Carlos Jimenez pushed on the door leading to the employee restroom. The hinges squealed in protest, their cries of pain echoing off the alternating black and white tiles that covered the walls and the floor of the restroom. Jimenez marveled that no how matter how posh or swank the hotel was the employee restroom always looked like a restroom you’d expect to find in the middle of a deserted highway. He considered himself a professional on the subject of the greater metropolitan DC area employee restrooms, a connoisseur if you will, as he had seen more than his fair share during his fifteen years on Secret Service detail.

Those fifteen years had brought him through many dark and dingy lower worlds, the Hades of Washington, DC whose every entrance was guarded by the modern-day version of Cerberus the three headed dog. A simple plastic plaque that stated its warning in no uncertain terms.

“Employees Only - No Admittance.”

Special Agent in Charge Carlos Jimenez had little doubt he entered the very bowels of hell every time he crossed that plaque. And tonight was no different. Jimenez let the door swing fully open before absentmindedly wiping his fingertips on the side of his slacks. His time in the Secret Service brought him to more of these places than he cared to admit and being promoted to Special Agent in Charge only ensured that he was the first through every door.

His highly trained senses took in the room all at once, and he wished that just once he would open that door and find an employee restroom that was as pristine and polished, as the restrooms in the lobby. But then again, he thought, that is the true mark of insanity. Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.

Jimenez walked into the dimly lit, and fortunately unoccupied, bathroom. He hated having to kick people out, but then again, that was his job. There was no higher calling than keeping the world safe for democracy, but tonight, his job was to keep the bathroom safe for the Vice President of the United States.

He paced out to the center of the room, careful not to slip on the thin film of oily residue that was the unfortunate result of sharing a ventilation shaft with the kitchen. Tonight his job would be easier than usual. The management had posted a sign on the door stating that the restroom was going to be for the personal use of the Vice President of the United States and requested employees to fulfill their needs elsewhere. Despite the sign Jimenez still did his duty and entered the room ahead of anyone else.

The two urinals stood empty. But in stark contrast to the coloring of the walls and the floor they gleamed in brilliant porcelain white, the pungent odor of chlorine the only telltale sign to the cause of their cleanliness. Two of the stall doors stood open, with the middle stall closed and a crude handwritten sign stating “out of order” in blocky red letters taped to the door.

As the special agent walked past the broken stall he nearly did a double take as he thought he saw a shadow move underneath. He paused for only a moment and stared hard under the locked door. Just then a voice broke his concentration. He looked up to see the eager face of the youngest recruit ever to get Vice Presidential detail. An honor that, until this kid had come along, had been his.

“He said to let you know that he's had quite a bit to drink and he doesn't know how much longer he can hold it?”

Jimenez held up his hand silencing the recruit. He drew his automatic pistol and pointed silently at the locked bathroom stall. The recruit understood and drew his own service weapon and pointed it at the stall door.

Jimenez kicked hard at the door and the lock gave way with a shriek. The door slammed against the back wall of the empty stall.

Jimenez holstered his weapon and looked at the kid who had stolen his record.

“Let him know it’s all clear.”

Just as Jimenez finished his sentence a large well groomed man of six foot two pushed his way into the restroom. “God dammit Carlos. I swear, you seem to take longer every single time.”

“Just doing my job to keep you safe sir.”

The Vice President rushed past, unzipping his pants before he even made it to the urinal against the wall. “Now that I'm safe, how about a little privacy?”

Jimenez reached the door and pulled it closed behind him, “Of course sir. I'll be outside if you need anything.”

***

As soon as he heard the door close, Andrew quietly lowered himself down from the sling that had held him hidden under the wide imitation marble sinks along the wall opposite the urinals. The fentanyl had finally kicked in, and the pain had subsided enough that Andrew was able to concentrate on sneaking up behind the Vice President without alerting him that he was even there.

Five years ago if someone had told the highly decorated United States Army Special Forces Captain that, on an otherwise ordinary Thursday night, he would be hiding from the Secret Service in a filthy bathroom waiting to make a move against the second most powerful man in the United States, he would've told them to go do something unnatural with themselves. But cancer has a way of changing a man. Making him willing to do things he wouldn't normally consider.

The Vice President finished, zipped up his pants and turned around. Andrew understood the reason for the sudden look of confusion on the Vice President’s face. He was staring into the face of someone who looked exactly like him.

“What the...” was all the Vice President could utter before Andrew swiftly stabbed the needle into the arm of the career politician and plunged the entire contents of the syringe deep into the muscle tissue. The Vice President stared down at the needle sticking out of his arm and then back up to look Andrew squarely in the eyes. The chemical worked quickly and as the Vice President realized he was losing all muscle control his eyes sought out the doorway that led to an entire squadron of heavily armed and highly trained men whose job it was to protect him. He opened his mouth to scream for help, but the only noise he made was a low moan accompanied by a gurgling sound right before he collapsed into Andrew’s arms.