EPILOGUE
From a private guesthouse in Bermuda . . .
"Just in, folks . . . today is a day that will live in infamy, one possibly more horrific than all the others before it. Our national monuments were under siege by a direct terrorist hit. The White House sustained what could be irreparable damage. Hundreds, possibly thousands, of lives were lost, including workers, staff, pedestrians, and tourists alike. It was only by an act of God that our president and first lady were not in residence at the time this tragic bomb blast toppled the Washington Monument and sent it careening into the building. Our national correspondent is on the scene, where a van loaded with weaponry has been found and a significant section of the Metro system was destroyed and used as a makeshift bomb that had the kill trajectory that, it is believed, ultimately toppled the monument in this diabolical plot."
Carlos clicked off the remote control, silencing the news; Damali simply closed her eyes.
"Now what, baby?" she murmured and drew in close to him.
"Who the hell knows?"
