Thirty minutes later I was in the room with the girls, watching the doctor looking at the baby heartbeat on the monitor. The wait lasted until 0300 when Takeo Lee Jones made his appearance and presence known to the world by natural birth. Lorrie was the breathing coach; they had taken the classes together.

Takeo had been Ching Lee’s father’s name; it meant warrior hero in Japanese folk lore. Ching Lee never knew her real father and mother, they were both killed in an auto accident when she was an infant. Her foster parents died while she was in college.

It was 0500 by the time everything was settled and the pictures were taken with the proud parents, all six of us. Takeo was a pro in the pictures with the cutest little natural smile for all of them. He seemed to be a happy baby already and didn’t mind the fuss of being handed around for pictures.

I tried to suppress the tears but was not totally successful as I held the bundle of joy. My family was growing and I was proud. I wondered how it was possible to be happy and sad at the same time. I was sad that I could not have a baby but overjoyed that my mates were able to and that I was able to call them family.

I sent Jake and Mindy a text with a picture, “Hi Uncle Jake and Aunt Mindy, my name is Takeo and I just arrived this morning. Seven pounds ten ounces, twenty one and a half inches tall.”

Ching Lee and Takeo were going to stay in the hospital until later this afternoon or possibly tomorrow morning.

To piss off the hospital staff, I ordered a private room and JBG security would be stationed inside the door and in the hallway. The former Mossad ladies could do the honors and were on the way.

The media reporter from one of the Baltimore stations was standing back at the main entrance giving a report. They were covering a multi casualty shooting with a multi car accident and car chase. We had to walk by them to get to the Suburbans.

I had seen the reporter at several news conferences. I walked behind her and waved the two finger rabbit ears behind her head and then walked away, giving the cameraman a thumbs up as I walked out of the camera view.
The camera man immediately abandoned his reporter and started yelling, “Ambassador Jones, Ambassador Jones, interview, a quick interview just a few words. Please.”

The please did it; I stopped and faced the camera man and reporter – Sharon King from WDDA Baltimore – as she finally realized what was going on and raced to catch up.

“Ambassador Jones, have you been injured, are you ill?” Sharon asked.

“No, everything is fine. We just had an addition to my immediate family; Ching Lee gave birth this morning to a beautiful boy. Lorrie is due any day now. Soon our house will be filled with the voices and love from little ones,” I replied.

“The Washington Mill is reporting that you have been offered another position in the President’s inner circle. Are you going take it?” she asked.

“You should know I don’t respond to rumors. If such an offer were to be made at that level it would be classified until the administration decided to release the information and I would not talk about it anyway,” I replied.

“You are scheduled to testify on the Hill today; is this the last time as Director of the task force?” she asked.
“Yes, I may have to come back and clear up some loose ends but things are winding down,” I replied as I turned and stepped into the Suburban.

With dozens of pictures on my phone, my security team carried me to the White House.

After showing the pictures, Ben and I fell into the task at hand until General Ingram made his appearance at my door.

“Did you have a chance to look over the proposal?” he asked.

“Yes we did. It looks OK, however there are a couple points that Jenny, Marcy and Robert want clarified. I will bring the questions with me tomorrow,” I replied.

“What am I to do with the ten cobras?” I asked.

“Ah, they did send them. Six of them are to be delivered to Tel Aviv through your normal contract terms. Contact agent David to set up the delivery terms. The other four can be just stored or you can play with them if you have qualified pilots. I am sure you will be able to find a good use for them. Don’t send any parts to Tel Aviv, just the helicopters,” the General replied.

After lunch I was to be in the Senate for one last short meeting. The event had been choreographed by the White House. It was a photo op of cooperation between the White House and the Hill with me as that vision of cooperation. This op was starting at the bottom of the steps.

Congress was winding down for a spring break so there were a lot of hearings going on, all trying to get TV time. As a result there was a rush of hearings inside with various groups on the capital steps also vying for TV time to make a statement outside.

The Secret Service limo dropped me and six Secret Service agents off at the base of the steps where there were six capital police waiting.

The protesting groups were very vocal. The thing the capitol police, DHS and the Secret Service did not know was that they had been infiltrated with some violent members of groups supporting Syria, Iran, Turkey, PLO, and other factions.

As soon as I saw the mix of protester and the signs they were carrying I was concerned; another thing were the black armbands some of them were wearing as well as the hoodies and face masks they were wearing. The temperatures were nowhere near cold enough to need them.

I had only made a few steps with the media leading the way when the assorted groups became one large group. They were now yelling and screaming about everything, including the supposedly torture of the Iranian prisoners and other dissatisfactions with the administrations hard tactics against terrorism.

Protest sign posts suddenly became weapons and aluminum baseball bats appeared. The capital police and Secret Service were in need of help.

I turned just in time to be able to offhand a bat swung at me. The swinger was not as lucky as I retaliated. First a karate chop across the bridge of the nose caught him, her or it off guard; then a palm thrust as hard as I could onto the end of the broken nose and it went down like a rock; it would not be getting back up.
I moved to block the next one headed my way; it too was masked and swinging a bat.

A throat chuck with my right fist, not once but twice, as I held the bat at bay. It too was finished as I heard the gurgle as it tried to breathe; unless the medics showed up quickly to cut in a trachea tube, it was dead.
As I looked around the six Secret Service men were holding their own; they made regular trips to Fort Smith for training as did all the Secret Service. The six capital police weren’t fairing as well.

In my sight two of the capital police were down on the steps and more masked demonstrators were getting ready to use their heads for batting practice. There was only one way to save both of them.

I double tapped both of the batters with my Glock 40 cal. No one was going to help either of them. After the attacks we had changed ammo from plain hollow points to the Mag-tech personal defense Hyrdra-Shock rounds; when hitting something they were designed to split into four large hi-energy pieces. At ten feet, a dozen surgeons wouldn’t be able to save them even if they were here now.

By now reinforcements were arriving from all directions. The rest of the masked protesters were quickly wrestled to the ground as other protesters tried to scatter.

I gathered up my six Secret Service agents; two were going to need medical help for minor injuries.

“Let’s get into the Senate building before something else happens. You can go see the Congressional doctors,” I said as I hustled with them up the steps.

The choreographed PR event had gone down the tubes in 4 minutes. The whole thing had been filmed for tonight’s 6 PM news that was now live and would be replayed as the headline the rest of the day. The only thing now was to see how the media spun the story.
Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.