who placed the rope there?'
'It would have been the Service.'
'So the detail leader, Bob Scott?'
'I doubt that Bobby got into those sorts of details.'
'So how do you know the Service did it, for sure?'
He shrugged. 'I guess I don't. I just knew Ritter and I were going to be behind that rope.'
'Exactly.' She handed the light to King and positioned herself where King had stood and looked over at the elevators. 'Okay, with the rope there and you here, you'd be the only one in the room who could see the elevators. That seems prearranged. And, by the way, the elevator was certainly holding your attention again.'
'Forget the elevator,' he snapped. 'Why the hell am I even here? Ritter was a jerk. Hell, I'm glad he's dead.'
'He was still a presidential candidate, Sean. I didn't like John Bruno, but I guarded the man like he was the president of the United States.'
He said curtly, 'You don't need to lecture me on agency standards. I was guarding presidents while you were spending all your time rowing a boat for a hunk of metal.'
Michelle said slowly, 'Is staying up all night screwing another agent when you're posting the next day part of Secret Service protection standards? If it is, I must have missed that one in the manual.'
'Yeah, it's right next to the rule about never leaving a protectee alone in a room. I guess you missed that one too,' he shot back.
'I hope Joan was worth it.'
'Loretta Baldwin told you about the panties on the ceiling light, so draw your own conclusion.'
'That was a bad judgment call. I wouldn't have slept with youbefore a shift no matter how tempted I might have been. Not that I would have been.'
'Thanks. That's good to know…
'In fact,' Michelle continued boring in, 'your being distracted I can accept a lot more than your sleeping around before going on duty.'
'This is all really interesting. Now, do you want to check this place out, or do you want to continue dissecting my life decisions?'
'I tell you what, why don't we just leave?' she said abruptly. 'I'm suddenly sick of the atmosphere here.'
She strode off, and King, shaking his head wearily, slowly followed.
Outside the room, she was already out of sight. King called after her and shone the light and finally picked her out of the shadows. 'Michelle, wait up. You'll kill yourself getting out of here without a light.'
She stopped, her arms crossed over her chest, and scowled back at him. Then she stiffened, and her head snapped in the other direction. King saw a blur come from out of the darkness, and Michelle cried out. He rushed forward as the two men came into the beam of his flashlight and descended on Michelle.
'Watch out!' yelled King as he raced forward. Before he could get to them, a gun one of the men was brandishing went flying away, the result of a precise kick executed by Michelle. Next her left foot crunched the face of the other guy, and he flew against a wall and slumped down. Like a dancer practicing a carefully choreographed routine, she spun and dropped the other guy with a wicked snap kick to the kidney. Both men tried to get back up, but she laid one of them out with an elbow smash to the back of his neck, while King knocked the other one out with his flashlight.
Breathing hard, he looked over as Michelle searched in her bag. She produced two pairs of Tie-Tights and ingeniously bound theunconscious men together. The woman hadn't even broken a sweat. She looked up at King and his inquiring look.
'Black belt. Fourth-degree,' she said.
'Of course,' King said. He shone his light on the pair still dressed in their blue inmate jumpsuits. 'Looks like our friends the escaped prisoners. Guess they couldn't find any new duds.'
'I'll call it in, do the locals a favor. Anonymously, of course.' She pulled out her phone.
'Hey, Michelle?'
'Yeah?'
'I just want you to know that I feel very safe with a big, strong woman around to protect me.'
After she called the police, Michelle and King hustled to her Land Cruiser, getting to it about the time the chopper came soaring over on its way to the hotel. Michelle followed the path of the aircraft and then the swath its light cut through the woods. When she saw him, she gasped.
Revealed off on a side road was a truck, and sitting in the truck was a man, sharply exposed now by the light. And then in an instant the light was gone and so was the man. Michelle could hear the truck being started, and then it sped off.
Michelle jumped into her truck, screaming for King to follow.
'What is it?' he yelled, closing the door after him as she fumbled with her keys.
'There was a man in a truck. Didn't you see him?'
'No, I didn't.'
'Didn't you hear his truck take off?'
'With that chopper going over? Who was it?'
'He looked different, because he must have been wearing a disguise when I saw him the first time-and maybe he's wearing one now-but I could see his eyes clearly. The eyes don't lie. It was him, I could swear to it.'
'Who!'
'Officer Simmons, the rent-a-cop at the funeral home, the man who kidnapped Bruno and killed Neal Richards.'
King looked at her, bewildered. 'Are you really sure?'
She put the truck in gear. 'Sure enough.' She turned the truck around and was about to head down the side road after the other vehicle when a number of police cars appeared and blocked their way.
Michelle slammed her fists against the steering wheel. 'Damn it, what a time for the local cops to show.'
As one of the car doors opened and the man got out, King shook his head and said, 'It's not the locals, Michelle.'
The man came over to the driver's side and motioned Michelle to put her window down. She did so, and he leaned in and looked first at her and then at King.
'You two mind stepping out of the vehicle?' said Jefferson Parks.
28
The interrogation went on for most of the night. The police refused to listen to Michelle's pleas to allow her to leave to try and find the man she had seen in the truck. They clearly had other priorities, and when she tried to explain about the man being the person who'd kidnapped John Bruno, their expressions grew very skeptical. 'That'll keep,' the sheriff said firmly.
She then spent a very unpleasant hour having her pride wounded by Walter Bishop of the Secret Service. After being told of her detainment by the North Carolina police, he'd flown down to read Michelle the riot act.
Bishop thundered, 'I thought when I reminded you of how fortunate you were to still be with the Service that it would have made an impression on you. Now I find you're involved in things that don't concern you. I don't see how you could have messed up any more than you have.' He looked at King. 'Oh, but I'm wrong about that, because now you're keeping company with one of the Service's legendary losers. You can start a club, the screwup club. You have the
King had loathed Bishop when he was at the Service, and Bishop had been one of the loudest voices in crucifying King. The intervening years hadn't mellowed the ex-agent's feelings one jot.
'Careful, Walt,' said King. 'I won a libel case and I can win aslander case, and the pleasure it would give me to
