Larinda stopped at a rest area on Interstate 81 just inside Virginia’s southwest corner. The rain pelting the car, front, back, sideways, sounded as heavy as hailstones in an Oklahoma tornado. The noise was chaotic, intimidating, but she was oblivious to it. The reason: a brainstorm.
She keyed one more item into her disposable phone, was then able to scroll through all the info she ever wanted to know about Planned Parenthood in Virginia. Locations in Blacksburg, Roanoke, Charlottesville, Richmond, Falls Church, Hampton. Places where babies were killed on a daily basis. Three locations were on her route to D.C. Forget making the Capitol tonight, she needed to make time for this. Two hours to the first address, in Blacksburg. She would arrive by nightfall.
A suitcase, two gym bags and a hanging garment bag occupied the back seat. A carpenter’s canvas drop cloth covered the cargo that sat between the back seat and the SUV’s tailgate, tucked taut and level with the bottom of the windows. Under the tarp, things she took from her offsite storage locker. What she’d need to eliminate the threat. Deadly-force things, some very good at leaving a large, deadly footprint. One could never be over-prepared or underpowered.
About IEDs: they were easy to build, and materials like Tannerite and Tovex explosives were legal and easy to acquire. Fully functioning flamethrowers, she knew from experience, were even easier.
Naomi and Deputy U.S. Marshal Edward Trenton exited the plane and entered Dulles International’s bright, skylighted Concourse C, Edward a step in the lead. Naomi’s laptop bag looped one shoulder, her purse the other. Her large rolling carry-on trailed her. Edward’s carry-on gym bag looked no bigger than a doll-sized backpack on his expansive back. His body language said he felt sheepish about the difference in their respective loads. She’d scolded him once for attempting to wrest her load from her. He’d get his chance at baggage claim.
At the arrival gate, a bronze-skinned man in a dark suit and a flattop haircut held a placard that read TRENTON in a bold black font. Edward reached him first and gave the man’s hand a hearty shake. “Deputy Marshal Abelson, good to see you again.”
Deputy Abelson’s smile widened. “My, my, my, you are still a monster, Toes. Looking good, sir.”
“Appreciate that, Hugh. Your Honor, this is Deputy U.S. Marshal Hugh Abelson.”
“An honor, Madam Justice,” the marshal said, shaking her hand. “Baggage Claim is this way, ma’am.” He tucked the placard under his arm and reached in the direction of her wheeled luggage. “Can I help you with your…?”
“Not required, Marshal, but thank you. Excuse me,” Naomi said, cutting him off to reach for her ringing phone.
She retrieved it from her purse. Checking the name of the caller, she pulled up short.
POTUS COS.
She veered right, headed into an airport gate empty of customers, and walked as far away as she could from the concourse corridor. Her two bodyguards followed her step for step. They kept their distance when she raised her hand. Tucking herself into a corner, she put the phone to her ear.
“Hello, this is Justice Coolsummer. Yes, I’ll hold for the president’s chief of staff.”
To Naomi, if the color black had a smell, that smell would have been diesel exhaust, probably from this specific truck. Out front of the airport terminal a black Ford F250 Super Duty four-door pickup sat idling curbside as they approached. The throbbing engine made it uncontestable as the baddest-sounding vehicle in line for passenger arrivals. Marshal Abelson shook hands and clapped shoulders with the driver. The driver quick-stepped to another waiting vehicle that soon reentered traffic.
“This truck is Deputy Marshal Abelson’s personal ride, Your Honor,” Edward explained.
“Oh. Yes. Thank you, Marshal Abelson,” she said. “A bit large, isn’t it?”
“We need the room, ma’am.” Edward eyed her baggage. “And the heavy duty shocks.”
Some sarcasm from Edward. Her trunk was filled with a hefty chunk of her home library, most of which were law books. When stacked, the baggage squared off two large luggage carts that had required help from her bodyguards and a porter to get it this far.
To Naomi, the pickup truck looked indestructible. Macho overkill, but she figured they meant well.
Marshals Trenton and Abelson hefted the luggage into the enclosed truck bed. Edward helped Naomi into the cab extension then settled himself into the front passenger seat. The truck entered traffic.
“Arrival time Georgetown, fifty-five minutes, ma’am,” Marshal Abelson said.
“Thank you, Marshal. Edward?”
“Yes, Your Honor?” The traffic absorbed them, Edward remaining attentive to it.
“Are you available tomorrow morning?”
“Yes, ma’am, I’ll be assisting you in getting you settled into your home.”
“Yes, of course, but that’s not what we’ll be doing. The call I took was from President Lindsay. She summoned me to the White House for Sunday breakfast. It seems I’ll meet her before I meet with the other justices later in the day. I’m making you my plus-one.”