They worked together for an hour and a half until Smithers came into her office, breathing hard as though he’d run over from the hangar. “Hey, you guys hear who the VIP is?”
“No, who?” Honor asked, giving him half her attention as she typed out an e-mail.
“The President and First lady.”
At that she stopped typing and turned her head to stare at him. “No way.” She knew he’d been in Seattle for some high-profile meetings with some other leaders in an environmental summit, but she hadn’t expected him to visit the base today. Jeez, no wonder the security was insane.
Ipman turned away from the filing cabinet, where he’d figured out a one-handed system of filing. “You serious?”
“Yeah, just found out. Was a last minute decision, apparently. Morale booster for the troops, maybe his party thinks it’s a good way to boost votes, who knows, but for sure he’s making an appearance. You two coming to the concert?” He checked his watch. “Starts in twenty minutes. If you want a seat, you’d better get there quick.”
“Wait, who’s performing again?” Ipman asked, stacking the last of the files atop the cabinet. Smithers named two big country stars and Ipman’s face lit up. “I’m so there.” He glanced at Honor. “You coming, ma’am?”
All her important work was caught up and an outdoor concert sounded perfect. “Sure, why not.” She shut off her computer, turned off the lights and locked up, sliding her cell phone into her front pants pocket. “What about the others?” she asked as they left the building and headed to the outdoor concert site that had been set up by the USO. The sun had just sunk out of sight and it was a beautiful, calm night. Perfect for a concert and fireworks. “Isn’t Andrews coming?”
“Nah, he and some of the other guys might come later,” Smithers answered. “Man, I wonder how many Secret Service agents are here?” he mused, looking around as they neared the venue.
A large stage had been set up at the far end of one of the PT fields, festooned with red, blue and white bunting and a huge banner that read Thank You Troops. A security checkpoint had been set up at all the entrances to the field. Honor and the others stopped and let the guards she suspected were undercover Secret Service agents search them. Beyond the temporary gates, young families were already set up on the field with blankets spread on the grass and picnic-style dinners laid out to enjoy.
Once they were through security Honor had a better view of the venue. There were a few rows of chairs set up near the front of the stage where she guessed the President would be sitting, then some low security gates. High-ranking officers and other officials were in the seats already, a dozen big men dressed in suits standing with their backs to the metal gates as they scanned the crowd.
“There’s some of your Secret Service guys,” Honor said to Smithers, raising her voice to be heard over the noise of the assembled crowd. It was no secret that Smithy had always dreamed of joining the Secret Service after he left the Army.
“That’s gonna be me someday,” he said to her and Ipman.
“I bet you will,” Honor answered. There’d be way more undercover guys dressed in uniform scattered throughout the crowd and elsewhere on base, and then there’d be the sniper teams and bomb-sniffing dog teams and the rest of the entourage that came with a presidential appearance. The air space around the base would be guarded as well.
Honor surveyed the growing crowd around her, a mix of mostly soldiers and their families. She remembered Liam’s warning about a possible insider attack, and now that she knew the President was coming—the perfect target for a terrorist—a shiver of foreboding ripped through her. But then she chided herself.
If the soldiers on base hadn’t known about him visiting the base tonight, then a terrorist couldn’t have known either. Besides, with all this additional security she was safer here than she’d ever been back at Bagram. That made her feel better.
Hundreds of people were already gathered in the large grass field, right up to the secured area, most talking in groups and some craning their necks with their cell phones raised toward the stage, taking pictures and no doubt hoping to get a shot of the President whenever he arrived. Zooming in with their cameras from this distance was the closest they’d get to him.
An official from the USO came on stage to get things rolling and soon the opening act got underway. With Ipman on one side of her and Smithers on the other she let herself relax as the chords from the two acoustic guitars blended with the singers’ voices.
The crowd joined in, singing along, whistling and clapping in approval at the end of each song. At the end of the opening act, just as dusk began to fall, the President arrived and the crowd went nuts, hollering and whistling like crazy. He smiled at the greeting and waved to the crowd before taking his seat, then the main act came out.
Ipman was obviously far more excited to see the headlining country artist because he whistled and yelled and sang along in a slightly off-key voice to the opening number. By the time it was over Honor was relaxed and enjoying herself. Didn’t matter that she only knew a few of the songs, the venue was awesome and the exuberant energy from the crowd was contagious.
The singer ended one song, said a little speech thanking the soldiers for their service, which was met with more raucous applause, then pointed to his drummer and the air filled with a complex rhythm a second before the electric guitar started up.
A sudden commotion broke out in the VIP area.
Honor’s gaze jerked to the President as a few of the Secret Service guys jumped the metal barrier and surrounded him and the First lady. The singer faltered and the rest of the band lost their rhythm. Honor stared in alarm, her heart seizing as the security team grabbed the POTUS and bodily rushed him out of the field.
“What the hell?” Smithers muttered, looking around in suspicion. The energy in the crowd had already shifted, everyone glancing around them, a chorus of concerned murmurs rising into the evening air.
“We should go,” Honor said, reaching for Smithers’ arm.
She’d just closed her fingers around his wrist when a shout sounded behind them. Whipping around, she caught the look of alarm on one soldier’s face as something streaked by overhead. Less than a heartbeat later, the world came apart in a blast of heat and noise that threw her off her feet.
Chapter Nineteen
Honor hit the ground face down, the impact punching the air from her lungs. A tremendous roar erupted, drowning out everything else. She struggled to her side as it faded, gasping for air.
What the hell?
Screams and shouting came from the area where the stage had been only moments before. Now it and the entire area surrounding it was a smoldering crater.
Heart pounding, she pushed to her knees and cast a frantic glance around. Smithers and Ipman were also climbing to their feet, looking slightly dazed. Whipping her head around, she checked in the direction where security had dragged the President. Was he still alive? She got her breath back, found her voice. “Did you guys see—”
More screams from behind her, another streak and a second explosion detonated in another wave of sound and heat. This time it was close enough that the ground rolled beneath her. She gasped and instinctively crouched as the shockwave blasted outward, beating at her body like a hurricane-force wind. Debris began raining down, pelting her head and back with bits of dirt and slivers of wood.
Honor covered her head to shield her face until the worst of it had passed. A strong hand wrapped around her upper arm. Pulled upward. She squinted up into Smithers’ grim face. “RPGs?” she shouted over the noise, climbing to her feet. Ipman was looking around frantically.