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Adam Kelly sat against the wall of the hotel restaurant, glancing intermittently at the exits in front and to the side of him while casually reading a story about the President’s daughter who would be touring colleges in the coming week. The tables were beginning to fill as business travelers, as well as city workers filed in for breakfast.
Except that they weren’t travelers, or regular citizens preparing to go to work. At least four of them had made direct eye contact with Adam, if only for a second, and they all moved about the room as though they knew people were watching. Adam likened it to actors playing a role, and shook his head as he glanced back down at the paper. At least they had remembered to dress in street clothes as well as casual business attire rather than the obvious dress codes observed at the White House.
Emma Thomas was now 18, and Adam barely recognized her. The last photo he’d seen of her had to have been when she was ten years old. She had grown up practically on television, but Adam hadn’t watched anything beyond the occasional sporting event for any great length of time in nearly 15 years. He got his news from informants, or newspapers in whatever location his assignments took him to. He’d been recruited to the agency straight out of boot camp, and after he had completed specialized training the government provided in weapons, demolition, hand to hand combat, languages, and so on, Adam was immediately placed in the field.
“More orange juice, handsome?”
Adam nodded, and smiled, as she filled his glass from the pitcher in her hand. She had obviously unbuttoned a second button on her uniform; all but the top one had been fastened when she had seated Adam an hour before. As she set his glass back down on the table, she twisted her body at the hips so that he could see directly down the front of her shirt had he wanted to. When she found that Adam simply returned to the newspaper in front of him, she scowled and walked away.
“Thank you Judy,” Adam said, watching her pear shaped ass outlined in her tight black pants as it swayed back and forth. He made it a point to be looking down at her ass as she turned, and then he averted his eyes to her face to make her think she had caught him looking.
Her eyes lit up, and she smiled once again, before walking quickly back to Adam’s table.
“I don’t usually do this,” she whispered, scribbling furiously on her notepad. “But you should call me. Please.”
She handed Adam the note, and he accepted it, folded it neatly, and placed it in the pocket of his jacket without reading it. Adam didn’t think he’d be in town long, and Judy, frankly, wasn’t his type. With the dark roots beginning to show amongst her thick mop of curly blonde hair, and the heavy makeup coloring her face, as well as the fact that she was probably near 40 years old and working as a waitress in a marginal hotel in down town Washington, Adam guessed Judy had been through a divorce in the last couple of years. The makeup and the hair were an attempt to change her look, and reinvent her own image. But whatever her story was, Adam knew she had been given a tough break at some point, and made a mental note to leave an enormous tip.
Judy left his side once more, and Adam returned to the newspaper. He looked at his watch, saw that it was just about time, and calmly folded the paper, setting it aside.
Ten minutes later, Adam saw the motorcade pulling into the parking lot outside. As he saw the President exit the car, his eyes darted around the room. He chuckled softly, noting that every head in the place was trained on the person sitting across from them. Had these people not been the President’s security detail and advance team, but rather, regular citizens, they would have all turned to gawk out the window when they heard the sirens outside the building.
“I wonder who they’re trying to fool,” Adam thought to himself. “Unless they think Judy’s an assassin. Or maybe the cook in the back?”
President Milton Thomas strolled quickly through the door of the restaurant, and still the agents at the table remained focused on their plates, or the people sitting across from them.
Adam stood while the President made his way across the room. About twenty feet before he reached Adam’s table, the agents guarding him stopped and the President as well as a man Adam had never seen before approached him.
“Agent Kelly,” the President stated, extending his hand. It wasn’t a question; the President had obviously seen pictures of Adam prior to the meeting. In fact, it was likely the President had read his entire agency files.
“Yes, Mr. President. It’s an honor to meet you.”
“This is Donovan Teaghe, the acting director of the Agency.” Adam turned, and accepted the middle-aged man’s hand, quickly shaking it, before returning it to his side.
“Shall we sit down,” Teaghe said, already pulling a chair out from the table opposite Adam.
The President looked older than Adam knew he was. His face look haggard, İstanbul Escort almost more drawn out, weathered. The bags under his eyes suggested he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in quite a while. His hair was completely gray, and he seemed to be much older than his 51 years suggested. The lines on his face had deepened considerably since his second inauguration almost four years ago, and Adam instantly felt sympathy for the man.
