Someone tapped Carolyn Pryce on the arm. She looked up, found a giant, mirror-shaded Secret Service agent standing next to her. Hayes. One of the President’s personal protection detail.

“Dr Pryce, the President has asked that you ride with him in the Beast. You can join him in the Executive Lobby.”

Pryce nodded, then looked down at her slate again.

[Kaori: I’ve gotta say, if I wasn’t inside the administration… Becker, then Holtzman, then Barnes? I’d find this all pretty damning.]

Pryce narrowed her eyes, then swiped to delete the message, and subvocalized one more time.

[Pryce: Don’t say that again. And one more thing. Get NSA in the loop. Chase pushing the story someone coerced Barnes. If so, they hacked Barnes’s security…]

That shouldn’t be a problem for Kaori. NSA was where Pryce had hired her away from.

There was a pause. Then another message appeared.

[Kaori: Got it. On both counts. Safe travels, boss.]

Pryce nodded to herself. Kaori was good. She just needed to be careful. DC wasn’t a place to speak one’s mind.

[Pryce: I’m flying POTUS Air. Safe as it gets.]

She walked into the Executive Lobby, on the top floor of Houston Intercontinental, and into the tail end of a family discussion.

“I really wish you’d come with us back to DC,” Stockton said. He had his daughter Julie in his arms. The First Lady stood nearby, cradling their grandson, Liam.

“Dad,” Julie replied. “I have a life here. I have work to do. Steve’s here.”

“That bomb was meant for you.”

“You don’t know that,” Julie Stockton shook her head.

The President sighed. “OK. But I’m beefing up your Secret Service detail.”

The First Lady looked up at that, nodded.

“I wish you wouldn’t,” Julie Stockton said.

Pryce sympathized with the girl. She’d bristled at the idea of having a Secret Service detail herself. It felt more like being a prisoner than being protected. Pryce had disliked the idea so much that she’d made not having one a condition of taking the job.

“I can’t do my job,” the President said, his hands still on Julie’s upper arms, “if I’m not confident that you and Liam are safe. That’s that.”

Pryce followed as a pair of Secret Service agents led the President and a large retinue to a cargo elevator, which plunged them down towards the underground garage that yet more Secret Service agents had held secure since Stockton’s arrival yesterday afternoon.

One of the agents held a finger to the bud in his ear, then spoke. “We have reports of protesters outside the hotel, Mr President.”

Cindy Stockton shook her head. “Protesters,” she said. “The sun’s not even up yet.”