3 Thank God it's Monday by Robert Michael Page A

crime
scene investigation. Someone would play back the recording from the cameras. She
only had so much time.
    It was up to her. It had always been up to her. She
extracted $2,000 cash from her credit card. She would visit her bank tomorrow
and withdraw the remaining $4,500 savings. She hoped that her Agency-issued
card would work one last time.
    Hallie was grateful when the attendant at LaGuardia allowed
her to book her flight to Washington with the Agency Visa. She passed security
with her badge, smiling politely at the TSA official. The smile was not
returned.
    Her JetBlue flight didn’t leave for three more hours so she
visited Bijoux Terner and got a new handbag, a scarf, and a beret. She pulled
her hair back and looked at herself in the mirror. She added some heavier
makeup to hide her eye color and changed out of her blouse and discarded her
blazer. The skirt would just have to do. She bought a t-shirt and a new pair of
sandals from “Life is Good.”  What a joke!  She was tired of the heels, anyway.
    Finally, she got a sandwich from Angelina’s Paninis and
settled down to wait in the bright chairs, staring out into the darkness and
blinking lights. She debated who she could trust to call. Should she risk
everything and ask for help? Would the senator keep sticking his neck out for
them? She decided it was up to her. Jake was her responsibility. She just
wished she knew where he was.
    She thought back to Kyle. He had died so inelegantly. Her
fingerprints were everywhere. She worked there, so that would not be abnormal. But
she had checked in at the desk. She was certainly on camera. Her voice surely
was recorded on the security tapes when she called it in.  
    She could not afford to worry about those things. She tried
to distract herself.
    Hallie glanced up at one of several large flat screens. CNN
was on. Something was happening. Further down the terminal she could hear an
echo of a set that had the sound turned up. Several travelers were gathered
around the set in a semi-circle.
    She considered just sitting still and maybe getting a
snooze, but some dark premonition made her get up and walk up to the group, her
eyes taking in the spectacle on the television.
    “...the embassy was attacked at approximately 6:20 am. Only
service personnel were present at time. US consulate offices, CDC, and INL
personnel have been taken to a secure location. The attack is believed to be
orchestrated by a terrorist group tied to Islamic extremists. Connections to
drug trafficking have also been suspected. US officials have no comment at this
time...”
    Hallie reached forward and tapped an older gentleman on the
shoulder. He turned, his eyes quizzical.
    “Where is this?” Hallie asked.
    “South Sudan American Embassy.” He turned back to the news.
    Hallie tried to do the math. Was Sudan eight hours ahead?
Six?
    “...No word officially from President Vine, but Niles Trent,
his press secretary has hinted at a press conference perhaps in the morning. This
is the third major attack this year in South Sudan. In May, Lebanese ambassador
Fadi Hajjar, was attacked by Hezbollah militants in Juba, setting off a
firestorm of support for Jewish residence in Sudan. Speaking for the...”
    Of course , Hallie thought. A press conference. They
have infiltrated the press . At least now she knew where she would be able
to find Jake.

Chapter 9

Natural Born Killer
    T he hardest part about pretending was that part of him
wanted to be here. It was familiar ground. The Marine sentry with his
ridiculous rigidity. The Secret Service personnel tired, wired, and alert. The
agents with binoculars and high-powered rifles on the rooftop. The smell of the
roses wafting up to greet him as he entered the West Wing. The pristine
whiteness symbolizing good. It was all comfort to him.
    Jake flicked the press pass on his jacket and tried to smile
as he was checked by yet another security personnel. Everyone seemed to go
through the motions.
    He had passed all