President Thomas had won a hard-fought election while the country was enjoying an economic boom, and the flourish of technological advancement. The economy was steamrolling along, and optimism was at an all-time high. He had been elected largely because he was a member of the same party his predecessor was from, and the country ultimately decided they were better off with the status quo. But soon after election, a huge war involving six nations in Asia and Europe had erupted, three of nations were allies of the U.S., and the conflict didn’t end until millions had died over nearly three full years. Five years later, there was peace, but thick tension lay just beneath the surface of the entire region. Adam hadn’t been back in the U.S. before the previous night in almost 10 years, and he had seen the war up close and personal. But he also knew the tremendous pressure the President had to be under. Each country that had been involved was looking to the U.S. for support, and assistance, and the President had no room for errors.
Donovan Teaghe was probably approaching 60, and looked more like an accountant than the chief intelligence officer in the country. Between his wire-rimmed glasses, hooknose, nearly bald head, and prominent stomach, Adam could find no signs of the agent Teaghe had once been, as a young man working in Central America and Eastern Europe.
“We have to do this quickly, Agent Kelly,” Teaghe growled.
“Yes sir,” Adam said. “But what is it you need me to do.”
“Keep my daughter alive,” the President snapped.
“Agent Kelly, as you know, the President and the First Lady have a teenage daughter.” Teaghe was speaking again, and his voice was tinged with too much alcohol and nicotine.
“Yes, I’ve read she’s touring colleges this week? I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not a security guard. That’s what the Secret Service is for.”
“Agent, the only reason my daughter is alive today is because a sniper narrowly missed her,” the President barked, his voice breaking in the end.
Adam sat for a moment, his hands folded, listening while The President, and Teaghe explained that Emma Thomas had been the subject of repeated terrorist threats and attacks for the last 7 years. She had been taken into hiding at least four times, and a sniper’s bullet had gone astray by a matter of inches as she sat brushing her hair one evening in a safe house four months prior.
“But if she’s safe in the White House, why not just keep her there until you find the assassins?”
“We’ve found most of them, Agent Kelly,” the President said. “We had an informant who identified the group that had been hired to kill her. It was a small cell of six men, led by the brother of the former leader of Quator. Five are now dead, and accounted for, their bodies are being held by the Agency. My second term is coming to a close, and though we’ll have secret service protection, it won’t be enough to stop what would eventually happen. This assassin needs to be drawn out, and it needs to happen quickly.”
“Why did Prime Minister Brahim want your daughter killed, Mr. President?”
“You don’t need to know that, Agent Kelly,” Teaghe interrupted.
Adam turned, and studied Teaghe’s face. It was flushed red, his eyes were watering, and he was fidgeting with a napkin, twisting it in his hands.
“I assume there have been leaks to her location. That’s how this cell found her each time.”
“Yes,” The President confirmed. Teaghe shot him a look, but remained silent.
“Mr. President, are you the leak?” Adam asked.
“Agent Kelly!” the President barked. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to you son of a bitch? That’s my daughter. The first lady is dead, she’s all I’ve got left.”
Teaghe was glaring at him. Adam sat back in his chair, studying the President’s face. He was sincere. Adam felt instantly worse for what he had said, but his resolve grew. The man obviously loved his daughter.
“What about you, Sir?” Adam asked Teaghe.
“I am the acting director of the Agency,” Teaghe barked. “You think you can throw accusations around…”
“I’m sorry,” Adam lied. “But there can’t be many people who know about these threats, or at least, that they’ve been acted on, or it would have been all over the news by now. It’s been years. So that means, only a few people know what’s going on. I don’t need to walk out of here, and then three days later, find myself getting a bullet in the back of the head because one of you decided to sacrifice Emma, blame it on a rogue agent that some government had turned, and then start Anadolu Yakası Escort a war for political reasons.”
Teaghe and the President were silent, so Adam sat quietly, hands folded.
Finally, the President told him that a leak had been discovered in the residence of the White House. Someone was tipping off the assassins as to when Emma was being moved. They weren’t getting locations from that source, but the initial information the assassins were acting on had come from a maid who was being paid ten thousand a month for her betrayal.
