Hail Warning

White House Rose Garden — Washington, D.C

Joanna Weston was sitting in the Rose Garden, which had been her favorite place to seek solace. But now, as she looked up at the hundreds of cloudy glass panels constructed over the top of the garden, she felt as if she were sitting in an expensive terrarium. Enclosed and on display like a turtle in a glass tank. In the back of her mind, she cursed Marshall Hail for his boisterous meeting with her, which not only freaked her out, but also sent her Secret Service team into a tizzy. They could not figure out a way to protect her from laser-shooting drones without putting some sort of top over the Rose Garden. The glass panels were irregular, which laser beams did not favor; thus, the engineers explained to her the beam would be scattered as it passed through the glass. It would be ineffectual as a data path.

The opaque glass would still allow light into the Rose Garden, and the roses would not suffer from the glass enclosure. It was apparent no one would suffer, except the president, who loved the warmth of the sun on her skin, the openness of the sky and everything one felt when outside.

Yes, it was Hail’s fault but, she understood he pointed out the security flaws that needed to be addressed. It could have been much worse. A drone flown by those meaning her harm could have breached the security protocol. She supposed it were best to learn a lesson with no fatalities, especially if that fatality happened to be hers.

Pepper had been escorted to the door leading to her sanctuary, and he stepped into the Rose Garden. He took a moment to disapprovingly look over the new tangle of glass and aluminum overhead.

As he approached the president, he gestured up at the new security implementation with a wave of his hand, “How do you feel about all of this, Madam President?”

“I hate it,” Joanna Weston told him flatly.

Still looking up, Pepper commiserated, “I can see why. Doesn’t really give one an outdoor feeling.”

Since Pepper had stated the obvious, the president didn’t feel she needed to expound upon his statement. Instead, she said, “Please sit down, Jarret. Tell me how Operation Hail Warning is going.”

Pepper pulled out a metal chair, and he sat at the glass table void of anything except for a single yellow rose in a clear glass vase.

“Would you care for something to eat or drink?” the president asked the head of the CIA.

“No, thank you. I need to return soon to stay abreast the mission.”

“Please provide me an update,” the president repeated, leaning back in her chair. She was dressed in a pink blouse with a white scarf tied around the collar like a short tie, and a pair of pleated white dress slacks. As usual, Pepper wore a gray suit.

Pepper said, “Everything is going as planned — at least as far as I have planned it. Victor Kornev was approached by my agent, Kara Ramey, who made it very clear to the Russian he had no other option other than to work for us.”

“Very impressive,” the president said.

“But shortly after her little pep talk, we discovered Kornev was still trying to sell shoulder-fired, surface-to-air missiles to the African Boko Haram terrorist organization.”

The president glanced at Pepper, shocked.

Pepper continued, “So we interdicted the missile shipment.”

“Oh, very good,” the president said. “And what did Marshall Hail’s team contribute toward this mission?”

“Not very much,” Pepper said, looking up at the glass ceiling above them again. Choosing not to look the president in her eyes, he added, “Hail is mostly providing logistical support — providing transportation to move people and parts around — that sort of thing.”

“It sounds like something we could have done on our own,” the president said. It was partly a statement and partly a question, allowing Pepper the opportunity to elaborate.

“Well, Hail has the advantage in having lots of business assets in areas where we have very little resources.”

The president absorbed the information. She then asked Pepper, “Have we lived up to our part of the bargain with Mr. Hail? Have we told him where he can find the next person on our Top Ten Terrorists list?”

“Yes, we have,” Pepper said directly.

The president didn’t respond. She appeared lost in thought. She looked at the glass above her, not bothering to mask her disdain for the enclosure. She said, “Thanks for the debrief. I’m glad you have given him his next target. I want to keep Mr. Hail on our good side.”

Pepper said nothing.