The Third Option - Part 6
This is part six of my new novel "The Third Option" which should be released in May.
David scanned the lobby looking for Bronx, but didn’t see her. He pulled out his cell phone to check the time and saw he was a few minutes early. He hadn’t received a text from her, so he decided to wait in one of the huge chairs in the lobby.
After about twenty minutes, he found himself feeling impatient and uncomfortable. Several of the staff had eyed him suspiciously as he sat holding his backpack. He did not fit the profile of their typical guest. He decided to head out the gold revolving doors to wait outside.
“No thanks”, David said to the bellboy who offered to get him a cab. “I’m just meeting someone here.”
David stood outside the glass doors, periodically glancing back inside to make sure Bronx hadn’t entered the hotel through another entrance.
His eyes lit up when he saw her about half a block away heading toward the hotel. Her blonde hair was a little longer than when he had last seen her, but it would still be considered short. He noticed she had a cute little bounce when she walked, seemingly trying not to step on the cracks in the sidewalk. When she looked up and saw him, her pace quickened.
“David, I’m so glad you came to visit,” she said as she threw her arms around him.
David was a little over six feet tall and Bronx was almost a foot shorter, but their bodies seemed to fit perfectly as they both held the embrace. David felt a little self-conscious when he noticed the bellboy watching them.
“So you’re going to show me Central Park?” David asked.
“New plan. That asshole president of ours is in town and we’re going over to join the protest.” Bronx grabbed his hand. “Come on. It’s only a five minute walk from here.”
The crowds grew as they got closer to where the president was staying. The police had blocked off the street in front of the building so the crowds were kept at a distance.
“What exactly are we protesting?” David asked.
“Everything.”
David looked at the numerous signs being held by the protestors. Bronx was right. People were protesting his plan to build a wall along the Mexican border, his immigration policies, his sexist views of women, his bashing of the press – even his denial of the global warming problem. The crowd started to chant as several police cars, a bunch of big black SUVs, and even more limousines pulled up in front of the building.
David was tall enough to see over most of the crowd, but Bronx wasn’t as fortunate.
“I can’t see – I can’t see,” she said. “Lift me up on your shoulders.”
David quickly dropped to one knee and Bronx climbed onto his shoulders. He stood up just as the limousines drove by in front of them.
David was a little shocked at the profanities shouted by the people in the crowd. Several held signs saying the president should resign or be impeached. A few even threatened his life.
A few seconds later, the president emerged from the limousine, gave a quick wave to the crowd, and headed into the towering building. He was completely surrounded by a team of secret service agents. There were several other limousines in front of the building as well, but no one emerged from them. David wondered who was inside.
The crowd started to disperse after the president had entered the building.
“Holy shit,” Bronx said. “Quick – get me down!”
David dropped to one knee and Bronx climbed off his shoulders.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“It’s my Dad. He’s one of the cops doing crowd control.” They continued to crouch behind the people in front of them. “My Dad told me to stay away from this area and I told him we wouldn’t be anywhere close – that we were going to Central Park. So, if he asks anything about it tonight, we were never here – got it?”
“Yeah, okay,” David said.
Bronx grabbed his hand and led him back through the crowd, continuing to crouch as they made their exit. Hopefully, no one saw them.
* * *
Inside one of the remaining limousines, FBI agent Charles Dent watched the NYPD move to break up the crowd.
“Show’s over – time to move along,” he heard one of the officers yell.
However, Dent stayed in the limo and scanned the crowd looking for any potential threats. Although the Secret Service was responsible for protecting the president and his immediate family, Dent was on special assignment by the FBI to provide protection for his extended family. Agent Dent had been on this assignment ever since the presidential campaign started and he had grown quite close to them. The family called him Charles and treated him like their favorite uncle. Charles had grown particularly fond of the president’s grandson and affectionately called him D3.
“Why does everyone hate Grandpa so much?” D3 asked.
“They don’t hate him – most people love him,” his mother answered. “There’s just a few people who don’t like what he’s trying to do.”
But the kid was not stupid. Although he was only ten years old, Charles knew D3 could read the signs and see the anger on the people’s faces. D3 looked at his mother who gave him a reassuring smile and then at Charles. Charles quickly looked away and continued his scan of the crowd.
“POTUS is secured,” Charles heard in his earpiece. “Proceed with securing the family.”
“Copy that,” Charles said into his microphone. “Preparing to move Everest and his family.”
The family had been around the Secret Service long enough to know that Everest was the codename for the president’s son. They all got ready to leave the limo.
“What’s my codename?” D3 asked Charles.
Charles knew the kid didn’t have one. They were only assigned to the president and his immediate family, plus some other key people in the government. The names weren’t assigned by the Secret Service; they were actually assigned by the White House Communications Agency.
“How about we call you D3,” Charles said with a smile. He didn’t reveal that some of the secret service agents referred to him as Pinocchio because of his habit of lying when he was in trouble, a trait he seemed to have picked up from his grandfather. Charles didn’t like that nickname because he liked the kid. D3 just panicked when he was caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar, but he always came clean and told the truth in the end.
Charles exited the limo and stood in front of the door for a few seconds doing a final scan of the crowd. Finally, he gave the signal for Everest and his family to exit the limo and they escorted them into the building.
