Ch.1- A Familiar Face

Alistair stood at the bottom of the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. It struck him how people managed to twist history around a murdered leader. It wasn't just the Americans. He wondered to himself how people might remember him after his own demise. The truly sobering part was how likely that was to happen. Of course, he thought, death comes to everyone. That's how he had decided to think of it long ago: don't fight the inevitable; some things simply can't be fought.

He had somewhere else to be, of course. He should have been taking a tour of the Whitehouse as Grady Hopkins. Alistair was actually unsure, as it were, why he wasn't there. Perhaps it was jetlag that made him feel more like taking a walk. Perhaps it was his curiosity. One day, perhaps, he would know. For now, the fact was that he was here, at this monument to a dead President, rather than where he was supposed to be, with the living one.

Eyeing the statue of the long-dead American, Alistair wondered to himself what the man had really been like. A shrewd politician, no doubt, and definitely a level-headed fellow. But Alistair wondered how much of the man's true character had been lost to the legend. It was strange. He could almost feel a pang of regret for the man Abraham Lincoln might have been. It was silly, of course. Lincoln, if he was in some afterlife, surely didn't care at all. And if not, well....the statue didn't seem to mind its lot.

Alistair turned to go. He had seen enough today. After all, this job would have him in America's capital for a while yet, and he would surely have plenty of time to admire the architecture later. Walking back in the direction of his temporary apartment to join another tour, it was only by chance that he nearly ran into a trio of teenage boys in private school uniforms that was is a great hurry to get somewhere. Alistair’s eyes followed them. They were too old to be so excited over the monuments, even if they were dressed like pricks.

Soon, his question was answered. The trio surrounded a very annoyed, very cute girl in the same uniform. Ah. The girl looked vaguely familiar, but Alistair couldn’t place her for all his efforts. Still, he wouldn’t recognize many American girls, and that was enough to keep him watching as she exchanged a few icy words with them. It wasn't clear exactly what she said, but from the blushing it drew from the apparent leader of the trio, it must have been pretty gutsy.

Suddenly, the offended party advanced on the lone girl, who backed up, looking around for someone. Alistair raised an eyebrow, walking slowly toward the confrontation. He'd seen that look before. She was expecting a bodyguard, or someone who acted as one.

Hoping to avoid personal involvement, Alistair looked around himself for someone who seemed to be coming to her aid. He could make out no such person, and he was close enough now to hear one of the trio addressing the poor girl.

"Not so tough by yourself, huh Zoe?" he taunted.

"Yeah," another sneered. “Whatcha going to do if you’re all alone?"

Finally walking up behind them, Alistair smiled to himself. This would be fun, if a little foolish on his part.

"So sure she's alone?" he asked, letting a pinch of danger creep into his tone.

All three of the offenders jumped and spun around. Alistair smiled at them, partly for show, but mostly in amusement. The eldest of the group managed to compose himself.

"Who the hell are you?" he snapped, trying his best to sound threatening.

Alistair leaned closer, meeting the hothead's eyes with his best unsettling stare.

"Someone you don’t want to piss off." Alistair replied, letting his voice stay neutral, and subsequently cold.

"Look,” the boy said, imitating Alistair’s light British accent. “ maybe you ought to clear out, old chum, 'cause in America, we throw real punches."

Alistair stepped closer, right into his face. "Oh? Try it, schoolboy." he whispered.

Uncertainty flickered through the boy's eyes. His friends had stepped back. He seemed to be trying to decide his next move when a voice from behind them all yelled. "Hey!"

The boy's eyes widened, and he and his friends scattered, running across the plaza away from the girl and Alistair. Turning slowly, Alistair raised an eyebrow again as a harried-looking man in a suite came running up, watching the boys flee.

After a moment, the man turned to the only two remaining. Addressing Alistair, he asked tersely. "Who are you, kid?"

Considering this man was probably the bodyguard the girl had been looking for earlier, Alistair decided to play this one cool.

"A friend, if you're looking after this girl's safety. May I ask who they were?" Alistair said, gesturing towards the direction the trio had fled in.

The man seemed to calm down a little. "Just some punks. Look, kid, I got nothin' against you, but I’m gonna need you to le-"

"It's fine, John." the girl interrupted stepping forward for the first time.

"Ma'am." John said, standing back respectfully.

The girl addressed Alistair. It was only when she looked up at him that he realized she was short for her age.

"Are things different where you come from?" She asked. "Because people here just look the other way."

Alistair shrugged. “I don’t think people are much different, no matter where you find them.”

She fixed him with an intense stare, which he met with his own. This girl seemed to be evaluating what he would do next, or maybe what she should do next. A few heartbeats passed between them, and Alistair realized then that she was a law student, most likely looking to become a prosecutor, from the way her gaze nearly unsettled him.

Finally, she sighed. “I guess I should thank you, but you shouldn’t have wasted the time. Those guys never actually do anything.”

When Alistair didn’t respond, she pressed on. “I’m Zoe.” She said, her voice diplomatically pleasant. She offered a hand.

“Alistair.” He replied, shaking her hand while stealing a glance at the school emblem on the shoulder of her uniform. Andrews Presidential Law Academy. It should have hit him right there, but he didn’t put the pieces together, even though he was vaguely familiar with the American President’s brand new Law School.

Zoe smiled, an expression that almost made him smile in response. It was too bad she was a law student. He would have enjoyed being her friend. “Well, I really should get going.” She said in a tone that was almost apologetic. “Our school group is already late getting back.”

Alistair nodded. “Maybe I’ll see you around.” He offered.

“Yeah, I hope so.” She replied. With another smile, she hurried off across the plaza, with John following closely behind.

After he was sure she was a good distance away, Alistair began walking back towards his apartment. On the way, he pulled out his phone. A few moments later, a voice on the other end picked up. “Hey, Al, how’s the job going?” the voice asked sleepily.

“Still in bed, Marv?” Alistair asked.

“You don’t pay me enough to be awake right now. Do you know what time it is in Singapore?”

“No. Look, I need you to run a check on a girl.”

Marv paused. “A girl?”

Alistair rolled his eyes. “You know, those things that you sleep with every time you do to that bar in-“

“Yeah, yeah, who?” Marv snapped, clearly not wanting to talk about it.

“Her name is Zoe. I don’t have a last name. She goes to the President’s new law school in D.C.”

Marv was silent for a moment. “I’ve got you a last name. How about Andrews?”

“That’s the school.” Alistair reminded him patiently.”

“Yeah, I know. The school named after President Phillip Andrews, whose daughter Zoe Andrews, a law student at her daddy’s new school.”

Alistair nearly shot himself right there for being so stupid. Of course he recognized her. He had seen her a dozen times: on the news with her father.

“Damn.” He said, more to himself than Marv. “Then I need one more thing.”

Marv sighed. “Let me guess…”

“Get me into that school.”