“Sir, there’s more to my offer of resignation than you might imagine. What I have to tell you concerns other members of the Secret Service. I think it might be best if I removed myself from the departmental equation. Eliminated the possibility of any personal or professional motivations.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what, Max. You tell me what you came here to say. Then I’ll decide whether you need to resign or not.”
“Sir-”
“Max, you know I don’t have to accept any letter of resignation unless I want to. So that’s the best offer you’re going to get. Might as well start talking.”
Zimmer paused, trying to think how best to broach the subject. He had practiced this speech, practiced the whole meeting a dozen times. But now he couldn’t remember a word of what he had planned to say. “Sir, it concerns Special Agent Gatwick. He used to protect-”
“I know who he is, Max,” the president said abruptly. Was he imagining it, Zimmer wondered, or had the president stiffened slightly the moment he spoke Gatwick’s name? “Please continue.”
“On April nineteenth, Agent Gatwick made changes to the standard agency protocol. He altered the security strategy in a way that turned out to…not be a good idea.”
“I know all this, Max. What’s your point?” His eyebrows knitted together. “Surely you’re not suggesting that Gatwick anticipated the attack. That he knew what was about to happen?”
“I-I just don’t know, sir.”
“Have you reported your thoughts to your superior?”
“Yes. And Director Lehman not only did nothing-he met with Agent Gatwick privately, at a clandestine meeting. And then he took the Secret Service out of the investigation, which also strikes me as very suspicious.”
“What is it you want, Max?”
“I think there should be a complete investigation of Agent Gatwick’s actions, what he did, what impact it had, and who knew about it. And I believe that Agent Gatwick should be relieved from active service pending the outcome of the investigation.”
“That’s out of the question.”
The president had responded without a moment’s hesitation. What was going on here?
“Sir, if there is any chance that Gatwick had inappropriate knowledge, he needs to be taken out of play until we determine if he continues to pose a threat to national security.”
“Sorry, no. Can’t be done.”
“But-”
The president turned, walking away from him. Zimmer could no longer see his face. “I can’t do it, Max.”
“Surely you can see-”
“You’re not listening to me. I can’t do it.”
“With all due respect, sir, you’re the leader of the free world. You can do pretty much anything you want.”
“Okay, then, I won’t. I won’t do this. I will not allow the first lady’s name to become…besmirched.”
What?
“Emily was a fine woman, Max. No matter what. She was first-rate, right down the line. I won’t take any action that might create suspicions. Tarnish her memory.”
My God, Zimmer thought, is he saying what I think he’s saying? Zimmer had hassled Gatwick at times, thought maybe there had been some inappropriate flirtation, but he had never really believed that Was it possible all those rumors were true?
“Mr. President, the whole sudden decision to withdraw from the investigation-”
“Yes?”
“Well, I don’t understand it.”
“Frankly, Max, you don’t have to understand it. Your job description is to protect, not to understand. But you can rest assured that Director Lehman did the right thing for the right reason, and with my full support. In fact, if I recall correctly, I suggested it.”
“Sir-”
“I think this conversation has gone about as long as it needs to go. Your resignation is not accepted. So get back to work.” He paused, then added, “And concentrate on your job, not any more idle suspicions that might crop up in your brain.”
“But, sir-”
“This is your commander in chief speaking to you, Special Agent Zimmer. Have I made my instructions perfectly clear?”
Zimmer stood at attention and gave him a small salute. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. You may leave by the southwest door. Ask Gina for a cookie. The kitchen baked them fresh this morning. Best snicker-doodles in the whole damn free world.”
35
“Thank you for agreeing to meet me here, Ben,” President Blake said as they rode the elevator up to the helipad. “I know you’re busy, and this can’t have been convenient.”
“I’m grateful for the meeting,” Ben replied, wondering just how high the elevator could go. There were no floor markings. He imagined that, like Willy Wonka’s glass elevator, it might shoot through the ceiling at any moment. “But…I do think it would be best if we had some privacy.”
“We’ll have privacy up here,” Blake assured him as the elevator bell announced their arrival. “And even if other people were in the vicinity, they wouldn’t be able to hear a word we were saying.”
The doors opened and Ben was immediately assaulted by a sudden burst of noise that was almost deafening, not to mention what felt like hurricane-force winds.
“I know it seems overpowering at first,” the president said, “but believe me, you get used to it.”
Ben doubted he ever would, and he also questioned whether he could possibly discuss the delicate matters he had in mind here. Had Blake done this to him deliberately? Could he know what Ben wanted to ask? Ben didn’t see how it was possible, but the circumstances still seemed suspect.
“There she is,” the president said, gesturing across the helipad. “The president’s personal helicopter. Marine One. You’re probably wondering-why is a vehicle that travels through the air called Marine One? Well, once upon a time, it was the property of the U.S. Marines. So your next question is: Since it isn’t anymore, why don’t they change the name? And the answer to that one is: I have no idea.”
Shielding his eyes from the almost overpowering gusts of wind, Ben gazed across the helipad. He had once ridden in the copter Mike co-owned with some other police officers, but he hadn’t enjoyed it, never hoped to do it again, and still didn’t know anything about them. “Why are there three?”
“Anytime I fly, two other outwardly identical copters fly with me. Decoys. Reduces the chance of a successful strike by a surface-to-air missile.”
“Three-to-one? Still unpleasant odds.”
“Yup. I tried to get the Senate to approve a convoy of ten, but you misers were too cheap.” Blake walked Ben closer to the elegant machines. The engines were already started, thus creating the thunderous noise Ben had heard when he stepped off the elevator. “Beautiful, aren’t they? Sikorsky VH-60Ns. Travel at one hundred fifty knots. Can get you anywhere you want to go in no time at all. Not as luxurious as Air Force One, of course. But damn fast.” He waved to people Ben couldn’t see somewhere overhead. “Snipers. Don’t worry-they’re on my side. And
