Note: This is a work of FICTION! Although the areas this story takes place in are real; all of the landscapes depicted, the people described, and everything else this story uses to make it enjoyable reading for you are NOT REAL. As you read this story, try to remember:
THIS IS A NOVEL!
38. Pain-ting
The building was not fully cleared, but the service elevators were full with polystyrene to cover the desks, chairs, cabinets, lamps, and anything else could not be moved from the ravages of splattering paint. The best it could be called was controlled confusion, because more men were bringing up the covering, then were covering the furniture. The deadline was midnight, and the contractor stood to lose tens of thousands of dollars per hour if he went over. The big job started in the morning. Thousands of cans of paint were being shaken outside to make the color consistent, and then they were loaded onto pallets, numbered, and readied for the
morning.
There were two men that had a special job ahead of them. They had to get into the Attorney General's office, open the safe, find the package, destroy it, and slip back out, without being seen. They knew the chances of this operation going off, without a hitch, were highly improbable. However, the amount of money they were offered, to attempt this job was $10 million, and they could not turn it down, one way or the other. They had worked out two scenarios and if they did not have a chance at the first one, they could try the second. Either way, they were not to leave the building, without destroying that package. As long as that part of their job was successful, their families would get the money.
Painting began on time, and the work crews went to their assigned areas. Computer alarms in the basement of the building started going off immediately. Something had gone wrong with the identification implants in the painter's vests. Every one of them malfunctioned. When they were tested everything was fine. All work had to stop. Every painter had to stay exactly where they stood so they could be identified by the guards through their identification badges. It was a long and tedious process. The problem was not with the vests, the problem was in the protocol of the computers. Everyone went back to work, but three precious hours were lost.
The painters lived up to their reputations. They were professionals; they were meticulous, and they did their job extremely well. However, there was a trade-off, "time." You cannot paint the Mona Lisa haphazardly; nor can you paint an important office building and leave drips on the walls and areas uncovered. It has to be done right, and these people did it right the first time. Thankfully, they did not have to do the ceilings. The non-smoking rule in federal buildings kept the ceilings from turning yellow. Painting the ceilings would have added three days to the job. Rooms would have had to been evacuated, scaffolding brought in and the ceilings spray-painted. The mess would have been abominable.
During the first hour break, the painters ate their food quickly and then lie down to get some rest. When the second seven-hour shift started, they continued working well for the first three or four hours but then they started to lag until they barely could move, towards the end of their second seven-hour shift. The contractor knew that he had bit off more than he could chew. He decided to change the work schedule. He told his crew, as they were leaving the building, not to show up until 9 o'clock the next morning. There were cheers among the rank and file. There was no way they could work 15 hours, eat, cleanup, sleep six hours, and come back to work refreshed at 6 o'clock the next morning. They needed more time to recharge their batteries, and he gave them that time.
Their performance the next day showed it worked. They completed the third floor and moved up to the fourth floor. The two men strategically put themselves close to Fred's office door. While doing the trim around the doors, one of them cut the seal around his door, with a thin surgical blade that barely left a noticeable mark, picked the door lock, and moved slowly on to the side of the frame. The other man was on a ladder, doing the area above the door, and looked around to see if any of the guards had been looking in their direction. No one was, so he continued painting. He walked down the ladder to refill his bucket with paint, when he returned, he nodded to his compatriot. They slipped through Fred's door, and locked it. They took off their vests and kept them by the door to try to fool the computers that they were painting on the other side.
They checked the Attorney General's door for an alarm, and found none. One of them took out a device that looked like a cell phone. It was the listening device that could hear the tumblers of a safe clicking into place. They already knew what the combination of the safe was, but they had to attach this to the safe to protect the informant, whose name they did not know.
Clark Atwater insisted that Fred, Sharon and the girls spend the weekend at his mansion. He wanted to get to know Sharon and her daughters much better, find out how he could help the girls get in to college, and if they had any preferences. He also found out that he could not keep any secrets from them.
"Fred, these children of yours are dangerous. They are dangerous to themselves and to others. I am not saying this lightly. They could hear something they are not supposed to hear, and wind up in trouble because of it. We have to find a way to protect them."
"Sir, I have been their father for one week. I am just getting used to them. I have not even thought about the ramifications of their being telepathic. If you have any ideas on that subject, I am all ears."
"Annapolis, "The Naval Academy," not as midshipmen, unless they want to be, but at least someplace where they can be guarded at all times."
Sandy said "Sir, with all due respect and thanks for the offer, but there is no way I am going to the Naval Academy. Cindy and I can keep a secret. I am sure that you have agents that are young enough or look young enough that could guard us as we go through college. They could even play our boyfriends if you want. I would rather go to Georgetown, or the University of Maryland in College Park. If there is a College closer to where Fred and Mom are going to live we would not mind that either."
"Where are you going to live, Fred?"
"We have not gotten that far, Sir. It has only been one week, and we are still working on the divorce. I will work on the Nevada end this week, and also Virginia's marriage laws. If we can work both simultaneously, that will save us some time also. Sharon will start house shopping, but we do not know if we should look for a five bedroom, a four bedroom, a three-bedroom, or an efficiency apartment. Depending on where the girls are going to go to school, we will either have a house full of children, or be empty-nesters, before we know it."
"Fred, take my advice; if you can afford it, buy the biggest house you can find. Children have a habit of always coming home."
"Sir, do you remember what you told me about not spending all my money spoiling the ones I love?"
"Yes Fred, I take it back. I know there goes your nest egg."
"A new car, and a big house, thank you sir, your advice has led to my downfall."
"I did not tell you to go to Philadelphia to look at all the historical sites, and fall in love."
"I thought it was going to be a cheap weekend, sir. It was supposed to cost me $337.27."
"You wanted the director of the FBI to shoot you. Should I tell him to do it?"
One day Fred will remember to be out of arm's reach from Sharon hears something he says like that. The pain he felt in his left arm made his hand numb for several minutes as his friend and mentor laughed.
Sharon yelled, "You chased me. I wanted no part of you. I thought you were a stalker, do you remember. You had to show me your identification for me to even talk to you."
"Yes dear, I remember, but do you have to hit me so hard."
"I told you Fred, it is all the fury I have left over from my husband. If I had hit him, he would have killed me."
Julia Atwater walked into the room with a telephone in her hand. She said, "Clark, it is the President's office."
"This is Clark Atwater. Yes, I will hold for the President."
"Good afternoon Mister President, how might I be a service?"
