The next morning DeMarco was sitting in his office, flipping through the paper to see if last nights incident had made the news. It hadnt. A moment later there was a knock on his door, which surprised him as people rarely visited his office. He opened the door. It was Emma.
How did you
DeMarco had started to say How did you find me, then realized that would have been a very silly question.
I just wanted to thank you properly for what you did last night, Emma said. She entered DeMarcos office without being asked, raised an eyebrow at the decor, then handed DeMarco an envelope. Two seats for the Wizards for tomorrow night, right behind the players bench. Ive heard youre a sports fan.
Jeez, thanks, DeMarco said. The tickets must have cost about five hundred bucks. I appreciate the tickets but Id still like to know what happened last night.
Im sorry, Joe, I cant tell you. But as they say in the funnies, you have the thanks of a grateful nation. And, Joe, heres my phone number. She handed DeMarco a card that had nothing on it but a phone number with a 703 area code.
If you ever need help with anything give me a call, Emma said.
Well, DeMarco said, thinking about his current assignment from Mahoney, you wouldnt by any chance know a guy who can crack a safe, would you?
That had been the beginning of a long, often bizarre, relationship which DeMarco had never regretted.
DeMarco did know one small thing about Emma. He had asked the Speaker to run a background check on her shortly after he met her. DeMarco was guessing she was CIA, something Mahoney should be able to confirm easily. Or so DeMarco had thought.
When the Speaker got back to DeMarco, he was as flustered as DeMarco had ever seen him.
Shes ex-DIA, Mahoney said.
The Defense Intelligence Agency was formed by Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara after the debacle at the Bay of Pigs in 1961. Some said it was the organization the CIA wanted to be when it grew up. Not only was it so competent that it rarely made the papers but it was involved in military operations so sensitive and so vital that even ranking politicians feared to challenge them.
When I asked about her, my buddy said hed get back to me. Next thing I know I got two guys in my office so fuckin scary I almost soiled my britches. They wanted to know how I knew her name and why I was askin. Me. The Speaker. Anyway, after I do a song-and-dance routine like goddamn Fred and Ginger, they finally tell me shes ex-DIA and I think the ex part might even be bullshit.
No kiddin, DeMarco had thought.
But thats all theyd tell me, Joe, Mahoney said. Whatever she used to do for them is something they wanna keep buried until the Potomac dries up.
But that was enough for DeMarco: to know the one thing about Emma that explained why Emma never explained.
The sound of a dump truck landing on the bar next to DeMarcos right elbow startled him from his reverie. It turned out not to be a dump truck but Alices purse, fifteen cubic feet of fake leather filled, apparently, with everything she owned.
Without acknowledging DeMarco, Alice signaled to Mr William. He approached tentatively. Mr William was a gregarious person who enjoyed his patrons; Alice was the rare exception.
Black Jack on the rocks, string bean, and make it snappy, Alice said.
Yes, maam, Mr William said. Its difficult for a man six foot six to cower but Mr William managed.
You know, Alice said to DeMarco, since you knew I was coming and you know what I drink, you coulda had my drink waitin for me.
Like your liver would shut down if you got your evening booster shot five minutes late.
Dont be a smart ass.
Mr William delivered her drink then backed away like Michael Jackson doing his moonwalk.
Hey, Alice yelled at him. No peanuts? None of them little goldfish things?
Ill get you some, maam, Mr William said, his face wooden, his eyes bright buttons that warned of impending homicide.
Alice was fifty, with dyed blonde big hair, too much makeup, and twenty pounds she didnt need. She had a husband she referred to as that asshole and a son she called that little jerk. Alice lived for only one thing: the slot machines in Atlantic City, a mecca she pilgrimaged to every weekend. She worked for AT&T.
Alice slugged down half her drink and then began to rummage through her bottomless purse. Here, she said, dropping six wrinkled pages on the bar in front of DeMarco: Billy Mattiss phone records for the last three months.
