The Buick disappeared down the road, leaving a stricken Wrightsburg in its wake.
Round one was now officially over. He could hardly wait for round two.
CHAPTER
8
WALTER BISHOP, a man very high up in the Secret Service, paced in front of Michelle Maxwell, who sat at a small table and watched. They were in a small conference room deep inside a government building in Washington filled with people reeling from recent events.
Over his shoulder he said, “You should feel relieved you’re only being placed on admin leave, Maxwell.”
“Oh, yes, I’m thrilled you’ve taken my gun and badge. I’m not stupid, Walter. Judgment has already been passed. I’m gone.”
“The investigation is ongoing—in fact, it’s just beginning.”
“Right. All those years of my life, down the toilet.”
He whirled and snapped, “A presidential candidate was kidnapped right under your nose—a first in the agency’s history. Congratulations. You’re lucky you’re not in front of a firing squad. In some other countries you would be.”
“Walter, don’t you think I feel that too? It’s killing me.”
“Interesting choice of words. Neal Richards was a fine agent.”
“I know that too,” she snapped back. “Do you think I knew that this rent-a-cop was in on it? There is no one in the Service who feels worse than I do about Neal.”
“You never should have allowed Bruno in that room alone. If you’d simply followed standard procedures, this never would have happened. At the very least that door should have been open far enough for you to see your man. You never, ever take your eyeballs off your protectee; you know that. That’s Protection Detail 101.”
Michelle shook her head. “Sometimes, on the job, in the middle of all the things we have to put up with, you strike compromises, to keep everybody happy.”
“It’s not our job to keep people happy. It’s our job to kee
p them safe!”
“Are you telling me this is the first time a judgment call was made in the field to let a protectee in a room without an agent?”
“No, I’m saying this is the first time that call was made and something like this happened. It’s strict liability, Michelle. No excuses will avail. Bruno’s political party is up in arms. Some nuts are actually saying the Service was paid off to knock Bruno out of the race.”
“That’s absurd.”
“I know it is and you know it is, but you get enough people saying it, well, then the public starts believing it.”
Michelle had perched on the edge of her seat during this exchange. Now she sat back and looked calmly at the man.
“Just so we’re clear, I accept full responsibility for what happened, and none of my men should be affected. They were following orders. It was my call and I blew it.”
“Good of you to say. I’ll see what I can do about that.” He paused and added, “I suppose you wouldn’t consider resigning.”
“No, Walter, I really wouldn’t. And just so you know, I’m hiring an attorney.”
“Of course, you are. This is America. Here any screwup can hire a lawyer and actually get money for being incompetent. You must be so proud.”
Michelle suddenly had to blink back tears at this stinging rebuke, yet part of her thought she deserved it. “I’m just protecting myself, Walter, just like you would if you were in my position.”
“Right. Of course.” The man put his hands in his pockets and glanced toward the door in a show of dismissing her.
Michelle rose. “Can I ask one favor?”
“Certainly you can ask. Although you have unbelievable balls to do so.”