Split Second

The younger man looked at one of the items from the boxes. 'You did a good job on these.'

'They needed to be as accurate as possible. I don't like imprecision.'

'Yeah, don't I know that.'

While lifting a container Simmons suddenly grimaced and clutched at his side.

The Buick Man observed this and said, 'That's what you get for trying to strangle Maxwell instead of simply shooting her. Didn't you ever consider that a Secret Service agent might be armed?'

'I like my victims to know my presence. It's just my way.'

'While working for me you'll subvert your ways to mine. You're lucky the bullet just nicked you.'

'I suppose you would have just left me to die if the bullet had done serious damage?'

'No. I would have shot you and put you out of your misery.'

Simmons stared at his companion for a long moment. 'I bet you would have.'

'Yes, I would have.'

'Well, we got the gun back, that's the important thing.'

Buick Man stopped working and looked at him steadily. 'Maxwell frightens you, doesn't she?'

'I'm not afraid of any man, much less a woman.'

'She almost killed you. In fact, it's only by sheer luck that you escaped.'

'I won't miss next time.'

'See that you don't. Because if you do miss, I certainly won't miss you.'

47

The following morning the group split up. Joan went off to Dobson, Tyler, the Philadelphia law firm where Bruno had worked, and also to interview Bruno's political staff. Parks set off too, though he didn't tell the others he was going to report in to the task force back in Washington.

Before they all parted, Michelle pulled Joan aside.

'You were part of Ritter's detail. What do you recall about Scott?'

'Not much. I was a recent transfer to Ritter's detail. I didn't know him all that well. And after the assassination we were all reassigned pretty much immediately.'

'Recent transfer? Did you ask for it?' She stared pointedly at the other woman.

'Most things in life worth having are rarely handed to you. You have to go after them.' Michelle involuntarily glanced at King, who was talking to Parks. Joan smiled. 'I see you follow my logic precisely. One piece of advice while you're out sleuthing with Sean: he has a terrific nose for investigative work but can be impetuous at times. Follow his lead but watch over him too.'

'Not to worry,' said Michelle, and she started to walk away.

'Oh, and Michelle, I was very serious when I implied these people we're looking for don't care whether you live or die. So while you're covering Sean's back, don't forget to watch your own. I wouldn't wantanything to happen to you. I can see that Sean is quite fond of having you around.'

Michelle turned back around. 'Well, some of us are lucky, aren't we?'

As Joan was driving off in her car, she placed a call to her office staff.

'I need all the background on and present whereabouts of Robert C. Scott, former Secret Service agent and detail leader for Clyde Ritter in 1996, and also on a man named Doug Denby, who was Ritter's chief of staff. And I need it ASAP.'

King and Maxwell drove to Richmond to see Kate Ramsey, who'd returned to VCU and agreed to meet with them. The Center for Public Policy was on Franklin Street in the heart of Virginia Commonwealth University's downtown campus. The center was located in a beautifully refurbished brownstone. The street was filled with such houses, which represented the old wealth of a bygone era in Virginia's capital city.

Kate Ramsey met them in the reception area and led them back to a private office that was filled with books and papers, posters detailing various protests and other activities as well as music posters and assorted sports equipment befitting a youthful scholar.

Looking at the clutter, King whispered to Michelle that she must be feeling right at home and caught an elbow in the ribs.

Kate Ramsey was of medium height and had the build of a runner, with tight, lean muscles. Four different pairs of jogging shoes in the corner of her office confirmed this observation. Her hair was blond and tied back in a ponytail. Her clothes were college standard issue: faded jeans, sneakers and an Abercrombie Fitch short-sleeved shirt. She seemed poised beyond her years and regarded them both with a very frank expression as she sat across from them at her desk.

'Okay, Thornton already called me, so you can just ditch the story about doing a documentary on political assassins.'

'We weren't very good at that anyway,' said Michelle. 'And the truth is just a lot easier, isn't it?' she bluntly shot back.

Kate's gaze shifted to King, who looked back at her nervously. He had, after all, killed the woman's father. What was he supposed to say?I'm sorry?

The young woman said, 'You've aged pretty well. Looks like the years have been good to you.'

'Not recently. That's why we're here, Kate. I can call you Kate, can't I?'

The young woman sat back. 'It is my name, Sean.'

'I know this is incredibly awkward.'

She cut in. 'My father made choices. He killed the man you were guarding. You really had no choice.' She paused and drew a long breath. 'It's been eight years. I won't lie to you and say I didn't hate you back then. I was a girl of fourteen, and you'd taken my father away.'

'But now,' said Michelle.

Kate's gaze remained on King. 'Now I'm a grown woman and things are a lot clearer. You did what you had to do. And so have I.'

'I guess you didn't have much choice in the matter either,' commented King.

She leaned forward and started moving things around on her desk. King noted that she placed the pieces-a pencil, a ruler and other objects-at ninety-degree angles, then started over again. Her hands just kept moving, even as her gaze remained on King and Michelle.

'Thornton said there was new evidence indicating my father hadn't acted alone. What new evidence?'

'We can't tell you,' said Michelle.

'Oh, that's great. You can't tell me, but you expect me to talk to you.'

'If there was someone else involved that day, Kate, it's important we know who it was,' said King. 'I'd think you'd want that too.'

'Why? It's not like it'll change the facts. My father shot Clyde Ritter. There were a hundred eyewitnesses.'

'That's true,' said Michelle, 'but now we believe there's more to it.'

Kate leaned back in her chair. 'So what exactly do you want from me?'

'Anything you can tell us about the events leading up to your father's assassinating Clyde Ritter,' said Michelle.

'He didn't suddenly come in one day and announce he was going to become a killer, if that's what you're wondering. I was only a kid at the time, but I still would have called someone about that.'

'Would you?' said King.

'What's that supposed to mean?'

King shrugged. 'He was your father. Dr. Jorst said you loved him. Maybe you wouldn't have called anybody.'

'Maybe I wouldn't have,' Kate said casually, then started shifting the pencil and ruler around again.

'Okay, let's assume he didn't announce his intentions. How about anything else? Did your father say anything that seemed suspicious or out of the ordinary?'