Assuming Billy was actually involved in the shooting, he had at least one accomplice the guy who pulled the trigger. And if you have an accomplice, DeMarco reasoned, you have to communicate with him. Ergo, one looks at phone bills to see who Billy has been blabbing with lately.
DeMarco realized that if Billy Ray was a professional hit man or an undercover agent for a foreign government, his methods of communication would be more sophisticated than the kitchen telephone. But just looking at Billy Rays file, DeMarco was positive the man was not a mole the Russians had trained from birth, then parachuted into rural Georgia to work his way into the confidences of the American elite.
You know, it was a lot of work to get those records, Alice said to DeMarco as she stuffed peanuts in her mouth. To Mr William she yelled, Hey, stilts! If it aint too much trouble, how bout another one here.
Alice, DeMarco said, who are you kidding? You hit maybe three keys on your keyboard to get this stuff.
How would you know? Alice said. You work for the phone company too, Mr Big Shot? Anyway, Im a little short this month.
Alice was a little short every month. DeMarco suspected the only thing keeping the loan sharks bat from her wrinkled kneecaps was the monthly retainer he paid her.
As Alice droned on about the state of the economy in general and her personal finances in particular, DeMarco looked at Billy Mattiss phone records. Alices computer had provided names and addresses of people and businesses Billy had called from his home phone and using his calling card. DeMarco would have Emmas people check out the names to see if anyone was noteworthy, but nothing leaped out at him: no calls to businesses that made spotting scopes or sniper rifles and most important, no calls to the late Harold Edwards.
The only strange thing he did find was that in June Billy had called a Jillian Mattis twenty times in a two-week period. Jillian Mattis, DeMarco remembered from Billys personnel file, was Billys mother. He looked at the previous months bill and saw that Billy had only called his mother four times. The high number of calls began two weeks after he had been assigned to the Presidents security detail. DeMarco realized that Billys increased phone calls to his mother during this period could have a number of mundane explanations. Maybe shed been sick around that time and he was just checking on her. Or maybe Billy was planning to visit her and was finalizing his plans. Or maybe Billy was a closet mamas boy.
Well, Alice said.
Well what? DeMarco said. He hadnt heard a word shed said for the last five minutes.
Can you give me an advance?
Yeah, DeMarco said. Giving in to Alice was easier than haggling with Alice. And Lord knows Trump could use the money.
Can you give me an advance?
Yeah, DeMarco said. Giving in to Alice was easier than haggling with Alice. And Lord knows Trump could use the money.
9
Middleburg, Virginia, was fifty miles west of the capital, a picture-postcard of a town surrounded by rolling green hills that were once Civil War battlefields. The battlefields were now white-fenced pastures where well-bred horses pranced. Wealthy Washingtonians bought land near Middleburg, and on weekends attended steeplechases and pretended they were country squires.
Frank Engles was not a country squire; he owned a bed-and-breakfast. His establishment was a multihued Victorian with leaded-glass windows and sun-catching dormers and was as romantic as a bouquet of roses. It was the sort of place DeMarco might have chosen to take a girlfriend to spend a fall weekend if he had a girlfriend.
DeMarco had told General Banks he needed to talk to someone who knew Billy and understood the Secret Services promotion practices. Banks had his people contact the Services human resources department and they very fortunately came up with Frank Engles. The very fortunate part was that just before he retired Engles had supervised Billy.
A plump, white-haired woman wearing an apron dusted with flour answered the doorbell. She told DeMarco he would find Engles behind the house doing some chores. He walked around the house as directed and saw a man in the backyard splitting wood. The mans back was to DeMarco. Lying on the ground near the man was a dog.
DeMarco liked dogs that were cuddly and came only to his knee. The dog he was now looking at was a German shepherd the size of a Shetland pony and as cuddly as a polar bear. The beasts head swiveled toward DeMarco like a gun turret, and then it gave a single yelp and charged. DeMarco, in turn, did what he always did when confronted by a hundred-and-twenty-pound canine moving in his direction with its teeth exposed: he stood completely still, tried to look unthreatening, and wished like hell he was armed.
