Welcome to the Lounge

That Saturday morning in Georgetown started with cool, crisp air and partly cloudy skies. The rising sun danced across the Potomac, reflecting across the water like a blanket of diamonds. Birds gleefully chirped and pecked at the ground, and a gentle breeze rustled the trees. Cherry blossoms floated down creating a carpet of pink on the manicured grass lined sidewalks.

The old man with the timeworn face stood still outside the front door of his brick façade home and surveyed the scenes beyond the flower lined driveway. He could have been any other well off old man in a gray coat and wool fedora covering his winter-white hair going off to the office on any given day. Except he wasn’t any other man. He was the Speaker of the House.

In the driveway in front of him his limo idled with the back door open, and his assistant Bill Worley and three agents stood waiting for the man to enter the car. The Speaker gingerly slid in, followed by Worley, and an agent closed the heavy armored door. The day was going to be light, with a breakfast and a round of golf at the Langston.

The Speaker was a man of habit. His daily routine was predicable and discipled, and always started with Worley reviewing his schedule with him in the car on the way to the Capital. "Traffic is light this morning Sir. Should be no problem making your tee time." Said Bill.

"Also, I this came in last night." he said and handled the Speaker a note.

Little did he know that that note would propel him down a path that would change the ????