Dalton was tired of following Senator Martin Epps. He either went to his Moose Tribe at night or out on a dinner date with his wife. Otherwise he was at his home or most likely at his office. And unfortunately, Dalton couldn’t find a way to go unseen in the Capitol Complex, especially with its being late on a Sunday afternoon. There weren’t many people strolling the halls of the Russell Senate Office Building.

It itched at him. Dalton wasn’t used to surveillance. He was used to action. He was used to running into dangerous situations, not sitting back in the shadows, waiting for something to happen. But as the hours ticked by and the sun’s hot rays turned into a warm late afternoon glow, Dalton continued to stay in the shadows.

Tate and Birch sat across from each other at the table in the Solarium on the third floor of the White House. She sat back listening to Birch practice his talking points with Claudia for later that afternoon. They kept the conversation light and discussed having to decorate the residence on his own and the fact that he still hadn’t picked out a china pattern—all duties that had previously fallen on the First Lady. Birch talked about the history and the honor of living at the White House before Tate sprung a tough question on him.

“And what it is like working from home?” Tate asked with a light laugh as if she were Claudia.

“The commute is great,” Birch joked back.

“What do you say to those who think you shouldn’t have someone like Tate Carlisle—your personally selected press secretary currently embroiled in scandal over a picture showing an intimate relationship—not only working with you, but also a frequent visitor to your residence?”

Tate kept her face impassive as she noted Birch’s face turning a shade red and his hands clenching.

“You can’t do that. She’ll smell blood,” Tate sighed.

“What did I do?” Birch asked with frustration. Tate had been nitpicking everything he’d said and done for the past two hours.

“You clenched your hands, your eyes narrowed a fraction, and your cheeks are a little flushed. You need to think of puppies and kittens when she asks about me. Keep your entire body relaxed,” Tate instructed. “Let’s go again.”

Lizzy’s gloved hands worked the powder as she dusted for latent prints on the folders from the meeting at the White House the other day. She had rows of cards with each person in attendance lined up waiting for the tape with the prints to be applied. As she brushed off the excess dust, exposing a clear fingerprint for Senator Martin Epps, she slowly set down her brush and reached for the tape.

“Is that Epps’s?” Alex asked, his face inches from hers.

“Yes,” Lizzy said, pulling the tape slowly off the print and pressing it to the card, then repeated the steps on the rest of Epps’s fingerprints. It took time, but she was able to get a complete print for every finger.

Letting out a breath, she handed the card to Alex. “Scan it and compare it to the partial from the rock that we found. If Epps was the one leaving the orders for Phylicia, then we can take him down tonight.”

Alex took the card and scanned it. Lizzy watched as the fingerprints appeared on the screen on the left while the partial print was visible on the right side. The software began an analysis as lines connected. Lizzy leaned forward holding her breath. Every fingertip, every ridge, every nuance of the print was analyzed and compared to the partial print she’d recovered weeks earlier.

“Dude,” Alex said slowly, turning to look at Lizzy when the results flashed across the screen.

Dalton was impatient. Epps was holed up in his office and Birch’s interview would be starting soon. He felt as if he were the one teetering on the edge of a cliff. He either fell off into nothingness or soared across to the answers, waiting on the other side. It was so close he could almost reach out and touch the answer to solve all this.

Dalton leaned forward as his phone rang—Jason.

“Hey man, did you find anything out?” Dalton asked his former mentor.

“Yeah. The man’s name is Hugo. His mother was a diplomat. His father was an actor. His mother retired from the Swedish government when she married. They moved to L.A. and Hugo was born and grew up in the States. After college, he worked for the Swedish government for a couple years before coming back to the States and taking a security job at one of the movie studios. Then he started a bodyguard business for some of the actors he made connections with.”

“Which studio?” Dalton asked.

“Stanworth Motion Pictures,” Jason responded.

“Of course,” Dalton said, connecting another dot. He filled Jason in on what they’d found and Tate’s killing of Fitz.

“That lines up with what Hugo told me. He doesn’t know much beyond Fitz being his handler. But there is something I need to tell you.” Jason sounded worried, and Dalton held the phone closer to his ear to make sure he didn’t miss a single word.

“What happened?”

“He tried to attack me when I entered this afternoon. I was going to try to learn more about his time in Sweden. He had taken a strip of his pant leg off. I didn’t notice and when I walked in, he kicked out my prosthetic. I fell to my knees and he was behind me with the fabric around my neck. I was close to blacking out when I took my knife and sliced blindly behind me. I hit his femoral artery. I tried to save him so you could question him. I’m sorry, I messed up.” Dalton heard the guilt in Jason’s voice.

