River looked over as Shawn walked into their dorm room. The blonde Californian was putting on his jacket – his bright orange Columbia jacket, which was a sure sign that he wasn't going to be hanging out at the academy, because they weren't allowed to be seen in clothes that stuck out like that, and that jacket definitely did just that.
"I'm going to meet a guy."
"Yeah? Who?"
Shawn wasn't aware that River knew all that many people in Colorado – and he thought he knew them all.
"A guy that knows my dad. He's a big surf enthusiast, and wants me to pass on a present for him."
"He's a surfer? Here?"
River grinned.
"Not all surfers live on the water, Shawn. Just those that are lucky. The rest of them only get to surf on vacation."
Shawn smiled, shaking his head. He'd gone to California with River on Spring break and had tried surfing. It wasn't so bad, but he'd been well aware of the fact that sharks liked to try and eat people on surfboards, and Shawn had plans for his life that didn't include being bait.
"Why doesn't he take the present to your dad himself?"
"Because mom and dad are in Australia right now – and it's not a cheap ticket to get there."
Shawn frowned, walking over and sitting down on his bunk as he watched River automatically straighten his jacket – even though he wasn't in uniform.
"Have you ever met this guy?"
"Nope."
"You're going to meet with a stranger?"
River smiled, looking over at Shawn.
"You think someone's going to kidnap me?"
Shawn flushed, knowing that he was probably being a lot more suspicious than he had to be. It wasn't really his fault; he probably got that particular characteristic from Jack, after all.
"Where are you going?"
"To a coffee place downtown."
Which told Shawn there would be plenty of people around, so he probably didn't need to worry about the guy being some kind of freak. It was Saturday morning, after all, and a beautiful day at that. There'd be lots of people out and about – and chances were the coffee shop would have its share of customers.
"Oh."
River grinned again and slapped Shawn's shoulder as he headed for the door.
"Relax, Shawn. It's a meeting downtown with a friend of my dad's. What could possibly happen?"
OOOOOOOOO
Saturday morning on the east coast of the country was just as nice as it was in Colorado, but Nathan Brooks didn't even notice the nice weather as he drove from New Jersey to D.C. For that matter, he didn't notice a lot of things; his mind was on something far more important the trees blooming white blossoms and the way the sun shone so brightly that it made most of the other people on the road more cheerful just being out in it.
He reached D.C. just after 9AM, long before River was heading out the front gate of the academy grounds to catch a bus downtown, and because it was Saturday, instead of heading towards the Mall where he'd normally find the Vice President this time of day, he headed instead for a classy eatery that was on the east side of town, well out of the way of the noisier – and nosier – population and a favorite gathering spot for some of the higher up levels of bureaucracy in the nation's capitol. It was also well known – to those who needed to know – that this was one of Kinsey's favorite places to eat on Saturday morning. Ian Piper had known it, and had made sure Nate knew it as well, because it was also going to be the best place to contact the Vice President. Even if the man didn't want to be contacted.
He pulled into the valet parking area, tossed one of the guys the keys to his car and gave him a menacing look that plainly said to be very careful parking it. Then he headed inside.
The Roost was a fairly small restaurant that catered to the very well to do. It was always filled – even on a weekend morning – and the service and food weren't really the reason why, even though they were both excellent. It was just the place to be seen – and in a city like D.C., people always wanted to make sure they were in the places to be seen. Even though it was busy there, Vice President Robert Kinsey never had to worry about being crowded. He had a room set aside just for him – or for him and his family if they should be with him – and with a couple of armed Secret Service agents outside the door keeping people away unless he said it was okay for them to join him, there was no reason he couldn't come here and enjoy a leisurely meal, and even do a little business that had nothing to do with being the Vice President. The room was secure and one of the few places in D.C. that was free of any surveillance equipment – his agents made sure of that – and it was one of the few places the barely healed man felt truly secure.
Right up until one of his worst nightmares came barging through the door, trailed by two extremely ruffled looking agents, who had obviously just been run over and ignored.
Ian Brooks didn't look at all like his father. He was slim and dark, taking after his mother, while Nathan Brooks was a large man with blonde hair and blue eyes. But even if Kinsey hadn't seen Nathan before – and he had – he'd still have recognized the furious anger in the man's eyes as being related to the dark-haired young man who had magically appeared in his hospital room that night not so long ago, asking him about a plane crash and terrifying him far more than he'd ever have admitted to anyone.
Kinsey shrank back in his well-padded chair, reaching helplessly for the cane that was still needed to aid him in walking and knowing that if Brooks was there to do him harm it wouldn't help him at all – and neither would the Secret Service men.
"What do you want?" He asked, almost screaming it, furious at himself for being terrified, and even more furious at his inability to hide that fact.
Brooks walked over to the table, just as intimidating now as he had been the last time Kinsey had seen him, two days before Thanksgiving. The day Kinsey had learned a lesson he'd never forget.
"We need to talk, Kinsey," the voice was as cold as the harsh blue eyes were, and the Vice President was glad no one could see just how badly his knees were shaking. "Tell the Service guys to leave us alone for a minute."
Terrified of doing what he said – and losing the scant protection of the two armed men – and even more terrified of what might happen if he refused, Kinsey looked over at the leader of his Secret Service detail. The man had his hand in his jacket – on his sidearm, Kinsey knew. But that didn't make him feel any safer. If bullets started flying, Robert Kinsey was fairly certain he was going to be the first one to go down.
"Go ahead…" his voice was a croaking noise, but clearly heard. "I'll be all right."
He wasn't so sure about that – and could tell that the Secret Service guys weren't sure, either – but they both left. Probably, Kinsey decided, they didn't want bullets to fly anymore than he did.