‘How did you find it?’ asked Lawrence.
‘It was among the pile of clothes Fitzgerald left in the Jumbo-Tron,’ said Special Agent in Charge Braithwaite. ‘In the back pocket of his jeans.’
‘How many people have heard it?’ asked Lloyd, trying not to sound anxious.
‘Just the three of us in this room, sir,’ said Braithwaite. ‘As soon as I’d listened to it, I contacted you immediately. I haven’
t even briefed my boss.’
‘I’m grateful for that, Bill,’ said the President. ‘But what about those who witnessed the incident in the stadium?’
‘Apart from myself, only five other people were aware that anything happened, and you can be assured of their discretion,’ said Braithwaite. ‘Four of them have been on my personal staff for ten years or more, and between them they know enough secrets to sink the last four Presidents, not to mention half of Congress.’
‘Did anyone actually see Fitzgerald?’ asked Lloyd.
‘No, sir. The two agents who searched the JumboTron immediately after the incident found no sign of him except a pile of clothes, a lot of blood and one of my men handcuffed to a beam. After I’d played the tape, I gave an order that there was to be no written or verbal report concerning the incident.’
‘What about the man who was hanging from the beam?’ asked the President.
‘He just lost his footing and slipped off the ledge. I’ve put him on sick leave for a month.’
‘You mentioned a fifth person,’ said Lloyd.
‘Yes, sir, a young trainee who was up on the lighting tower with us.’
‘How can you be sure he won’t talk?’ asked Lloyd.
‘His application to join the Secret Service is on my desk as we speak,’ said Braithwaite. ‘I think he’s hoping to be assigned to my division as soon as he’s completed his training.’
The President smiled. ‘And the bullet?’
‘I made a hell of a mess digging it out of the field after the stadium had been cleared,’ said Braithwaite, passing a spent piece of flat metal across to the President.
Lawrence rose from his desk, turned round and stared out of the bay window. Dusk had fallen over the Capitol. He looked across the lawn while he thought about what he was going to say.
‘It’s important that you realise one thing, Bill,’ he said eventually. ‘It certainly sounds like my voice on that tape, but I have never suggested to anyone, at any time, that Zerimski or any other person should be the target of an assassin.’
‘I accept that without question, Mr President, or I wouldn’t be here now. But I must be equally candid with you. If anyone in the Secret Service had realised that it was Fitzgerald in the JumboTron, they would probably have helped him escape.’
‘What kind of man can inspire such loyalty?’ asked Lawrence.
‘In your world, I suspect it’s Abraham Lincoln,’ said Braithwaite. ‘In ours it’s Connor Fitzgerald.’
‘I would have liked to meet him.’
‘That’s going to be difficult, sir. Even if he’s still alive, he seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth. I wouldn’t want my career to depend on finding him.’
‘Mr President,’ interrupted Lloyd, ‘you’re already running seven minutes late for the dinner at the Russian Embassy.’
Lawrence smiled and shook hands with Braithwaite. ‘Another good man I can’t tell the American people about,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘I suppose you’ll be on duty again tonight.’
‘Yes, sir, I’ve been detailed to cover the whole of President Zerimski’s visit.’
‘I may see you later then, Bill. If you pick up any new information about Fitzgerald, I want to hear about it immediately.’
‘Of course, sir,’ said Braithwaite, turning to leave.
A few minutes later, Lawrence and Lloyd walked in silence to the south portico, where nine limousines with their engines running stood in line. As soon as the President was in the back of the sixth car, he turned to his Chief of Staff and asked, ‘Where do you think he is, Andy?’