“It’s not anything you have control over.” He glanced behind them as he shifted lanes. “I imagine outside of the district, it’s a less likely occurrence.”

“Probably. I guess it depends on what’s going on in the world at the time. It fascinates me, the things people are interested in news-wise.”

He checked the rearview mirror before taking his sunglasses off.

She gestured toward him. “Were the glasses to block your identity?”

“Yes.”

“Like the beard?”

“Exactly. Facial profiling makes anonymity a necessity in my line of work. Partly for my family’s safety, and partly for the purpose of clandestine operations.”

“Wow.” She propped her elbow on the armrest and leaned toward him. “Impressive, Captain Norton.”

“Yeah, well, impressive is what I’m always striving to achieve.” His grin was quick and easy.

He pulled up to the gate at her parents’ residence. When he rolled the window down, a man’s voice came over the intercom. “Yes?”

“Captain Norton, bringing Doctor Myers home.”

“One moment.”

Before the last syllable died off, the gates silently swung open. Rick eased the car forward.

“I’ve contemplated finding my own place,” Cynthia said, “but I haven’t quite decided I want a Secret Service companion, so I’ve put it off.”

“Well, at least you have all the amenities here,” he said with a smile.

“Ha!” she said. “And then some.”

“Your old hut would probably fit in that gatehouse over there,” he remarked as he put the car in park.

“Twice.” She slipped off her seat belt. “Please take the leftover burgers to your guys. They’ll probably enjoy them.”

“You assume I’m willing to share.” He slid out of the car and walked around to open her door. She took his hand and let him help her up. He did not move back. She stood secure between him and the door. Gently, he picked a cherry blossom out of her hair and then held it up, letting the wind catch it. “Thank you for going to dinner with me, Cynthia.”

“I enjoyed it. It was nice to spend time with you on American soil.” She reached up and brushed her fingertips across his cheek. “To see your actual face.”

He smiled briefly, then stepped aside. “Where do you go to church?”

“I go to my uncle’s church.” She told him the address.

“You’ll be there tomorrow?”

“I will be there at ten.”

“Great. See you then.”

Chapter
Twenty-three

Rick sat in the back of the church on an old wooden pew and watched people filter in. He’d spotted Secret Service in two different locations. He wondered if the level of security was always this high or if the incidents in Katangela had heightened it. Had more threats been made against the vice president because of the death of Chuckie? Unless Rick himself had something directly to do with the threats, he would never know.