Jonathan Wilkes snapped shut the sleek black Motorola RAZR V3 and dropped it into the nearest trash can on the street. He had received confirmation from Hannah to proceed and wouldn't need to use that phone ever again. When it was time to contact her again, he would purchase a disposable phone using cash.

Wilkes checked the pace of traffic and crossed the street to join the growing crowd of protesters.

The former United States Marine Corps Force Reconnaissance warrior gripped the nylon backpack that was slung over the shoulder of his Port Authority black leather bomber jacket. Wilkes generally preferred to wear the durable and ready-for-action Battle Dress Uniform, but despite coming in a variety of camouflage patterns and solid colors, he decided he would blend in better if he wore civilian clothes.

Good call. As soon as he stepped into the crowd of protesters he noted that there were at least fifteen other men in black leather jackets and blue jeans, and not a single person in BDUs. Wilkes quickly scanned the crowd looking for potential accomplices and found them huddled together in front of the window of a shoe store closed for the night. They cast furtive glances around as they passed something small between them, each taking their turn.

They were perfect.

Wilkes strode over and stopped a couple feet outside the circle. He quickly evaluated the small group of boys and noted that the oldest couldn't have been more than seventeen. They obviously thought that forming a circle would magically keep anyone from smelling what it was that were really up to. A sudden exchange of whispers caused the entire group to simultaneously turn their heads and look at Wilkes.

“We ain't got nothin’ for sale.” The 17-year-old was obviously the leader. Probably because he was their supplier.

“I just wanted to know if you boys can help me and my friends out,” Wilkes nodded his head towards the crowd of protesters. “You see, the Vice President’s motorcade is gonna come by in about fifteen minutes, and I've got a few cartons of eggs in my bag. You interested?”

“What are you protesting?”

Wilkes smiled. “Does it really matter?  You wanna throw eggs at the VPs limo or not?”

Heads pivoted back-and-forth among the circle of boys as they looked at each other trying to determine if this was a trap or not. All eyes finally settled on the leader who looked back at Wilkes and flashed a big grin exposing several gaps were teeth should have been. “You only live once, right?”

Wilkes slid the backpack off his shoulder and bent down to unzip the bag. He lifted the first carton of eggs out of the backpack and held it out to the leader.

“Take the eggs out of the cartons here and spend the next few minutes working your way into the crowd. Try not to stick together. Remember, the key word here is to blend in. The Vice President’s car will be the second limousine, six cars back from the front of the motorcade. Now don't any of you get too excited and start throwing eggs early. Wait for the Vice President.”

One of the boys, who couldn't have been more than fifteen, took a carton of eggs and held it up to show the others.

“Hey – organic free range, nice.”

Wilkes handed out the rest of the egg cartons. “Only the very best for the leaders of our country.”

Eggs were quickly dispersed among the small group when the leader paused and looked at Wilkes. “What about you man, you gonna take an egg?”

“Already got one,” Wilkes replied as he slipped an egg out of the pocket of his black leather bomber jacket. “Remember – wait for the Vice President’s car.”

“We got it man.”