Frank, Eric and Ben followed Marcy – who had met them at the elevator – and stopped in front of me.

“We came to offer condolences and help to the girls; we never expected this. Does the President know? I just talked to him a few minutes ago, he didn’t say anything,” Frank asked.

“Only two people know in the leaky bucket known as the White House and only a very few here. I thought that we could turn this into a positive to collect information. So far it looks really good; they have thrown caution to the wind rejoicing over my demise,” I said.

“Ben, tomorrow you will be emailed names and numbers for the task force to work on from a G-mail account with a sender of ‘one-pissed-off-bitch’. Oh, by the way; you will also be named temporary chairperson just in case the information keeps coming and I need to lie low for a couple days or am so sore I cannot wear a vest before I have a miraculous recovery” I said.

“You know all the networks are saying you are dead,” Eric said.

“My team did a great job getting me out of there, leaving the images we wanted the media to broadcast. That gives them something to talk about; we just need to make sure no one official confirms I’m dead. Troy already has a statement to read tomorrow morning that he and I worked out a few minutes ago,” I replied.

“Just WHEN was this plan put together?” Eric asked.

“While I was hanging upside down in the seat belt. Just before the truck bomb exploded and rolled the body upright,” I replied.

“You didn’t get a scratch?” Ben asked.

“I’m black and blue and sore all over, Doc Burns is coming to check me out in a few minutes,” I replied.

“You are not really going to let that guy work on you, are you? You trust him that much after what he has helped you do?” Ben asked.

“Ben, you do not know even one percent of what he does for us,” I replied.

“That is one more thing I do not want to know anything about,” he said.

“You could write a book on what you do know and I could write an encyclopedia on what you do not know,” I replied.

We talked a while longer while the EIT team was working the intelligence. The screens were full of phone numbers and data. The terrorist had indeed thrown their normal caution out of the window. Some calls were 15 minutes long, giving Robert’s team time to fix locations and record the calls.

A VCATS call came in from South Korea, Ching Lee and Vicky were checking in on me again. It was a full room with Jake and Jason.

“We think we have found a building to convert into a dormitory for the men. It is a well built industrial building – three stories with a flat roof – that can be made into an outdoor recreation area. There are ten foot ceilings and is large enough that all forty men can have large accommodations; two rooms with a bath, if you want to spend that kind of money,” Vicky said.

“I have drawn a sketch and will meet with prospective contractors and the governing regulators tomorrow. The way I have it drawn up there will be a buffer of 10 feet on the inside to meet your security requirements. It will be a building inside a building,” Jake said.

“How are you feeling? ZNN has been playing the attack in every cycle; they now have the traffic camera footage, the truck bomb explosion was horrendous. Your Suburban was pushed and rolled twice by the blast,” Jake said.

“The Doc is on his way down. I will know in a few minutes, I’m sore all over, but everything works OK,” I replied.

“While I have everyone here, what is your opinion about promoting Cindy to a Vice President position reporting to Vicky, with all the embassy security administrators reporting Cindy? That will free up Vicky’s time to start visiting embassies and devote more time to special OPS,” I asked.

“I am thinking you have some special plans for the OPS team,” Jenny said.

“You think and I know it,” I replied.

The Doc arrived; Cindy was told to bring him down. No one upstairs knew that I was alive, including Cindy.
After the shock, Marcy offered Cindy the new Vice President position. Mark would be offered a VP position reporting to Ching Lee for the college administrators.

The group followed the Doc and me to the meeting room so he could check me out. As I striped, I started to realize just how sore I was.

“Oh my God,” Jenny said not so softly and then she took a picture of me. I had her take some modesty pictures with my arm across my breast and hand covering my crotch, getting one picture each of my left and right side.
I was horribly black and blue across my abdomen where the lap belt had held me. There was another bruise that went from my pelvis across my breast and over my shoulder from the shoulder belt. Then there was a huge ball sized ugly bruise on my right thigh. The only thing it could have come from was the seat belt latch.

My sides were blue and I wondered what from, then I realized that most accidents are frontal hits that the belt holds. The Suburban had been slid sideways into the guardrail along the guardrail then rolled over several times. Then the violent force of the explosion slamming the body sideways into the seat belts and the roll.

All of this and I was wearing the heavy body armor. What did my men look like who were wearing standard body armor?
“Marcy; I want all the men sent to the Doc’s office tomorrow for complete checkups,” I instructed.

“Complete body MRI’s for all of them and you too,” Doc Burns added.

“Mine is going to have to wait a day or two,” I replied.

It was a long troubled night. I went to bed early after watching ZNN’s continuous coverage and latest speculation. The White House issued a short statement that only fueled the talking heads, “There will be a news conference at 9 AM to update today’s events.”

They were furious! No one would confirm anything for them and the leaky bucket went dry.

Alexandria Williams – our public relations specialist under Ching Lee – made a similar statement to the reporters that had crowed the lobby at 7PM.

“At this time JBG will make no statement on today’s events. Several of BJ’s immediate family are abroad on assignments and are returning home to participate in the crucial decision making processes that are required. We ask that you respect the family privacy.”

I could not get comfortable no matter how much I tried. Over the counter meds did nothing; I finally took some prescription meds. Doc Burns had written out a prescription in Jenny’s name so I would have something for me to take; I hate those kinds of meds.

I was up early – 6AM – and took a long hot shower. Jenny made breakfast for us while I was showering. Today I watched ZNN morning coverage as I was eating. Nothing had changed overnight.

There were interviews with the MSP and Transit Authority who spent their time explaining video in slow motion and discussing the number of dead terrorists and innocent people killed in the accidents and truck bomb. It was laughable when all they were asked was about me.

They could only answer with, “We have no confirmation that Ambassador Jones is deceased, all indicators lead us to believe she is.”

I went over to Robert’s office and listened to the data and calls that had been recorded yesterday afternoon and last night.

One call from the Prince’s satellite phone to the arms supplier was him bragging that he was not going to have to pay out the million dollars because the person had died in the one of the car assault teams.

The calls had dwindled down to a trickle near midnight and ceased all together by 0100. I was tired of hearing individuals patting themselves on the back for the attack on the convoy. The surprise was soon going to be on them.

It was now 1300 in Riyadh, home of the Prince. I was surprised he was not active on his satellite phone. Robert came in and had the same thoughts, even though he had dozens of files with names and numbers for the task force to check out today.

After a brief discussion and planning, we came up with a way to start the calls again.
It was time to light the fire, even if it was sooner than I wanted.

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.