Maxwell's every feature as she passed by him that day. It wasn't out of the question that he'd confront her again at some point. He already knew her complete background, but the more information, the more intelligence, the better. She was a woman who might sit home and grow bitter, or one who'd charge forward and take risks. From the little he'd seen of her, he thought the latter more likely.
He refocused on the scene unfolding in front of him now. Some of the townsfolk, just showing up for work or opening their shops, were wandering toward the lawyer's office as yet another police car and then a crime scene van pulled into the small parking lot. This was clearly something new for the respectable little metropolis of Wrightsburg. The men in uniform hardly seemed to know what to do. It was all so heartening to the man as he munched on his bagel. He'd waited so long for all of this; he intended to enjoy it. And there was much more to come.
He noted once again the woman standing outside the office. He'd seen Susan Whitehead when she approached King in the parking lot. A girlfriend? A would-be lover was probably more accurate, the man deduced from the encounter he'd witnessed. He raised his camera and took a couple of shots of her. He waited for King to come out for air, but that was probably not going to happen. King had covered much ground in his rounds as a deputy. So many back roads to traverse, lonely roads they were too. Anything could be out there, in the thick woods, waiting for you. And yet where was one really safe these days?
Inside a zippered bag in his trunk was a very special item thathad to go to a special place. In fact, now was the perfect opportunity to do so.
After tossing the remains of his breakfast in a garbage can on the sidewalk he put the rusted Buick in gear and drove off, muffler rattling. He pulled down the street, glancing once in the direction of King's office and flippantly gave a thumbs-up sign. As he passed by Susan Whitehead, who was staring at King's office, he thought, Maybe I'll be seeing you. Sooner rather than later.
The Buick disappeared down the road, leaving a stricken Wrightsburg in its wake.
Round one was now officially over. He could hardly wait for round two.
8
Walter Bishop, a man very high up in the Secret Service, paced in front of Michelle Maxwell, who sat at a small table and watched. They were in a small conference room deep inside a government building in Washington filled with people reeling from recent events.
Over his shoulder he said, 'You should feel relieved you're only being placed on admin leave, Maxwell.'
'Oh, yes, I'm thrilled you've taken my gun and badge. I'm not stupid, Walter. Judgment has already been passed. I'm gone.'
'The investigation is ongoing-in fact, it's just beginning.'
'Right. All those years of my life, down the toilet.'
He whirled and snapped, 'A presidential candidate was kidnapped right under your nose-a first in the agency's history. Congratulations. You're lucky you're not in front of a firing squad. In some other countries you would be.'
'Walter, don't you think I feel that too? It's killing me.'
'Interesting choice of words. Neal Richards was a fine agent.'
'I know that too,' she snapped back. 'Do you think I knew that this rent-a-cop was in on it? There is no one in the Service who feels worse than I do about Neal.'
'You never should have allowed Bruno in that room alone. If you'd simply followed standard procedures, this never would have happened. At the very least that door should have been open farenough for you to see your man. You never, ever take your eyeballs off your protectee; you know that. That's Protection Detail 101.'
Michelle shook her head. 'Sometimes, on the job, in the middle of all the things we have to put up with, you strike compromises, to keep everybody happy.'
'It's not our job to keep people happy. It's our job to keep them safe!'
'Are you telling me this is the first time a judgment call was made in the field to let a protectee in a room without an agent?'
'No, I'm saying this is the first time that call was made and something like this happened. It's strict liability, Michelle. No excuses will avail. Bruno's political party is up in arms. Some nuts are actually saying the Service was paid off to knock Bruno out of the race.'
'That's absurd.'
'I know it is and you know it is, but you get enough people saying it, well, then the public starts believing it.'
Michelle had perched on the edge of her seat during this exchange. Now she sat back and looked calmly at the man.
'Just so we're clear, I accept full responsibility for what happened, and none of my men should be affected. They were following orders. It was my call and I blew it.'
'Good of you to say. I'll see what I can do about that.' He paused and added, 'I suppose you wouldn't consider resigning.'
'No, Walter, I really wouldn't. And just so you know, I'm hiring an attorney.'
'Of course, you are. This is America. Here any screwup can hire a lawyer and actually get money for being incompetent. You must be so proud.'
Michelle suddenly had to blink back tears at this stinging rebuke, yet part of her thought she deserved it. 'I'm just protecting myself, Walter, just like you would if you were in my position.'
'Right. Of course.' The man put his hands in his pockets and glanced toward the door in a show of dismissing her.
Michelle rose. 'Can I ask one favor?'
'Certainly you can ask. Although you have unbelievable balls to do so.'
'You're not the first person to notice that,' she said coolly. He waited expectantly, without replying. 'I want to know how the investigation is going.'
'The FBI is handling all of that.'
'I know, but they must be keeping the Service informed.'
'They are, and that information is for Service personnel only.'
'Meaning I'm not?'
'You know, Michelle, I had my doubts when the Service started actively recruiting women. I mean you spend money to train an agent, and then, poof, she gets married, has babies and retires. All that training, money, time, down the drain.'
Michelle couldn't believe she was listening to this, but she remained silent.
'But when you came on board, I thought, now this gal has what it takes. You were the poster woman for the Service. The best and the brightest.'
'And with it came high expectations.'
'Every agent here has high expectations thrust upon them, nothing less than perfection.' He paused and added, 'I know that your record was spotless before this. I know that you were moving up rapidly. I know that you're a good agent, but you messed up, we lost a protectee and an agent lost his life. It's not necessarily fair but there you are. It wasn't really fair for them either.' He paused again, and his eyes took on a faraway look. 'You may stay with the Service in some capacity. But you'll never, ever forget what happened. It'll be with you every minute of every day for the rest of your life. And that will hurt you far worse than anything the Service could do to you. Trust me.'
'You sound pretty sure about that.'
'I was with Bobby Kennedy at the Ambassador Hotel. I was arookie cop in L.A. assigned to do local backup for the Secret Service when RFK came through. I just stood there and watched a man who should have gone on to be president bleed to death on the floor. Every day since then I've wondered what I could have done differently that would have prevented it from happening. It was one of the major reasons I joined the Service years later. I guess I wanted to make up for it somehow.' His gaze caught hers. 'I never did make up for it. And, no, you never
