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did not imagine that the younger man wouldn’t know he was being checked up on. Kealey wanted to be convinced; otherwise, he wouldn’t even have bothered making the trip.
    â€œYou’ve seen it all over the news, I imagine. It’s just fucking unbelievable. A hit on three cars in broad daylight, and we have nothing. Except, of course, for six dead civilians, one a pregnant woman, and seventeen injured. The media’s all over this, and so the president is all over us. Evidently he was pretty close to the senator.” Harper shivered as a brisk wind swept through the bright orange leaves of the trees overhead. “This guy took out Levy’s entire detail, Ryan. I’m not talking about people who barely managed to squeak by on the Civil Service Exam. They weren’t riding out desk duty for the pension, either. They were professional protection officers rotating off the presidential detail, for Christ’s sake.”
    â€œI heard on the news that one survived. A woman.”
    â€œYeah, her name is Megan Lawrence. Seven-year veteran. That’s a sad story—she’s got a six-year-old kid, and she’s not expected to pull through. Fuck it.” Harper whipped his empty Starbucks container toward an overflowing trash receptacle. It bounced off the top and hit the ground, where the wind promptly pushed it back onto the sidewalk. A female jogger dressed in colorful attire approached, her blond ponytail bouncing in accordance with her footfalls. She shot Harper a dirty look as she passed them by.
    â€œLevy was on his way back to Alexandria; he and his wife had a place on Gentry Row. The route was checked out by the detail and given approval, but it was one of five possible choices, and selected at random less than a half hour before they left the Russell Building. So we have a list of people that had access to that information, and it’s short. The Bureau is taking a hard look at each and every one of them. From what I gather, they already went to McLaughlin on the D.C. Circuit for the wiretaps. We should know more in a day or two, if they’re willing to participate in the new spirit of cooperation.”
    â€œWhy was a senator receiving Secret Service protection anyway? I thought that came down to the Capitol Hill Police.”
    Harper hesitated meaningfully before answering. “I can show you why. We have a tape—more than one. I think, actually, that you might know the person who did this.”
    With this revelation, it was as though time suddenly stopped for the younger man. Cold fingers inched their way up from the base of his spine, threatening to seize his throat in a terrible grip. He was lost for a moment, until just as quickly the feeling passed and he felt Harper’s reassuring hand on his shoulder.
    â€œWatch the tapes, Ryan. Watch the tapes and tell me what you think. That’s all.”
    The two men walked slowly back in the direction of the café, Harper awarding himself silent accolades. Kealey was lost in another, more terrifying world altogether.

CHAPTER 3
WASHINGTON, D.C.
    A lthough the nation’s capital is home to many prestigious medical facilities, including University Hospital in Georgetown, the only adult burn unit in the metropolitan area is located in the Washington Hospital Center on Irving Street. Within forty-five minutes of the rocket attack all but three of the victims had been routed either directly or indirectly to this center, including Megan Lawrence, the only Secret Service agent to survive the initial devastation.
    Naomi Kharmai wearily climbed the worn stone steps that were in constant contradiction to the modern building they adorned. She had spent the morning at Washington General speaking with bystanders who hadn’t seen or heard anything that could be of real use to her, or more importantly, to her immediate supervisor. The clouds had made an appearance earlier in the day, and the sky was a white sheet