“You do know that your phone has been ringing?” Rose spoke softly.
Clarissa looked at her and then down at her favorite Hereu shoulder bag. She’d had the wits to recover it from the locked car, but all she could hear were more police sirens as they arrived to redirect the traffic disaster of Columbus Circle. Helos and jets flew overhead in constant patrol.
The four of them sat on a pair of benches by the Reflecting Pool in Union Square. Upside down in the still waters, the curve of the Capitol Dome glowed a b****y red. With the sun down, it shimmered with reflected firelight. Why couldn’t the jet have targeted there and taken out the House Intelligence Committee? Apparently that was too much to ask.
Across the water, that drunken sod Ulysses S. Grant sat atop his bronze horse, facing th
