the sky this afternoon.” The President closed his eyes and shook his head.
Several seconds later he looked at Lortch and asked, “Can you protect me or not?”
“If you continue to ignore my advice, no.”
“What do you mean ignore your advice?” asked the President in a pleading tone. He looked to Lortch’s boss this time for an answer, but didn’t get one. Lortch had convinced his boss to stay out of it and let him put the fear of God into the President. Lortch leaned forward and got the President’s attention. “Sir, when you and Mr. Garret informed me that you wanted to hold your budget summit at Camp David, I told you it was a bad idea and that it should be held at the White House.
Because you ignored that advice, you were almost killed today.” Lortch paused briefly, his voice taking on a more authoritative tone.
“Special Agent Dorrell told Speaker Basset that he should cancel all public appearances. The Speaker ignored his advice and now he’s dead …. I have been telling you for two and a half years that security around the White House is lax, that the press is given too much freedom to come and go as they please. Well, it all came home to roost today.
I found out how the assassins knew which helicopter you were on.”
Lortch again paused and looked at the President, letting the tension mount. He was going to play this hand for everything it was worth.
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“My agents tore apart everything that was within sight of the South Lawn. One of them found a transponder attached to the live-signal feed underneath the control panel of the ABC News van. While arranging security for this trip, I suggested that the media be banned from the South Lawn while the helicopters were coming and going. I thought this precaution was appropriate considering the fact that four politicians have been assassinated in the last week. This request was ignored because it was deemed too important of a news event to have a media blackout, so the media was allowed to tape the entire event.
Several members of your staff even wanted to let the media carry the event live. I told them that was out of the question, and we reached a compromise that allowed the media to tape your departure and then show it later. “Just before the first helicopter landed, my agents shut down the live feeds on all the news vans and made them go to tape. At some point after that, the assassins activated a transponder that they’d planted underneath the
ABC News van’s control board. Once this was turned on, they were able to watch everything that happened on the South Lawn in real time. These assassins know where our weaknesses are, and they know that our ability to protect you is directly related to your desire to be protected. They obviously understand the relationship between a politician and the media, and if you continue to make yourself accessible to the media and the public, we will not be able to protect you.” The President looked at his chief protector and said, “Jack, do whatever you need to make things more secure, and I’ll listen to you.”
Roach, noticing that the President was in an unusually decisive and agreeable mood, decided to make his move. “Mr. President, our investigation has hit a wall. We believe these assassins are former United States commandos. Special Agent McMahon and his people have received very little cooperation from the Special Forces people at the
Pentagon. They are stonewalling us at every turn.” The President’s head jerked from
Roach to Nance. “Mike, what’s the problem?”
“Well, sir, there are certain national security issues involved here.
Most of these personnel files are either top secret or contain top secret information about covert missions.” The President cut Nance off for the first time in their professional relationship. “I don’t want to hear about problems. I want to see some results.” Stevens turned his head away from Nance and back to Roach. “I will have an executive order ready by tomorrow morning giving Special Agent McMahon permission to review any personnel file he wishes. We are done dragging our feet on this. I want these people caught!” Nance looked at the President from the other end of the table and bit his lip.
Stevens was too emotional right now, he would have to wait until later to discuss this issue.
There was no way in the world someone without top secret clearance was going to get carte blanche on those files. Especially someone from the FBI. While Nance tried to think of a way around this new problem, Lortch briefed the participants on the evidence they’d found under the bridge such as the radar dishes, and what efforts were being made to
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track the serial numbers. As the briefing continued, it dawned on Nance that Garret was unusually quiet. Nance attributed it to the threat the assassins had made on his life.
Nance’s mind moved from Garret to Stansfield. Why was Director Stansfield so quiet during the discussion of Special Forces personnel files? Surely it was in the CIA’s best interest to keep those files away from the eyes of the FBI.
The meeting ended just after 8 P.M and everyone left the conference room except
Garret and Nance.
When the door closed, Garret dropped his head into his hands and rubbed his eyes.
“What a fucking mess.” Nance shifted in his chair and crossed his legs. He watched
Garret and tried to guess what he was thinking.
Nance tilted his head back and asked, “Stu, you were awfully quiet during the briefing. Did that tape get to you?” Garret let his hands fall to the table and looked up with bloodshot eyes. “No … maybe a little … I don’t know.” Garret reached into his shirt pocket.
“God, I need a cigarette.” He shoved one in his mouth and lit it.
After taking a deep drag he said, “They can’t kill me if’ I don’t give them the chance. I
won’t leave the White House for a month. I’ll take one of the guest bedrooms and move in.” Garret took several
