Seated within the luxury VIP suite on the south side of Husky Stadium, President Jordan Harwell had leaned forward in his seat at high noon when the referee signaled for play to begin. It had been many years since he had attended a game on the campus of his alma mater, and as the first President of the United States to hail from the Seattle area, President Harwell became a welcome an honored guest of the current University of Washington president.

President Harwell had been lucky with the weather for his long awaited return to campus, as the cloudless day was unusual for mid-November in the Puget Sound area of western Washington. On such a day the views from Husky Stadium and the adjoining University of Washington campus were difficult to match, and President Harwell knew that all too well. Just to the east of the stadium stood Lake Washington, which had for decades been used by countless fans for access to the stadium. They would travel in, and then moor their various watercrafts near the shoreline, to enjoy a different style of tailgate festivities before coming on land for the game. Beyond the lake, the distant mountains of the Cascade Range could be seen with the snowcapped peaks revealing evidence of the oncoming winter. To the west beyond the city and Puget Sound suburbs was the region of Olympic National Park, which formed a magnificent towering rift of mountains and forested land between the sound and the vast Pacific Ocean. Finally to the south was Mount Rainer, which stood sentinel as the state’s highest peak at well over fourteen thousand feet. It didn’t much matter where you were located in the Seattle area, if the skies were clear, then the majesty of the mountain and the views in all directions were difficult to ignore.

Throughout the years of his undergraduate studies at the University of Washington Jordan Harwell had attended many of the home games, but those opportunities faded when he continued on with the more time demanding law school at the same institution. Years later when finances and his work schedule would allow for it, he purchased season tickets to attend the games with members of the family whenever possible. Unfortunately, once he entered the political arena of state office in Olympia and then federal positions in Washington D.C., he could again no longer spare the time.

As President Harwell sat back to relax while play was halted for an injured player, he remembered how those season seats, like the ones he had scrambled for during his years as a student, were far less luxurious than the VIP box to which he currently occupied. Now after many years, he could finally witness a Husky game in its entirety within the warm and hospitable climate of a comfortable suite. At least that’s what he thought. Not yet halfway through the first quarter of action, and with the home town team already staking a 3-0 advantage over the visiting California Golden Bears, a secret service man entered the suite to confer with the lead agent of the Presidential protective detail.

After listening to a brief description of what had transpired, the lead agent, Heath Bishop, snapped his head to the right in order to look directly into his subordinate’s eyes. Then he quietly asked, “Has this information been confirmed?”

Matching the quiet tone of his supervisor, the agent replied, “Yes sir. It has been confirmed.”

“And how long ago did this happen?”

“Information is sketchy, but I would say about twenty-five minutes ago sir.”

“Twenty-five minutes ago?”

“Yes sir, perhaps even longer ago than that.”

After looking at his watch to learn that it was twelve fifteen, agent Bishop asked, “Why are we just hearing about it now?”

“Sorry sir, but as I said, the information is sketchy.”

With a stern grimace on his face, agent Bishop then spoke into the microphone hidden within the left wrist area of his suit. The tone was soft, but his words spoke loudly. He said, “We have a situation that requires immediate attention. Have the car ready to move in less than two minutes, and notify Air Force One to prepare for emergency evacuation. We are on our way down with POTUS.”

In his ear piece he heard the reply of, “Understood sir, POTUS will be moving to Air Force One for an emergency evacuation.”

Then moving forward, agent Bishop reluctantly placed his hand on the right shoulder of the President and whispered, “Sir. I’m sorry to interrupt because I know how much you have been looking forward to this game, but we must leave immediately.”

Understanding that the subject would not have been broached without just cause, President Harwell replied, “What’s wrong Heath?”

“Sir I can brief you on the details once we get to the motorcade, but I feel that this location is no longer safe for you. Now please, let’s go right now!”

Turning to look directly at agent Bishop who had been on his personal detail since before the election of two years prior, President Harwell could tell that the man originally from Lake Tahoe Nevada was deadly serious. Motioning him closer, the President said softly, “Alright Heath. I understand that you have a well-defined protocol to follow, and I trust you to do whatever is necessary to guarantee my safety. That being said, let’s keep this as quiet as possible to avoid a panic.”

“I understand sir. Now please, let’s go.”

Leaning to his left as he stood, President Harwell reached out a hand of thanks toward his host. Then he said softly, “This is probably nothing, but my security detail needs me to accompany them. I will return as soon as possible, or call you later to explain.”

Now also standing, the befuddled and rather arrogant University of Washington President, Dr. Edward Plummer, struggled to reply. Then he said, “Well of course Mr. President, but whatever it is I encourage you to stay. I’m sure that the facilities within this VIP suite, or certainly those of my university, can provide you with whatever you may need.”

Knowing full well that the statement was grievously incorrect for the present moment, agent Bishop whisked President Harwell out of the VIP suite and was soon joined by two other secret service agents. The four of them made their way through the superstructure of the facility and toward the awaiting motorcade at a brisk pace, while other agents that they passed along the way maintained a vigilant watch on their surroundings. Within minutes they were clear of Husky Stadium and the surrounding grounds without the majority of those in attendance being any the wiser. Unfortunately the safe haven of the President’s plane, Air Force One, was still several miles away at Boeing Field just south of downtown Seattle.

The Boeing Field facility had the tremendous benefit of possessing a lengthy runway capable of satisfying the needs of any aircraft, as well as being a complete and separate entity from SEATAC, the region’s largest international airport just a few miles further to the south. Simply put, the facility was useful as the preferred site for certain private business or political needs in that substantial ground and air traffic could be avoided with relative ease. That of course meant nothing in the current situation if the motorcade didn’t get the President to the plane in one piece. Although he had sent advance word to begin the pre-flight sequencing for a departure that would be several hours prior to the intended plan, and in spite of the obvious benefits and the shorter distance to that field from their current location, agent Bishop wouldn’t begin to relax his posture until President Harwell was safely aboard and Air Force One had taken flight.