“You couldn’t trace the money?”
“No, the money trail bounces all over the world. Then it eventually leads to corporations that don’t have any employees, no head quarters, or even legal charters.”
“And you’ve kept her on to plant a cover story about the President’s daughter leaving to do a college tour?”
“Not directly,” Teaghe said. “We assume Emma will do that herself, naturally, as she doesn’t know about the maid being a traitor.”
“Why was I picked for this? There must be a hundred other people more qualified…”
“There isn’t,” Teaghe said. “You are able to disappear at the drop of a hat, even our own agents who know what your missions are can’t find you.”
“Why does this assassin want the President dead?”
“I’ve already told you that you don’t…”
“Mr. Teaghe, with all due respect, I can’t protect somebody if I don’t know the motivation this person has for wanting her dead.”
“It’s politics and money, Agent Kelly,” The President said. “I trusted information I was given about the Quatorians betraying the United States, and I acted on it. Thousands of people wound up dead, and that’s not in the news either. The truth is, the Prime Minister had every right to want retribution, but he doesn’t want it with me, he wants to make me suffer. Emma doesn’t deserve this.”
“No contact, except when I choose to make contact,” Adam said. “I don’t want listening devices, tracking devices, cell phone traces, nothing.”
“We understand,” Teaghe said. “You’ll have access to a bank account with unlimited resources. If you need help with local law enforcement, or really, anything else, you call me. We’ll eliminate your trail when you need us to, and we’ll keep the press off this thing as long as we can.”
Adam had been studying Teaghe, and finally believed he too could be trusted. Both men were being honest.
“Where is she?”
“She’s out in the SUV. We’ re going to do a tour of a couple of colleges, with an agent posing as my daughter. But it’s only two stops over a day or so, then back to the White House. You won’t have long before the assassin finds out that my daughter is gone.”
“Is there anything you need?” Teaghe asked.
“How do I get in touch with you?”
Teaghe handed him a card, and Adam looked it over. It was an Agency card with two cell numbers printed on the back.
“Call either number. The line can’t be traced.”
Adam smiled, tucking the card into his pocket next to Judy’s note. As he stood to leave, the President took his arm.
“Mr. Kelly,” he said. “I may be the President, but in this, I’m a father. Please end this. She hasn’t lived a normal life in years. And we’re so tired. Please.”
Adam gripped his hand tightly before letting go. He nodded, and then walked out the front entrance, surrounded by agents. There was no sign of the White House press core, and nearly a dozen black SUV’s blocked the view from the road. The door of the SUV closest to Adam opened, and a young woman wearing sunglasses, a large sweatshirt, jeans, and a Baltimore Orioles cap stepped out.
Teaghe and the President had joined Adam, and Emma Thomas walked over to her father, carrying a duffel bag with the seal of the President stamped on each side. She hugged her father, said a teary goodbye, and the President walked slowly with Teaghe back to one of the cars.
Adam stood next to Emma as she watched her father get in the car, waving back at him. He allowed her a few moments before taking her forearm, pulling her behind him as he walked toward the parking garage across the street from the restaurant.
“Hey,” she said. “What the hell?”
“Let’s go, Emma,” he said, not bothering to turn around. When she began following him without having to be forced, he let go of her arm.
“Hurry, I don’t want you out on the street. Someone might recognize you, and gossip spreads quickly.”
They made their way to the top level of the parking garage, and Adam stood in the center of the concrete building, gazing at all the cars parked there.
“Great, you can’t even remember where your car’s parked. I’ll be dead by morning.”
Adam spotted red Neon parked near the down ramp of the garage and hurried over to it.
“Nice car,” Emma said, the sarcasm not lost on Adam as he picked the lock and hopped inside. He reached across and unlocked the passenger door for Emma. She opened the door, threw her bag in the bag seat, and Üsküdar Escort crawled inside.
“My God, she’s beautiful,” Adam thought to himself immediately, watching her jeans hug the outline of her firm, young ass, which was full and rounded, unlike the stick figure women he was so used to. But the thought disturbed him. He couldn’t afford to be distracted. They had a long drive ahead of them, and if they were lucky, they’d still be alive when the assassin was found.