Everything was secure.
David scanned the lobby looking for Bronx, but didn’t see her. He pulled out his cell phone to check the time and saw he was a few minutes early. He hadn’t received a text from her, so he decided to wait in one of the huge chairs in the lobby.
After about twenty minutes, he found himself feeling impatient and uncomfortable. Several of the staff had eyed him suspiciously as he sat holding his backpack. He did not fit the profile of their typical guest. He decided to head out the gold revolving doors to wait outside.
“No thanks”, David said to the bellboy who offered to get him a cab. “I’m just meeting someone here.”
David stood outside the glass doors, periodically glancing back inside to make sure Bronx hadn’t entered the hotel through another entrance.
His eyes lit up when he saw her about half a block away heading toward the hotel. Her blonde hair was a little longer than when he had last seen her, but it would still be considered short. He noticed she had a cute little bounce when she walked, seemingly trying not to step on the cracks in the sidewalk. When she looked up and saw him, her pace quickened.
“David, I’m so glad you came to visit,” she said as she threw her arms around him.
David was a little over six feet tall and Bronx was almost a foot shorter, but their bodies seemed to fit perfectly as they both held the embrace. David felt a little self-conscious when he noticed the bellboy watching them.
“So you’re going to show me Central Park?” David asked.
“New plan. That asshole president of ours is in town and we’re going over to join the protest.” Bronx grabbed his hand. “Come on. It’s only a five minute walk from here.”
The crowds grew as they got closer to where the president was staying. The police had blocked off the street in front of the building so the crowds were kept at a distance.
“What exactly are we protesting?” David asked.
“Everything.”
David looked at the numerous signs being held by the protestors. Bronx was right. People were protesting his plan to build a wall along the Mexican border, his immigration policies, his sexist views of women, his bashing of the press – even his denial of the global warming problem. The crowd started to chant as several police cars, a bunch of big black SUVs, and even more limousines pulled up in front of the building.
David was tall enough to see over most of the crowd, but Bronx wasn’t as fortunate.
“I can’t see – I can’t see,” she said. “Lift me up on your shoulders.”
David quickly dropped to one knee and Bronx climbed onto his shoulders. He stood up just as the limousines drove by in front of them.
David was a little shocked at the profanities shouted by the people in the crowd. Several held signs saying the president should resign or be impeached. A few even threatened his life.
A few seconds later, the president emerged from the limousine, gave a quick wave to the crowd, and headed into the towering building. He was completely surrounded by a team of secret service agents. There were several other limousines in front of the building as well, but no one emerged from them. David wondered who was inside.
The crowd started to disperse after the president had entered the building.
“Holy shit,” Bronx said. “Quick – get me down!”
David dropped to one knee and Bronx climbed off his shoulders.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“It’s my Dad. He’s one of the cops doing crowd control.” They continued to crouch behind the people in front of them. “My Dad told me to stay away from this area and I told him we wouldn’t be anywhere close – that we were going to Central Park. So, if he asks anything about it tonight, we were never here – got it?”
“Yeah, okay,” David said.
Bronx grabbed his hand and led him back through the crowd, continuing to crouch as they made their exit. Hopefully, no one saw them.
* * *
Inside one of the remaining limousines, FBI agent Charles Dent watched the NYPD move to break up the crowd.
“Show’s over – time to move along,” he heard one of the officers yell.
However, Dent stayed in the limo and scanned the crowd looking for any potential threats. Although the Secret Service was responsible for protecting the president and his immediate family, Dent was on special assignment by the FBI to provide protection for his extended family. Agent Dent had been on this assignment ever since the presidential campaign started and he had grown quite close to them. The family called him Charles and treated him like their favorite uncle. Charles had grown particularly fond of the president’s grandson and affectionately called him D3.
“Why does everyone hate Grandpa so much?” D3 asked.
“They don’t hate him – most people love him,” his mother answered. “There’s just a few people who don’t like what he’s trying to do.”
But the kid was not stupid. Although he was only ten years old, Charles knew D3 could read the signs and see the anger on the people’s faces. D3 looked at his mother who gave him a reassuring smile and then at Charles. Charles quickly looked away and continued his scan of the crowd.
“POTUS is secured,” Charles heard in his earpiece. “Proceed with securing the family.”
“Copy that,” Charles said into his microphone. “Preparing to move Everest and his family.”
The family had been around the Secret Service long enough to know that Everest was the codename for the president’s son. They all got ready to leave the limo.
“What’s my codename?” D3 asked Charles.
Charles knew the kid didn’t have one. They were only assigned to the president and his immediate family, plus some other key people in the government. The names weren’t assigned by the Secret Service; they were actually assigned by the White House Communications Agency.
“How about we call you D3,” Charles said with a smile. He didn’t reveal that some of the secret service agents referred to him as Pinocchio because of his habit of lying when he was in trouble, a trait he seemed to have picked up from his grandfather. Charles didn’t like that nickname because he liked the kid. D3 just panicked when he was caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar, but he always came clean and told the truth in the end.
Charles exited the limo and stood in front of the door for a few seconds doing a final scan of the crowd. Finally, he gave the signal for Everest and his family to exit the limo and they escorted them into the building.
Everything was secure.
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