“I know,” Harrison replied, aggravated that his revelation had made tracking down the C-4 eggs even harder.
Singleton mumbled, “Talk about a veritable Easter egg hunt…”
“That’s it!” Harrison said.
“What is?” Singleton asked.
“What day is today?”
“Sunday.”
“I mean, what holiday is today?”
“Easter.”
“And what happens every Easter Monday at the White House?”
Singleton’s and Khalila’s eyes widened in understanding. “The annual Easter Egg festivities,” Khalila answered. “Each year, they ship thousands of dyed eggs to the White House for the games.”
“That’s where the C-4 eggs are headed,” Harrison said, “if they’re not already there.”
Singleton pulled out his phone and called the information in while Khalila contacted the NCTC. Harrison also made a call, his pulse racing as he dialed.
Maddy was at the White House today for the tour with Christine.
68
WASHINGTON, D.C.
Since 1878, American presidents and their families have celebrated Easter Monday by hosting an “egg roll” party. Held on the South Lawn, it is one of the oldest annual events in White House history. More than forty thousand adults and children participate in the event each year, which includes over thirty thousand hard-boiled eggs, half of which are dyed and used for games and the other half consumed as egg pops. Although Braswell Farms in North Carolina provides most of the eggs each year, Gordon’s Wholesale provided the remainder for this year’s festivities.
At the apex of the South Lawn, a white Gordon’s Wholesale van coasted to a halt behind several other vehicles parked on the curved driveway behind the White House. In the driver’s seat of the van, Lonnie Mixell surveyed the bustling activity as supplies for tomorrow’s event were unloaded. Thus far, everything had gone according to plan.
After being hired a few weeks earlier as a weekend delivery driver for Gordon’s Wholesale, his assignment to assist with the egg deliveries to the White House this weekend had occurred as expected. The security check at the entrance to the White House grounds had been uneventful; the physical disguise he had chosen for today matched the picture on his Gordon’s Wholesale identification card, and a check of Mixell’s cargo had yielded no weapons or anything suspicious — just a large crate of dyed eggs.
After stepping from the van, Mixell pulled the crate from the back, then approached a supervisor with a clipboard, informing her of his cargo.
“I’ve got a shipment of egg pops for the White House.”
The supervisor checked her clipboard, then looked up with a confused look on her face. “We’ve already received all of the egg pops.”
Mixell shrugged his shoulders. “I just deliver what they load in the van.” He nodded toward a note taped to the crate. “They said it was an extra order for the White House staff.”
The supervisor considered the matter, then looked around for a place to deposit the egg pops.
“They need to be refrigerated,” Mixell reminded her.
“Oh, right.” She captured the attention of one of the dozen police officers nearby, a member of the Secret Service Uniformed Division, responsible for protecting the White House and foreign diplomatic missions in the District of Columbia, who was providing security during the Egg Roll event and its preparations. “Can you escort this man to the kitchen?”
The officer agreed and Mixell joined him as they entered the White House.
On the main floor of the West Wing, Christine waited with Maddy beside the closed door to the Oval Office. They had almost completed their White House tour, with Christine even showing Maddy the Situation Room in the basement of the West Wing. The only space left to explore was the Oval Office, which would include a meeting with its occupant. Christine could tell Maddy was nervous, fidgeting as she waited to meet the president of the United States.
The president’s secretary approached. “He’ll see you now.”
Christine knocked, then entered the Oval Office with Maddy alongside her.
The president, seated at his desk, rose to greet his guests.
“Christine, it’s good to see you, as always.” Then he turned his attention to the young girl accompanying her, extending his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Maddy. I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said as they shook hands.
“You have?”
“Actually, I’ve heard a lot about your dad.” He gestured toward the two sofas at the other end of the Oval Office, which faced each other.
As the president sat on one sofa while Christine and Maddy settled into the other one, the cell phone in Christine’s purse vibrated. Considering the circumstances — an audience with the president — she ignored the call.
“I understand that you haven’t spent much time with your dad the last few months,” the president said. “I know it’s hard not being together, but your father is a very important man, and he’s been assigned to a critical mission.”
When scheduling today’s meeting with the president, Christine had explained to him that Maddy was Jake Harrison’s daughter, and had reminded the president that Harrison and Khalila were the two CIA employees who had tracked Mixell down months earlier, preventing him from launching surface-to-air missiles at Air Force One as it took off from Joint Base Andrews. After learning what had happened to Harrison’s wife, followed by Maddy’s subsequent separation from her father, the president had agreed to amplify Harrison’s role while steering clear of Angie’s death.
Christine’s cell phone vibrated, and she ignored it again.
Maddy simply nodded as the president spoke, awestruck in his presence. The Oval Office door suddenly opened and Special Agent Ashley Tobin, this afternoon’s shift leader for the President’s Protection Detail, burst into the room, accompanied by three other Secret Service agents.
“We have an imminent bomb threat, Mr. President. We need to get you to safety immediately.”
The president stood, quickly surveying Christine and Maddy. He extended his hand to Maddy. “Come with me. You’ll be safe.” Turning to Ashley, the president said, “Christine and the girl will join me.”
Ashley acknowledged the president’s order, then led them toward the elevator that would take them to the hardened underground bunker deep beneath the White House. Along the way, Christine’s phone vibrated again, and this time she answered.
Harrison was on the other end, informing her that Mixell had shaped the C-4 into Easter eggs, and that they were already at the White House or on their way, being delivered for Easter Monday’s festivities.
They had almost reached the elevator when Christine hung up, deciding she’d be more useful tracking Mixell down than hiding in a bunker. There were dozens of lives at stake if fifty pounds of C-4 were detonated in the White House, and even if he had altered his appearance, she could likely spot him if he was here. There shouldn’t be too many six-foot-two men who looked somewhat like Mixell in the White House or on its grounds.
Christine explained her plan and the president nodded his concurrence as he stepped into the elevator with Maddy, directing one of his Secret Service agents to accompany Christine as she searched the White House.
Mixell was loading the C-4 eggs into one of the large White House refrigerators when an announcement blared from a speaker in the kitchen ceiling.
“Lockdown in progress. No personnel may enter or exit the White House until further notice. All personnel shall remain in their current location until directed otherwise.”