Hi everyone! I'm back and I'm excited for this new story. Updates may be sporadic until next week, but I promise to keep the updates coming. Enjoy!
The van couldn't sit on the curb. It was a little suspicious- a big dark unmarked van can't just stay neutral on the side of the street in Washington DC. People passing would report it to the police or nearest security station, and drawing attention to it would blow its cover. So, it had to be parked out of sight, where it could be of little help should it be needed.
Several men stepped off the cold sidewalk of Pennsylvania Avenue and entered their hotel-The Willard-formal black tuxedos covering their white dress shirts. The people having Christmas tea in the lobby would have assumed these well-dressed people were just here for the wedding reception going on in the Grand Ballroom.
The men certainly looked the part, the red flowers on their breast pockets, the gelled hair, the look of celebration on each face. But the guests who saw them didn't know that the wedding party upstairs had red roses. These men had red carnations on their jackets.
The group meandered over to the front desk, checked in, and then went to the Scotch Bar, where two more men in identical dress sat, the older one nursing a heavy vodka, the younger a scotch. That made six people.
After some conversation, the enlarged group strolled to the Crystal Room, which is on the lobby level. The men were in no hurry- they took their time, but eventually made it to the entrance to the Room itself. The doors slid open, and the men entered a party of their own. Only about one hundred people were present, but the room was decorated tastefully. Red carnations filled crystal vases scattered around the room. Women in formal evening dresses lingered on the arms of their husbands. It was obvious that every person attending this party was wealthy, but used to hard work.
The party goers were celebrating a... successful business season. If one turned their eyes to the front of the room, next to the buffet table, they would have seen a podium, and a stout, weathered man about to draw everyone's attention.
But just as the speech was about to begin, the older of the two men from the bar pulled out a small revolver. It was vintage, as he said he enjoyed "a classic" when he needed protection. His aim found the retreating form of the younger man with him, and he fired.
The young man hit the ground, his back arching with the impact of the shot. He landed on his side, rolled over onto his stomach, and was still. A trail of blood crept from his mouth.
All eyes turned to the shooter, and everything was silent. The man seemed not to notice. He simply approached the body, and felt for a pulse. A satisfied smile touched his face. He took the victim's knife from his pocket- which he was known to keep in case of emergencies. Nobody noticed the other shape in the pocket- the distinct shape of a federal NCIS agent's badge.
So, what did you think? Why don't you let me know. Leave a comment.
By the way, the Willard is real and one of the fanciest hotels I have ever been in. I hope that one day I will get to be a real guest.