A Heartbeat Away - Michael Palmer [47]
Her proximity to him was distracting, even more so when she shared that not long after she left him on the Keys, she had finally accepted that she wasn’t in love with her fiancé and had broken off their engagement.
“So, what’s happened since then?”
“Not that much. I’ve become a paragon of serial monogamy. But I remain eternally optimistic, just like always.”
Griff’s pulse accelerated as they neared Statuary Hall. He became determined to share his feelings with her … as soon as the time was right.
Along the wall to their left, racks of comfortable clothing, probably from local department stores, were being sorted by Capitol police in preparation for distribution.
“Angie, it’s not going to be a pretty sight in there. People are very anxious. Some of them are already getting ill. Earlier a group of them charged at me and tore one of my protectors’ suits. Just stay focused and move ahead steadily. If people try and get near you, we’ll stop them.”
If she heard him, she did not respond. The moment they came through the archway bordered by the statues of Jefferson and Washington, she fell off the pace and stopped just inside the expansive room.
“Angie, don’t get distracted now!” Griff whispered urgently. “Keep moving. Dammit, keep moving!”
But Angie remained where she was, surveying the frightening, pathetic scene. She took in the people sprawled out upon the floor, and those slumped over with their backs leaning up against the wall. Then she knelt down beside one particularly distressed woman. The woman, in her forties and probably quite pretty, was wearing a black evening dress that had been torn in places against the oppressive body heat in the hall. Her hair was disheveled, and makeup was smeared across her face. The large amethyst brooch that had held her neckline together had come open. Her back was pressed to the wall, and she was sobbing uncontrollably.
Seemingly without thought for herself, Angie knelt down, wiped the woman’s makeup and perspiration away with a piece of cloth, smoothed her hair, and then, to Griff’s horror, dexterously refastened the brooch.
“We’re here to do what we can to help,” Angie said softly.
The woman regained an ort of composure.
“I’m frightened,” she sobbed.
“I know. I know. You’re going to be okay. What’s your name?”
“Emily. Emily Wells. My husband’s a congressman from Utah. First term. He was ill tonight and gave me his ticket.”
“Well, why not try and do what you can to help some of the others, Emily. It will make the time pass more quickly. I’m Angela Fletcher, from The Post. This man behind me is a world-famous virologist. He’s here to help figure this whole thing out.” Angie took the woman’s hand. “Be strong. There are a lot of people working to get you out of here.”
“Th … thanks.”
Angie helped Emily Wells to her feet and guided her over to where several others were dispensing rations.
Griff saw that some of those approaching them from the left were among the group who had come at him earlier. Quickly he led Angie away, but not before she could reassuringly pat several people on the shoulder and help one older, disoriented man find a bottle of water. The soldier whose biosuit had been torn moved in and helped control the angry, frustrated crowd.
“You’re doing fine, ma’am,” he said to Angie, in response to her unasked question about him.
“Remember what I said,” Griff implored her as they retreated from the hall. “Don’t get distracted.”
“There are so many of them.”
“That’s only one of three rooms. We’re going to do everything we can to help them, Ange, but you won’t be able to help anybody if they tear your suit like they did to that poor soldier back there. Now, let’s go see Allaire.”
“What did you tell him that got him to bring me in?”
They were led into the waiting area by the Hard Room.
“I told him that you were here as a neutral party to document my movements. Our deal is that even if I don’t come up with anything, he’ll pardon me provided