Free The President's Assassin by Brian Haig

the cards.”
    “That’s an official recommendation, incidentally.”
    “You’re on record.”
    “I’ll follow up with a paper copy of our recommendation after the meeting.”
    “I’m sure you will.”
    Having gotten the pissy ass-covering out of the way, Wardell explained for all our benefits, “We can and will beef up the security details, but no way can we provide double coverage of everybody in the administration.”
    Mrs. Hooper thought about that grim warning a moment. “After this meeting’s over, I’ll give you the names of the people we want double-covered. Offhand, the President and Vice President, obviously, and certainly the Secretary of Defense.”
    It went without saying that Mrs. Hooper would also make the final scrub. But nobody was impolitic enough to mention that, including me.
    Wardell informed her, “Double coverage of the President and Vice President was initiated at 0730 this morning. We don’t do the SecDef, he has a CID detail. But I’ll be sure to pass the word.”
    Meany chose this moment to ask a good and timely question. He said, “If you double the coverage, Chuck, what are the odds?”
    “That depends. Our defenses and techniques are set up primarily to deter, hinder, and prevent the very type of single assassin Agent Margold described—nuts, weirdos, and ego-deprived idiots. There’s a strong historical basis...you know, Lincoln, Garfield, JFK, the attempts on Ford and Reagan...All those assassins were lone nutcases. So our agents study profiles of these people and we train them to react to the modus operandi of that kind of individual.”
    He looked around for a moment to be sure we all understood this significant point. “We’re dealing here with a highly trained team. Maybe two people...maybe a dozen. We can and will vary the President’s movement patterns and protection profiles...But if he’s out in the open, if he’s pressing flesh and smooching babies—”
    “If it’s a manpower issue,” Meany interrupted, “we’ll supplement your people with our agents.”
    “It is a manpower issue. But our agents operate as teams. Throw untrained people in the mix and it would cause problems.” He looked at George and emphasized, “The best thing you can do is find and eliminate the threat before it gets to that point.”
    Mr. Wardell was nobody’s fool—the ball had just been shoved into Meany’s court.
    But to further amplify that point, Wardell added, “We’ll handle the defense, you handle the offense. But let’s be perfectly clear—this game won’t be won on defense.”
    Mr. Wardell had now covered his beloved Service’s ass up, down, and sideways, and three Sundays from Monday.
    I waited for Meany to boot the ball into someone else’s court, but he stared at the wall, perhaps contemplating the effervescent career that once was his. Phyllis broke the somewhat strained silence and asked, “Back to Drummond’s query, Mrs. Hooper. How
would
you like this handled publicity-wise?”
    Instead of responding, Mrs. Hooper turned to Mr. Meany and asked, “How sure are you that this is about the bounty?”
    “We’re not sure of anything. The motive is unknown at this time. Even the note could be a ruse.”
    “For
what
?”
    “Belknap’s murder could have been about Belknap, period. He was the highly public CEO of a major Wall Street firm before he joined the administration, and he made enemies by the bushel. The Secret Service has a thick file of death threats against him. Right, Chuck?”
    “It’s true,” Wardell replied. “The Hawk was not a popular man.”
    George hypothesized, “The note could have been left to throw us off track.” He studied the tabletop a moment before he added, “We have to keep an open mind.”
    Mrs. Hooper thought she saw a straw here and immediately reached for it. “All right. Tell me about the other possibilities.”
    It suddenly struck me that George had been fishing for just this opportunity. He smiled at her and