Kalila leant close to Alicia. ‘I bet Dr King never dreamt that less than fifty years later there’d have been an African American president.’
‘Or a Latino one,’ replied Alicia, smiling at her friend. ‘America’s truly the Land of the Free. Anyone can be President – even my father!’
‘Over a quarter of a million people attended the event,’ continued the tour guide. ‘With crowds stretching down the mall as far as the eye could see, thus making it, at that time, the largest gathering of protesters in Washington DC’s illustrious history.’
‘Talk about one massive rock concert!’ Connor remarked as he gazed east across the impressive treelined expanse of the National Mall and tried to imagine such a number. There were no protests today, just flocks of tourists enjoying the sunshine beside the Reflecting Pool. In the distance, the Washington Monument speared the sky like a giant rocket ready to take off. The huge marble obelisk, the symbol of America’s capital, shimmered in the pool’s sky-blue waters and gave the illusion that the monument was twice its normal height.
‘Wonderful, isn’t it?’ remarked Alicia.
Connor nodded in agreement, although in his mind he was actually thinking this was the worst possible place to be on a Saturday morning. Not because the view wasn’t stunning but because Alicia was so vulnerable on the open steps. She was literally a sitting target. There was no cover if some madman took a potshot at her. No place to hide if she was attacked. Hundreds of tourists milled around and any one of them could be carrying a knife or a gun.
Connor almost wished he’d never done his bodyguard training. It would be far easier to sit there in blissful ignorance of the countless hidden dangers surrounding them. At least then he could relax. But his assignment meant that he had to remain on constant alert, his nerves wound tight as a guitar string. Connor looked across at a slim blonde-haired woman wearing sunglasses and carrying a pocket tourist guide. She too seemed to be enjoying the view. But every so often she’d glance in their direction.
But Connor wasn’t alarmed. He recognized her as Agent Brooke, one of several women on Alicia’s PES team. Other agents, including Kyle, were dotted around the Lincoln Memorial steps and along the edge of the Reflecting Pool, all within sight line of the President’s daughter and each keeping a low profile so as not to draw attention to her presence. But Connor knew the strain the agents must be under because he was feeling it too – the unpredictability of the situation, the uncertainty of the environment, the constantly changing dynamics of the crowd. No wonder the Secret Service had a hard time walking the thin line between the need for protection and the need for their Principal’s privacy.
‘Let me take a picture of you,’ Alicia suggested to Connor. ‘This is the tourist spot.’
‘Why don’t I take it?’ offered Kalila. ‘Then you can both be in the photo.’
‘Good idea,’ said Alicia, jumping to her feet and waving Connor over.
Connor grinned. It would be pretty cool to have a photo of him with the President’s daughter. At the very least, it would make Amir and Marc envious! Unlocking his mobile’s screen and clicking the camera app, he handed his phone to Kalila. Then he and Alicia posed on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial like every other tourist.
‘Get closer, you two,’ said Kalila, lining up the shot.
As she took several photos from different angles, Connor began to notice a low buzz of excitement among the tour group. He glanced over and saw that several people were no longer listening to the guide. Instead they were staring in their direction. Or, to be more accurate, in Alicia’s direction.
‘Is it really her?’ a large lady whispered to her equally bulbous husband.
‘Looks like the President’s daughter to me,’ he replied, holding up an image on his phone’s web browser and comparing it with the dark-haired girl on the steps.
An Italian man, overhearing their conversation, plucked up the courage to take a sneaky photo of Alicia, while poorly feigning a shot of the Reflecting Pool behind. Connor instinctively began to shield Alicia from their attention.
‘Shall we go?’ suggested Connor as a Japanese man now joined in, targeting his lens on the President’s daughter’s face with zero subtlety.
‘What’s the hurry?’ Alicia replied, still looking towards Kalila and oblivious to the rapidly growing interest. ‘You haven’t seen Lincoln’s statue yet.’
‘I can come back another day.’
By now the tour group had all turned towards the President’s daughter and were drawing nearer for a better shot. A tall man in a baseball cap and sunglasses was at Alicia’s side in an instant.
‘It’s time to move on,’ said Kyle, his statement not quite an order, but leaving no room for argument either.
Alicia now saw the reason and smiled apologetically at the tour group. ‘Sorry, I’ve got to go!’
As word spread and the crowd began to thicken, Secret Service agents seemed to materialize out of nowhere. They drew into a ‘closed box’ formation, creating a fluid cordon of protection round Alicia. Connor was by her side as the agents swiftly escorted her and Kalila down the steps and along the paved avenue towards the waiting limo. By the time they reached the car, the steps of the Lincoln Memorial were swarming with tourists, all attempting to catch a final glimpse of the President’s daughter.
Secure within the confines of the limo, Alicia sat fuming on the back seat.
‘Are you OK?’ Kalila asked as the car and its escort vehicle pulled away from the gathered crowd.
Alicia didn’t reply for a moment. She just stared through the darkened window at the passing traffic.
Then through clenched teeth, she said, ‘The Secret Service drive me up the wall! I mean, those people were only taking photos.’
‘I’m sure Kyle had a good reason for asking us to leave,’ defended Connor, glancing at the agent who sat on the other side of the glass privacy screen in the front passenger seat. He knew the Secret Service were used to dealing with crowds, so Kyle must have been alerted to another potential threat. In fact, he was certain something more than just a mob of tourists had spooked the agent.
‘But I have to put up with this all the time!’ Alicia cried, her frustration turning to anger. ‘At the slightest sign of … something … I don’t know what … I’m whisked away. Usually, just as I’m starting to relax or – God forbid – enjoy myself. But how can I, when agents are always around me, dictating my movements, controlling my social life? Ironic, isn’t it, Connor? I’m the First Daughter in the Land of the Free but I’m really a prisoner!’
‘The Secret Service are there for your protection,’ reminded Connor.
Alicia gave a weary sigh. ‘I know that, but why do they have to be so paranoid?’
‘I suppose it’s their job to be. So you – and your parents – don’t have to worry about your safety.’
‘But they’re robbing me of any life!’
‘Isn’t that a little extreme?’ Kalila said gently.
Alicia shook her head furiously. ‘Not at all! Can you imagine spending every waking moment under surveillance? Seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day. I can’t just walk out of the door, meet up with my friends and go shopping. Everything has to be planned in advance. And forget about having a boyfriend. If I stay out later than my father approves, he orders the Secret Service to bring me home! And you try saying goodnight to a boyfriend at the door of the White House with the glare of floodlights and a Secret Service agent by your side. There’s not much you can do except shake hands. And what sort of basis is that for a relationship? In fact, I’m amazed my father even let Connor stay in the White House!’