Free The President's Henchman by Joseph Flynn

gone to a private clinic in Switzerland to birth them. When sad sack Andy Grant finally wised up, the president and McGill had him killed so the faithless wife wouldn’t lose all those billions in a divorce. Then they blamed the killing on poor God-fearing Erna Godfrey, who was sitting in jail right then waiting to die. Well, if the goddamn government killed Erna … maybe the thing to do was go after those kids.
    Crogher handed the phone back to McGill.
    Barbara promised to alert her people and call McGill nightly for as long as necessary.
    McGill didn’t know if Crogher had come completely clean with him, but he’d certainly heard enough for now.
     
    McGill was leaving the West Wing when he felt a hand catch his left arm. He’d been too preoccupied to notice anyone approach, but when he looked around, he saw the White House physician, Artemus Nicolaides. Nick to all who knew him.
    Nick was sixty or so, McGill had heard, but looked to be in his late forties, even with his shaven scalp. His Mediterranean complexion tanned on exposure to a sunny smile, and he was lean and fit, which he attributed to the daily consumption of olive oil and power walks up and down the National Mall.
    “You don’t look so good, my friend,” Nick told McGill. “Pale even for an Irishman. Fall sick, then what kind of henchman will you be for the president?”
    “Patti called you again,” McGill said.
    “The president loves you, a gift as rare as a man might know. She asked me to remind you once more that you are overdue for your annual physical examination. Several weeks overdue. Also, you are pale.”
    “Even for an Irishman,” McGill added. He gently disengaged his arm from Nick’s grasp. “Soon, Nick, I’ll have my checkup soon. I’ll come to your office.”
    Nick smiled with perfect white teeth. “For you, I even make house calls.”
     
    McGill got into the backseat of his black Chevy. Leo and Deke sat up front. Leo went to put the car in gear, but McGill told him to wait. Leo waited, looked at the boss in his rearview mirror. Deke looked over his shoulder at McGill.
    He told them of Galia’s snooping. “I know neither of you blabbed.”
    “Not one little peep,” Leo agreed.
    Deke nodded.
    “I’m going to have the office swept for bugs. I’ll find a private firm. Just so you know, there will be an unfamiliar face or two around soon.”
    “We should do a background check first,” Deke said, “on whoever you hire.”
    “I’ll check them out. I can’t ask you guys to be involved because then your bosses will be involved, and pretty soon the whole federal government would know. I just wanted to alert you so some electronics guy doesn’t find himself looking up the barrel of an Uzi.”
    McGill sat back, thinking Leo would drive off.
    But the driver didn’t drive, and the bodyguard didn’t look for threats.
    “What?” McGill asked.
    “You tell us,” Deke said.
    They could see something else was wrong, McGill thought, and they were right to want to know about it. Anything that put him off his game increased the risk to them. He shared the news about the threat to his children that he’d pried out of Crogher.
    “You ought to let us put another ring around them,” Deke said. “The Service could work things out with the local police so we’re not stepping on each other’s toes.”
    “That’s what I’d do if they were my kids,” Leo agreed.
    “I’m thinking about it,” McGill said. Then he realized he’d have to let Carolyn know what Crogher had told him. Poor Carolyn. His ex-wife had been terrified about the dangers he’d faced as a cop. Now, when she heard the kids were the subjects of threats … he decided to call her when Lars was home. Carolyn’s new husband, a pharmacist, was a steady guy. A safe guy.
    Hell, maybe he’d ask Patti to buy them a sheep ranch in New Zealand.
    Let the kids grow up to be Kiwis.
    “Let’s go,” McGill said. “I’m not the only one with problems.”
     

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