The innkeeper had brought down a small yet sturdy mace on the oaken structure before her. ‘Oi! You want to spill each other’s blood, do it outside... Just remember the last time you decided to do so, Ern!’ The fellow, Ern, made a sour face. Whatever incident the owner of the Braidwood Inn was referring to, seemed not to have tuned out too well. His free hand touched his leg close by the knee as memories returned. ‘And you…!’ She pointed her mace at the Dunmar woman, intent on keeping her voice. The Marshal broadly smiled, but got right back to business..."For the next part of the discussion, we need Mike Mahoney," he explained, and the Secret Service psychologist entered the room, right on cue."At the very start of this operation," the Marshal went on to explain, "The Vice President of the United States directed that a group of NSA personnel who were either already resting, were due for rest, or who were part of a select group who refuse to be rested, should be teamed together and. More

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