“The only thing I’m suggesting is that you broke protocol.”
“And it’s a damn good thing I did. The killers obviously knew our defense plan as well as we did. They knew exactly how to hit us the hardest. They were probably monitoring our communications-which is supposed to be impossible. They knew where the agents would be located. Altering the preplanned defense formation was probably the best thing I could have possibly done.”
Zimmer looked at him stonily. “You moved her.”
“I took her out of a potential line of fire. Which turned out not to be potential at all, but very real.”
“If she had been closer to the president, it might’ve been easier for the Secret Service agents on hand to protect her. To protect them both.”
Gatwick leaned across Zimmer’s desk, his face rippling with suppressed anger. “Are you sure you’re not suggesting that the first lady’s death was my fault?”
They stared each other down for a long moment.
“No, of course not,” Zimmer said finally. “I’m just saying…we have a lot to account for. We made mistakes. And we paid dearly for them.”
Gatwick balled his fists. “I am…outraged by the suggestion that my actions killed the first lady. I knew Emily Blake. I knew her personally.”
Zimmer’s face remained stoic. “That’s what I’ve heard.”
“I don’t know what you’ve heard, but we were friends. Good friends. Known each other since college. She specially requested that I be assigned to any security detail that involved her.”
“So you would always be wherever she was.”
“Yes, so-” Gatwick stopped short. “What the hell are you saying?”
Zimmer waved his hand in the air. “The only thing I’m saying is that we screwed up. That’s the truth. We need to admit it and accept it.”
“Is that what you’re worried about? Sharing the blame? Max-I will not let them scapegoat you. I was in charge on site. I take full responsibility for everything.”
“Sounds good. But when the hellhounds need a sacrifice, it won’t be you.”
“There aren’t going to be any scapegoats. No one wants one. All the polls show the people don’t see this as a failing on the part of the government. They see an evil enemy who will be unstoppable unless we make serious changes in current law enforcement procedures.”
Zimmer fingered the Secret Service pin on the lapel of his midnight-blue suit. He had been so proud the day he received it. Now it seemed like a horrible reminder of his greatest failure, a millstone weighing him down so heavily, he could barely walk. “I’ve seen those polls. The president’s proposed amendment is barely a day old and already the majority of the population favors its passage.”
“And thank God for that. We need it, Max.”
“Do we?”
“If we’re going to do our job, yes. If we’re going to prevent Oklahoma City from ever happening again. Those terrorists are bastards. They don’t care about civil rights. We have to fight fire with fire.”
Zimmer’s mind wandered even as Gatwick continued his rant on the need for stronger crime-fighting laws. He’d heard it all before. Ever since the Service had been transferred to Homeland Security in 2003, they had been obsessed with stopping terrorism. That wasn’t their job. Ironically, the Service had first been created in 1865 to suppress counterfeit currency, which is why it was part of the Treasury Department. After the assassination of President McKinley in 1901, they added the protection of the president to their list of duties, and over the years that became their primary focus. When Zimmer first joined the Service only a few years ago, their job description had been pretty simple. They protected the president, the first lady, their family, all their transportation vehicles, the White House and other presidential offices, the vice-president and his family, presidential candidates, and the occasional foreign dignitary. But with 9/11, it all changed. Now they were inextricably linked with Homeland Security and the orange alerts and all the other counterterrorism efforts enacted with more fear than thought in the aftermath of that great tragedy.
Could he fault the American people for the direction public opinion was taking? The fact is, the Secret Service had more than 5,000 employees, including 2,100 special agents. But they still hadn’t been able to prevent the April 19 massacre.
And he hadn’t been able to save the first lady.
Zimmer suddenly realized that Gatwick had stopped talking. He was probably waiting for some kind of response, but Zimmer had no idea what that might be.
“I take it from your silence,” Gatwick said, “that you actually oppose the president’s proposed amendment?”
Zimmer tilted his head silently.
“Let me guess. Secretly a card-carrying ACLU member? Bill of Rights freak?”
“Is it freaky to think the Bill of Rights important?”
Gatwick rolled his eyes. “If you knew how many convictions we’ve lost because some damn lawyer made a constitutional argument based on those ten amendments-”
“But how many people have avoided false conviction because they were in place?”
“For a guy supposedly torn up about the act of an unknown terrorist or terrorist cell, you’re pretty damn generous about making sure they have their rights.”
“The Bill of Rights is not just about guaranteeing rights to accused criminals.” Zimmer picked up the book he had tossed onto his desk. “I’ve been doing a little reading. Something I found in the library. Do you know why the Bill of Rights exists?”
“Well…”
“It exists because the people demanded it. Not the Founding Fathers-they thought the Constitution was a sufficient guarantee of rights in and of itself. But the people wanted more. Even after the Constitution was ratified, there was a strong feeling that the rights of states and individuals should be given greater protection. So at the very first session of Congress, back in 1791, they began drafting a Bill of Rights. Patrick Henry wanted twenty amendments; James Madison fought for twelve. But the Massachusetts delegation wanted the ten we have today, and they were influential enough to get their way. Not all the states adopted them immediately, though. In fact, three of the original thirteen states didn’t ratify the Bill of Rights until 1939.”
“This is all very fascinating, but-”
“Since that time, the Constitution has been amended only twenty-seven times in more than two hundred years. But there have been more than six thousand proposed amendments. Everything you can imagine. Abolish the electoral college. Limit private income to ten million dollars. Replace the presidency with a three-person council. Change the name of the country to the United States of Earth.”
“I’m amazed that one didn’t go through,” Gatwick said drolly. “So what’s your point, assuming you actually have one?”
“There are two things I’ve gathered from my research. One: the people, when they are thinking rationally, want a Bill of Rights. And two: we need a slow and deliberate process to prevent wacky amendments from becoming law.”
“Aw, hell. It’ll probably take forever. That ERA thing was tossed about for years.”
“But it never made it into the Constitution. Three states short. The timing wasn’t right. It was too soon.”
“So if this drags on for years-”
“The Twenty-sixth Amendment, on the other hand, became national law only three months and seven days after it came out of Congress. That was the one that gave eighteen-year-olds the right to vote. Of course, the Vietnam War was raging. If eighteen-year-old boys could be shipped overseas to be napalmed to death, shouldn’t they have a say in the government that was sending them? It was the right idea at the right time. The amendment was adopted practically overnight.”
“And your big worry?”
Zimmer looked up from his book. “This is clearly the right time for this amendment. Couldn’t ever be a better one. But what if it’s the right time-but the wrong law?”
Gatwick waved him away. “I think you worry too much. Because you’re depressed about what happened. Give it a week or so-you’ll see the light.”
