Above All, Honor

Chapter Five

Mac was surprised to see Megan walk in at 7 a.m. on the dot on Sunday morning. The report from last night's watch said it was she who'd picked up Dawn's trail and tracked her down in the late hours of the night. Interestingly, there was no report on the surveillance inside the bar. Pete would have to do that herself. He nodded hello as she poured coffee and joined him at the large central work station.

"How long have you been on this detail, Mac?" Megan asked conversationally.

"Since the beginning of the President's term," he replied.

"Have things been this out of hand the entire time?"

Mac held his breath for a second, trying to judge who he might potentially offend that mattered. He couldn't think of anyone. "Worse. At least last night we found her. There have been a half dozen nights, and one whole weekend, when we didn't know where she was."

"Christ," Megan muttered. "How the hell did you keep that quiet?"

Mac shrugged. "Dawn's not stupid. She knew we'd have to hit the panic button if she were completely out of contact, so she called in every few hours, randomly, from pay phones, to prove she was okay. We ran around like assholes the whole time trying to find her."

"No repercussions?"

"She's got a lot of pull with her old man. If someone complains about her, and it gets back to him, it better be serious, or you're looking for a new job. And for some reason, the President doesn't seem to think a little joyriding is a big deal."

"I do," Megan said flatly. "And since we're not going to get any help from above, we'll have to stay tight on her, but also not get in her way. She's most likely to run if we crowd her."

"I think everyone understands the plan," Mac replied.

"See that they do."

"Yes, ma'am."

...

At 3 p.m., Normani emerged from her apartment building and climbed into the back of the nondescript black car waiting for her at the curb.

Megan Pete was inside.

Normani was dressed for the gallery opening in a simple black dress that spoke of taste and understated elegance. The thin straps accentuated the toned muscles of her shoulders and arms, while the scooped neck revealed just a hint of cleavage.

This was a pre-publicized event, and the presence of the Secret Service was expected. Normani noted that Agent Pete looked well-attired for the gathering in a gray silk suit and monochromatic shirt, beautifully tailored and fashionably cut. This was one public servant who did not buy her clothes off the rack.

The guest list composed of a mixture of all the important art collectors in the city, with quite a few of the artists as well. Megan had photos of all of them saved for security purposes, and she ensured that any and all attendees at the Soho gallery had received a proper invitation. Nevertheless, this was the most dangerous situation for Normani– a public function, advertised in advance. At the very least, there would be a curious crowd gathered outside. Megan planned on being inside with two other agents, while the second team waited in the car.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Hamilton," Megan remarked as they traveled.

"Agent Pete," Normani quipped. "We meet again. Are you to be my date today?" she asked mildly.

Megan shakes her head, remaining professional.

"I plan on coming in after you're already inside. It's not the best idea for me to be too easily identified, especially at times when I need to be unrecognizable for your safety."