time.”
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 area 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.