“Jason, you got more information out of him than we thought. He attacked you. I would rather you killed him than he killed you. If I ever get married, someone will have to be my best man, and I would like it if you were around for that.”

What the hell? Dalton paused and didn’t even hear Jason’s response. Who the hell was talking about marriage? He’d never thought of marriage, never mind who the best man would be.

“I’m happy for you, Dalton,” Jason said, bringing Dalton back to the conversation completely freaked out. “Lizzy’s a great woman. It’s about time you got married.”

Dalton heard the sadness in his voice. They’d just buried his wife, and Dalton brought up marriage. What the hell was wrong with him? He needed to shoot something—and fast. Dalton almost jumped out of his seat when the door opened to the Russell Senate Building and Senator Epps stepped out.

“Nothing’s set in stone. It just popped into my head. Besides, who’d marry me? But look, Jason, the guy I’m following is leaving. I need to go. Good work today.” Dalton asked suddenly, “Are you busy tonight?”

“No, what do you need?”

“Want to take a trip?” Dalton asked with a smile. Birch was going to love this.

“Sure. Where to?”

“L.A. and bring the body.”

Birch straightened his tie as he sat on the chair in the library. Claudia Hughes was surrounded by makeup crews as she discussed their upcoming interview. Cameras were in place and ready to capture the moment. The managing editor, Larry Wilkinson, was off to the side talking to Tate. He couldn’t believe how calm she looked. It wasn’t as if in twenty minutes she wouldn’t start the first crack in the foundation of Mollia Domini with the press of a button.

Humphrey kept close to Birch’s side answering any of the questions the crew or Claudia had. Birch eyed Claudia. She was dressed in a patriotic blue suit that seemed ironic, considering who she was in league with.

Humphrey looked down at his phone and excused himself. Claudia shooed the makeup artists off and smiled at him. “Thank you so much for choosing me to do this interview.” Her hand came to rest on his knee.

Birch smiled warmly and shifted so her hand fell off. “Of course. I got the questions you want to ask, and I’m good with them. Do you need to know anything before we begin?”

Claudia shook her head. “I have all I need.” She looked off to the side and saw Tate and Larry smiling as they talked. “How’s it working with Tate? You know, she used to work at BBN with us. We sure miss her there.”

“I bet you do. She’s the best journalist out there.” Birch looked down and brushed an invisible piece of fuzz from his suit coat as Claudia slowly registered the insult.

“I heard she was your date to the Fourth of July Ball. I bet that caused quite a stir! But Tate’s such a sweet girl. You couldn’t have picked better.”

Birch smiled back, neither confirming nor denying Claudia’s statement.

“Mr. President,” Humphrey said quietly as he approached Birch. “I’m so sorry to interrupt. This won’t take but a minute.”

Birch unhooked his microphone and stood up. He placed the microphone and pack on the chair before turning to Claudia, who wasn’t all too pleased that he remembered to remove the microphone. “Please excuse me, Miss Hughes.”

Birch strolled out of the room with Humphrey and into the soft yellow Vermeil Room across the hall. “Yes?”

“Dalton just called. Jason got information from the hostage. He’s a dual citizen, American and Swedish. He worked security for Stanworth Motion Pictures before going out on his own. He took his orders from Fitz.”

“Took? As in past tense?”

Humphrey nodded his little bald head. “He attacked Jason. Jason won. That’s why Dalton called. Jason can transport Fitz and Hugo to L.A. right now for us.”

Birch let a slow smile creep along his face. “That will make a statement. Make sure Brent Eller is tipped off—anonymously, of course.”

“Good. Jason is already headed for Mr. Abel’s private jet. I’ll have Alex grab Fitz and meet him there.”

“Sebastian is going to love this.” Birch chuckled.

“Lizzy has instructed me to keep Mr. Abel in the dark about all activities.”

Birch stopped laughing. “What? Why?”

Humphrey looked slightly uncomfortable. His bow tie bobbed as he swallowed hard. “It seems Mr. Abel’s name has come up in the investigation where it shouldn’t. And he asked Lizzy to do some things that were slightly off the books. She did it because it helped the group. But she’s cut him out of all future missions until they can clear him in the investigation.”

Birch felt the blood drain from his face. Sebastian was his best friend. The only man he could trust until recently. “That has to be wrong.”

