"I hope you don't mind riding with me," Dawkins said. "Will be quicker that way."
"No," Adriana said. "I don't mind at all."
One of the president's assistants approached as he and Adriana made their way down the corridor. The young assistant looked like she was in her mid-twenties. Her dark green dress fluttered in the air as she strode toward the commander in chief.
"Mr. President, here is your itinerary for the event." She passed him a sheet of paper.
He took a glance at it and then thanked her. "I appreciate it, Grace. Keep things running smoothly 'til I get back."
She grinned, appreciating his sense of humor. "I'll do my best, sir."
Outside, the motorcade waited with several police cars in front and back. More Secret Service men stood around the black limousine, waiting and watching. They almost looked like robots, standing perfectly still and twisting their heads back and forth as they scanned the area for any potential threats.
One of the guards opened the rear door to the limo. The president and Adriana got in and slid into the back seat. A young man with black-rimmed glasses and curly brown hair sat across from them in the seat facing backward.
"Morning, Gerald," Dawkins said. "I trust you remember Adriana?"
"Yes, sir. We've met before," Gerald said with a smile.
"Good to see you again," she said. "Did you write his speech for today?"
Gerald bit his lower lip. "Yeah, although this one won't be exciting. Pretty standard stuff."
Adriana sensed the president's smile, recalling their previous conversation.
The convoy started moving, wrapping around the long driveway and out onto Pennsylvania Avenue.
Riding in the president's limo presented a whole new world to Adriana. Every time she'd been in Washington, the traffic had been a nightmare. The stoplights only seemed to last for a few seconds before changing, and with so many people in one place — many of them tourists — the streets were constantly clogged.
For the first time, Adriana experienced an almost nonstop ride through the city. The motorcade passed historic buildings and monuments, the National Archives, the Smithsonian, and dozens of other impressive buildings as it wound its way through the district.
Adriana had always been impressed by the nation's capital. It stood as a symbol of power and balance in a world often dominated by chaos.
After 10 minutes, the motorcade rolled to the entrance of one of the older hotels in Washington. A green-and-red-striped awning stretched out over a red carpet leading to a pair of glass doors. A doorman in a uniform and white gloves stood waiting by the door with a pleasant smile. Adriana imagined the man had been thoroughly searched before allowing him to go about his business.
Secret Service flooded the area under the awning. Six men took up positions on both sides of the red carpet as the doorman opened the entrance. Two more men in black suits and sunglasses went through the door and waited inside.
"Shouldn't you go in through a back door or something like that?" Adriana said as the president flattened his suit jacket and prepared to exit the limo.
"You'd think so," he said. "But awnings help give a little extra security in case of snipers. It limits a potential shooter's field of view."
"Ah." She hadn't thought about that before and would probably always think of it whenever she saw an awning.
One of the Secret Service guys ducked his head into the limo. "Ready, sir?"
Dawkins nodded and followed the man out of the car with Adriana and Gerald tucked close behind.
The president shook the doorman's hand as they passed through the entrance and into the hotel lobby.
Marble tile stretched out from one end of the grand room to the other. An opulent chandelier hung from the ceiling. The fixture featured hundreds, maybe thousands, of crystals shimmering around dozens of electric candle lights.
The lobby was clear of people except for the concierges working behind the desks. Police officers stood in every corner, keeping their eyes open for potential danger.
The president and his entourage walked quickly through the lobby, passing marble pillars, giant ferns in ornate vases, and a row of hotel staff standing at attention against the right-hand wall.
The procession went down a short series of steps into a lower level and then turned right into the first pair of open doors where another pair of men in black suits stood guard.
Dawkins gave them a curt nod as he passed through the doorway into a grand ballroom to the sound of "Ladies and gentlemen, the president of the United States."
"Hail to the Chief" started playing through a public address system, and everyone in the room stood up and started clapping.
Adriana suddenly felt overwhelmed. Hundreds of people in tuxedos and fancy dresses stared in her direction as she followed the president and his security detail through the path winding around the tables.
She leaned over toward Gerald as they made their way to the front of the room. "I feel very underdressed," she said, referring to her black pants, white polo, and the black overcoat she donned.
"Don't worry about it," Gerald whispered. "They're all looking at him anyway. No one ever notices us."
When the procession reached the front of the room, the president ascended three steps onto a stage. Gerald gently tugged on Adriana's arm, pulling her to the side of the stage where they would stand during the speech.
Adriana was relieved to be out of everyone's line of sight and relaxed a little, looking around the room at all the people.
The music came to a stop, and the applause died down.
Dawkins began his speech by thanking everyone for coming. Then he went straight into the meat what he had to say.
"What is this thing anyway?" Adriana whispered to Gerald.
"Founders brunch," Gerald said. "Most of the people in this room are entrepreneurs. They're business people from Washington, Virginia, Delaware, and Maryland."
"Delmarva?"
Gerald raised an eyebrow. "I've never liked that term," he said with a quiet chuckle.
The two hushed as the president continued talking about contributions to the local economy, keeping taxes low for businesses, and everything that had come about as a result of the efforts of everyone in the room.
Adriana's eyes panned the large chamber. Some of the faces were young, easily in their early twenties. Some were much older, covered in wrinkles and gray hair. No one looked like a threat, and every person in the place sat almost perfectly still as they listened to the president's speech.
Maybe Sean was wrong about the threat to kill Dawkins. It was rare, she had to admit, but now and then Sean was incorrect about things. Usually, that was a bad thing. In this instance, however, she was hoping that was the case.
Her head slowly moved from left to right as she continued searching the room. Secret Service men were stationed in several places along each wall, separated by police officers. All of them were doing the same thing as Adriana: watching for trouble.
She noticed a subtle movement in the back of the room. It came from high up on the wall where one of the spotlights shone brightly, casting its yellowish-white beam on the podium where the president stood.
Was Adriana's mind playing tricks on her? It had to be. She thought she saw a long, black silhouette just behind the spotlight. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to focus.
The spotlight was set in a square opening fifteen feet up from the floor. Access to the control room and the spotlight must have been through a side door outside the ballroom.
She returned her gaze to the opening and peered into it. Her eyes widened suddenly. There it was again. A long, black tube moved to the left with fluid, robotic motion.
"Oh no," she said.
Adriana looked at the president. He was still talking about the benefits of entrepreneurship and how it made the economy go, providing jobs and building a strong foundation for the country.