“My name is Adam,” he said, offering his hand. She took it, smiling, and shook it as she removed her sunglasses with her other hand.
“I’m Emma,” she said. “But you already knew that.”
Adam stared for a moment, drinking in the sight of her soft, red lips, sparkling brown eyes, delicate nose, and gleaming white teeth. Adam saw very little of her father in Emma, but the eyes gave her away. Her long, straight brown hair hung just past her shoulder blades, the bangs framing her perfect oval-shaped face. She was easily the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Then he corrected himself.
She’s a kid, he thought, still staring at her.
Her breasts jutted from beneath the sweater as if she was hiding something beneath, and Adam fought the instinct to search her. He was pretty sure he had never seen even the outline of breasts that big, and he lingered a bit too long at the Presidential seal that covered them.
“You guys are all the same,” she chuckled. “Yeah, I have huge tits. You’re a cutie. Let’s go.”
Adam smiled, scanning the area in front of him as he pulled out of the parking lot and descended down the ramp. He made his way to the booth, found the parking ticket inside the visor, and paid the attendant. He turned out onto Potomac and headed out towards the interchange that would take him Northeast.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“We’re going to New York.”
“New York City? Yeah, nobody would ever look there. Are you kidding?”
”New York State, not the city.”
Emma spent the next three hours detailing her life, the near misses she had come to death, and her excitement about college, provided she lived that long. Adam told her as much as he could about his life up to the point where he had been summoned by Teaghe back to the States just the day before.
“No girlfriend, no wife, no kids?”
“None,” Adam answered. “Not with the life I have.”
“How old are you?”
“I’m 37,” he said. “How old are you?”
“You know I’m 18,” she laughed. “Or else, you’ve been living in a cave.”
“You’d be surprised.”
They had been driving for nearly four hours when Adam spotted a hotel just off the interstate. He signaled, got over, and made his way down the off ramp to the connecting street. After the stop sign, he took a left, and then a second left into the parking lot.
“I’ll take your bag and get a room. But you go in ahead of me, find the elevator, and stand facing it. Don’t move until I join you. Don’t look at anyone, don’t let them get a good look at you.”
“There’s nobody else here, Adam. There’s like, five cars, and this place is huge.”
“So you’ll do it?”
“Yes,” she chuckled. He stared at her ass, and his cock grew despite the sense of dread that had loomed over him the minute he was given his assignment. The girl was put together in a way he’d never seen any other woman put together. The jeans hugged her firm, round buttocks, and they swelled against the denim, swaying from side to side as she walked. Her breasts jiggled beneath the sweatshirt, and Adam couldn’t help but try to guess how far beyond a D cup they were.
“Get back in the game,” he said to himself, eyes still locked on Emma’s ass as she slipped through the double doors ahead of them, and moved off to the left of the lobby.
Adam walked in shortly after, paid cash for the room, and joined Emma by the elevator. They made their way to the room, ordered a couple of hamburgers through room service, and settled in.
The room was rather small, too small for the Queen sized bed that sat in the middle of it, extending out from a wall that contained a large framed picture of something that looked like a cross between a flower pot, and a portable commode. Emma had spread out on the bed, and Adam casually glanced at her breasts again, watched as they rose and fell while she relaxed, arms above her head, hair splayed out beneath her.
“There’s only one bed,” she said. “You’re not going to try and fuck me in the ass while I’m asleep are you?”
“What?” he said, surprised by her language. Then he turned, saw her laughing, and began laughing himself.
“Surprised ya, didn’t I. I saw you looking when I was walking into the hotel. Your reflection was pretty telling, I saw it in the glass doors. So do you like girls with junk in their trunk?”
“Yeah, I didn’t think Presidential daughters were supposed to say such things.” Emma’s voice was soft, and feminine, and she spoke with a rhythm and cadence that suggested she had been choosing her words carefully for years, always paying attention to who was listening. Her father was a politician, and currently, the Commander-In-Chief. But the sound of her voice was like music to Adam, it soothed him, and he fell in love with Emma’s sweet voice immediately.
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