“I’m sure Lizzy can explain it to you better.”

“Mr. President? They’re ready for you,” Tate called from the doorway.

Birch spun around and walked toward her when he saw she was alone. Dropping his voice, he asked, “Did you know Lizzy is keeping Sebastian in the dark?”

Tate looked guilty as she nodded. “Um, payments made to and from subsidiaries of SA Tech through the bank in Mexico gave us cause for concern. It’s a bank owned by a cartel and was used to pay off Phylicia.”

Well, shit. That wasn’t what Birch was expecting. He took a deep breath. “Okay. We’ll talk about it later. Humphrey, have the group meet here tonight after the bar closes. I think we will have a lot to talk about. Now, let me play nice for one last time.”

Birch walked through the door and into the library. It was a comfortable room that he enjoyed spending time in. It’s why he chose it for the interview setting. It was relaxed, just like him. At least that was the appearance he wanted to give.

Claudia smiled as a crew member hurried to reattach the microphone. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” Birch said with a casual smile in return. “Just an everyday occurrence around here. There’s always something that needs to be handled. Are you ready to get started?”

Claudia gave a nod to Larry, who set the ball rolling. The camera light turned red and Birch relaxed back in his chair.

“I am Claudia Hughes and this is the Claudia Hughes News Hour brought to you from the library of the White House. I’m spending tonight with President Stratton for his first exclusive interview since he was sworn into office.” Claudia turned to face Birch. “Thank you for having me in your home, President Stratton.”

“A pleasure, Miss Hughes.”

Dalton watched as Epps walked down Delaware Avenue, past his car, and into the park directly behind the office building. He didn’t go to the more popular Upper or Lower Senate Park, but kept to this side of Delaware Avenue until he turned into the park just past C Street.

Dalton got out of the car and strolled after Epps. The park in question had two main walking paths that ran catty-corner, forming an X. There was a circular area in the middle where the two paths crossed. Dalton began a slow jog, running down C Street, and saw Epps walking toward the middle of the park. Dalton cut into the park, jogging through the grass and trees past Epps. He reached the circle and took a deep breath, stretching as if he were out for his evening jog. He didn’t see anyone until he turned toward the far end of the path Epps was on. A man was walking toward him.

Dalton couldn’t see who it was, but the man slowed when he saw Dalton. Dalton did one last stretch and then turned to go down another path, away from the center of the park.

Stopping as soon as he could, he ducked off the path and circled around behind the man he’d seen. From his spot in the trees he made his way closer, tree by tree. The two men stood in the center, looking toward the senate building. Dalton stopped behind the nearest tree large enough to support his weight and silently pulled himself up. The full leaves of summer hid him from view as the man did a slow circle. Dalton waited as the man’s face slowly came into view—FBI Director Kirby.

“I saw a jogger,” Kirby said, looking for Dalton.

“Well, he’s not here now,” Epps hissed. “We don’t have much time. I think I’m being followed.”

“We shouldn’t be here,” Kirby said, sounding angry.

“We have a problem, and we have to solve it,” Epps reminded him before they both slowly looked around once more. Dalton tried to creep farther out on the limb, but the branch moved. He froze as both men looked toward the tree.

They looked long and hard, but then a squirrel darted down the trunk and the two men relaxed.

“Do you have any leads on the bomb?” Epps asked. Dalton almost fell out of the tree at the mention of the missing bomb.

Kirby shook his head. “Fucking Phylicia Claymore. I was pressured by Mitchell to assign her to that position. I knew she was trouble, but I owed him for my appointment. I never should have played politics.”

“It’s not your fault, but we have to find it before they can use it.”

They? Dalton held on tight with his left hand as he angled his ear toward them and cupped it with his right hand. He was confused. He thought Epps and Kirby had the bomb.

“My contacts in border control tell me the tunnel that Hermanos de Sangre use has been seeing increased activity. I’m worried about an attack on that front as well as whatever Phylicia has put into motion before she was killed,” Kirby told Epps as he maintained a constant vigilant eye on the park.

“I’m getting stalled on the political front. I was denied permission to travel to Africa. I was told there was a hold for now on entering the country where Phylicia was found. I’m afraid someone is on to us,” Epps said, looking nervous again.

Oh, someone was onto them all right. Dalton didn’t know what they were up to, but right now he couldn’t decide if they were assisting Mollia Domini or resisting them. One thing was clear. The time for observation was over.