17 June, 0817 hours, Washington, D.C.
Randle Gustavson, team leader for this group of Secret Service agents, rapped his class ring three times on the tabletop in front of him to get attention. His once-handsome face had evolved to a perpetually frown-like scowl, his crewcut matched by squinty eyes, and a suit that could cut a razor.
"Quiet!" The room was abuzz with a mix of curiosity, excitement, and regrets for having left bed too early. When the room quieted he continued, "Good morning, ladies." Today there were no groans or giggles at his standard opening line. "We have a VIP package coming into the south lawn of the white house today. You've been rehearsing variations of it for two weeks, so I'm sure you may have already guessed who is coming for breakfast. If you have not, I'm telling you now that a UFO is going to come out of the sky and land on the White House lawn. Any jacking around or screwups today will ensure that you do nothing for the rest of your career except inspect one-dollar bills for counterfeits." Nobody seemed completely surprised, but a ripple of excitement ran through the group.
"So, I need two teams, one to secure the Ellipse area after the ship lands and another to double up on threat screening. We're expecting the package at ten o'clock this morning, but there may be a swing as much as thirty minutes either way."
The twenty-five agents in the room seemed equally puzzled. "Sir, what's going on?" It was Sinclair, always bucking for a promotion he wouldn't get.
"I said quiet, and I meant it. I don't have any further details, so you don't need any further details." Gustavson squinted as he scanned the faces in front of him. "The President is keeping his normal schedule until about 9:30 or whenever the package arrives. So it's just another day at the ranch and you all know what to do, right?"
"The vice president is in Costa Rica and the Speaker is in his home state." Gustavson paused like he was waiting for a question, but nobody was asking.
"Last thing. Whatever or whomever the hell it is landing out there today, is as valuable as the President and is to be defended accordingly. Do you get me?"
The agents understood, and yet at the same time could not understand. Such was the confusion the day would bring. Gustavson took the murmurs as assent.
"Sinclair, take your team and vest up. Go in mid-heavy. You have the Ellipse." Sinclair nodded and fidgeted to the front of his chair, ready to go as soon as Gustavson was done.
"Tank, your team goes tactical. Rooftops and extended perimeters. Stay out of sight."
Tank was a perfect nickname for Todd Morrison. He was just that - a hunk of a guy so thick you could think he was slow and fat, but then he would flatten your ass while he kicked it six ways from silly. Tank nodded his acceptance.
"Do not talk to the press. Forward all questions to the dead phone line. Comms are to be encrypted and in code only. Standard rotations. Dismissed!"
- - - - -
"Attention!" PFC Crandle always sounded like a girl who had just seen a spider when he called the troops to attention. The National Guard troops jumped to attention, craning their necks to see who had called them up this morning.
The first officer in through the door was a colonel without a name tag or ribbons. He was wearing sunglasses indoors too, meaning this guy didn't want to be known, so he also probably didn't want any silly questions. Next came Major Horner, who was a fixture in the regiment and everybody knew him.
Finally came Captain Okerson, who looked like he had just seen a ghost or something. He looked some papers over that he was holding, but he clearly wasn't reading them. "Easy fellas. This morning we're being pre-deployed to the Washington DC area, in the event we're needed for crowd control duty. I hope you've had your breakfast because it could be a long day. We're trucking in. Load up on non-lethals. We deploy in 30 minutes." He handed the papers to the major before continuing, "All officers to the Major's office in five, for further briefing. Platoon leaders check in with the Master Sergeant who is waiting for you in the armory. Dismissed!"