The trip to Capitol Hill for Sayeed's hearing goes smoothly, so smoothly that, in Oona's crass yet accurate words, you could have lubed up a dozen Hustler girls and let them work all day long without going dry. The only person to snort at that colorful bit of imagery had sounded like Tim, and Lena is unsure if that hurt or helped his standing with her assistant. His standing was at first helped by his and Raylan's uncovering of the suspiciously large trust fund paid out by Senator Stratford and then took an immediate downturn when Lena had asked Oona to stay behind and investigate it instead of attending the hearing. James had gamely offered to make her lunch and commiserate over their confinement to the house.

Everything had all gone without a single hitch. No one had followed them, no one was waiting for them when they arrived, and no one so much as glances the wrong way when they enter the hearing room. The whole thing had gone so well that were Lena not convinced everything was about to go horribly wrong, she'd have felt silly for the amount effort and artifice they'd all put into getting Sayeed here in the first place. It's not that someone followed and they didn't see it or that they'd followed the decoys instead, it was that they simply hadn't bothered. And after all the crazy crap GenCorp and their conspirators had already pulled to keep Sayeed from testifying this doesn't make a lick of sense, and Lena's nerves are frayed as an old rag.

Sayeed sits sandwiched between Lena and John, Dave and Suki in the front and back. He's the only one staring ahead, still except for the periodic movement of his thumb over the outside of his pocket where he'd tucked his Misbaha prayer beads. Tim and Raylan stand on either side of the room, their purpose made obvious by the bulletproof vests proclaiming US MARSHALS in large white letters. Lena checks her phone again, both waiting for Oona to provide conveniently timed damning evidence about Stratford and to check the time. It's five after ten. Senators Karrigan and McMaster are late. Lena purses her lips and tamps down on her annoyance, glancing toward the front panel where Senator Johnson is conversing with one of his aides. She stares, waiting to catch his eye, hoping he can provide some sort of non-verbal clue as to where the heck his colleagues are and when they plan on gracing everyone with their presence.

Her patience is not rewarded. Johnson continues to focus on the conversation with his aide and continues to look more and more annoyed. Lena shifts restlessly and smiles reassuringly when Sayeed glances sideways at her. Senators. Arrogant bastards, thinking the whole dang world revolves around them. Another glance at her phone. Still nothing from Oona, and ten more minutes have passed. She debates texting her long-suffering assistant for a progress report but resists with the rationalization that asking isn't helping and all she's likely to get out of it is snark and no substance. She hopes James hasn't gotten super bitter and broken open the wine cellar so that the two can drink away their woes. Maybe a check-in text isn't a bad idea. Lena's tapping out a message when the crinkling static of a microphone breaks through the restless buzz of the hearing room.

"If I could have everyone's attention…" Lena's head snaps up at the sound of Stratford's voice. "Senator McMaster and Senator Karrigan have been unavoidably delayed and are unable to attend today's hearing. Given the serious nature of the charges being brought, it would be best to have all members present, and I motion to reconvene at a later date."

You fuck-dick sack of shit. One glance at Johnson shows professionally muted rage. Stratford had been the one to push for an early meeting, and now he's unnecessarily putting it off. There are twenty-seven members on the Armed Services subcommittee, and Karrigan and McMaster's absence – while annoying – isn't a reason to reschedule. But before anyone with an ounce of common sense can point out this fact, Senator Cranahan has already seconded the motion. No consideration, no argument, no 'sorry for wasting everyone's time', just 'hearing date delayed k thnx baiii.'

"Let's go. Now." Dave's suddenly on his feet and casting a tense shadow over Lena and Sayeed. The worry in his voice turns Lena's anger to fear. Suki's already got a helmet over Sayeed's head and is pulling him towards the door. Dave has a hand around John's arm and is glaring at Lena to get with the program. Oh that fuck-dick sack of shit.

Stratford never cared about getting the hearing over with early. Of course no one bothered trying to tail them to the Capitol. All they had to do was get Sayeed to show up, cancel the whole thing so he couldn't testify, and then follow him out. Tim and Raylan move in to flanking positions, making a diamond formation with Dave and Suki. Lena and Sayeed and John are manhandled to a back entrance whilst Suki barks orders into a cell phone. She tries to peek out a window only to be yanked back by Dave, who gives her another 'get with the program' glare.

Lena nervously turns the ring on her middle finger. It's a fifty-yard dash down to the road over exposed lawn, and although Lena's made the wise decision to wear sensible shoes, a lot can happen in fifty yards, and neither she nor John is wearing a vest, and even Sayeed's can't stop everything, and the vest and helmet don't cover his legs…

"You're not dead till you're dead."

And you ain't dead, dollface. Breathe.

Apparently, that bit of worry was for naught because ninety seconds later two SUVs come barreling over well-manicured grass and right up to the steps. Some landscaper is going to have a very bad day. A firm hand on the back of her neck shoves her lower to the ground and out of the line of sight as they make the much shorter three-yard dash down the steps and into the vehicles.

o.O.o

Sayeed and Lena go into one SUV with Dave and Suki, who Tim assumes also 'work for the State Department', and he and Raylan pile in the other with Lena's boss, John. Raylan pulls out a cellphone and swipes the screen to begin dialing.

Both their driver and John immediately object. "Turn it off or get out of the car."

Raylan looks like he'd rather hit the both of them, but does as he's told.

"Actually, wait." John turns back to the two Marshals. "You showed your badges around. Give me your phones. Now." He barks the last word when they don't comply quickly enough.

John cracks the window, "I'll buy you both new ones later," and tosses each phone out of the car.

Tim winces. Raylan follows the arc with his eyes, turning back with a deep breath after it shatters on asphalt. "I had photos of my daughter on there."

"Then take some more next time you see her."

Raylan's jaw tightens, and Tim can see the mental countdown from ten happening in his head. He decides he likes seeing Raylan have to roll over for someone who as zero mercy or sympathy.

Tim's smirking to himself, reveling in karma finally providing Raylan's just comeuppance, when the right rear tire of the SUV in front of them explodes, lifting it off the ground and tossing it sideways to slide across the median in a scraping spray of concrete chunks and gravel.