Engles finally noticed the tableau behind him: DeMarco frozen in mid-stride, trying not to quiver like a flushed quail, and his four-legged monster in a ready-to-lunge position. The retired agent came trotting over to DeMarco and with a little chuckle said what dog owners always say: Hey, dont worry about Ol Bullet. Hes just bein friendly.
Engles was in his early sixties. He wore faded jeans and a yellow T-shirt with I VIRGINIA on it. He had wary-looking gray eyes, a nose that had been broken more than once, and there was a bald spot on the back of his head that looked like a monks tonsure. The tonsure, combined with his broken nose, gave him the appearance of a priest who didnt turn the other cheek.
Since DeMarco wanted Engless cooperation he didnt tell him he should keep his pet wolf shackled to a short chain and muzzled. Instead he said, Yeah, looks like a really friendly pooch. The dog was now sniffing DeMarcos groin.
Mr Engles, DeMarco said, trying to ignore the damn dog, Im Joe DeMarco. I work for Congress. DeMarco flipped open a leather half wallet and showed Engles his congressional security pass.
Congress? Engles said, glancing down at DeMarcos credentials then back up at DeMarcos face. DeMarco was willing to bet that Engles had just memorized every word on his security pass.
Yes, sir, DeMarco said. Im here concerning the recent assassination attempt on the President. As you may have heard, theres a committee taking a hard look at the Presidents security. Id just like to ask you a few questions.
Seems to me Congress oughta do their own damn job, Engles grumbled, and let the experts take care of security.
DeMarco gave him an embarrassed half smile, and said, Confidentially, I agree with you, sir, but when my boss says ride, I hop on my horse.
The Im-just-a-working-stiff routine worked.
Yeah, sure, Engles said. Come on up to the house. Ill buy you a cup of coffee and you can ask your questions. Bullet! Get off that mans suit. Dogs so darn friendly hed just lick a robber to death.
Dog owners always say that too.
Engles took DeMarco to a kitchen that smelled of apples and cinnamon and had a fireplace big enough for a Yule log. It was a comfortable, cheery room and he could imagine generations of grandkids licking the spoon from the icing bowl. Engles poured coffee into two large mugs and they took seats at a sturdy wooden table. Ol Bullet flopped down on the floor near Engless chair.
So what do you need from me? Engles asked as he added cream to his coffee. Im retired, you know.
Were taking a look at agent-selection procedures, Mr Engles. Were particularly interested in how the inside ring is picked. You know: experience requirements, qualification criteria, that sort of thing.
The wes were for Engless benefit. DeMarco was hoping hed imagine an army of marching gray bureaucrats, the full and ponderous weight of government behind his mission.
Whats goin on here? Engles said. You can get all that stuff right from the departments personnel office. They have write-ups about training programs, selection guidelines, qualification criteria, all that crap. You didnt drive down here for that. Why are you really here?
So much for the ponderous weight of government.
Yeah, youre right, DeMarco said, feeling like hed been caught trying to hold up Santa Claus. Were curious about one agent who was at Chattooga River. A man you supervised before you retired.
Who is it? asked Engles.
Billy Ray Mattis.
You think Mattis shouldnt have been assigned to that detail? Is that what this is all about?
Not necessarily, but he was the youngest and least-experienced agent on duty that morning.
DeMarco knew Billy was the youngest agent based on the video; he was guessing he was the least experienced.
You guys know Mattis took a bullet for the President in Indiana? Engles asked.
Yeah, Ive seen his record. Is that why you selected him, because of Indiana?
Engles went silent, his hands betraying his nervousness as they squeezed the coffee mug in front of him. Ol Bullet sensed the change in his masters mood. The mutts eyes locked onto DeMarcos jugular and from his throat came a low, rumbling sound. Engles reached down and ruffled the fur on the dogs thick neck, calming it, while he thought about DeMarcos question.
When Engles still didnt respond, DeMarco said, Look, Im not trying to pin a rose on Billy Mattis. I just want to know why he was picked for the most sensitive assignment in the Service.
Maybe its me youre trying to pin the rose on, Engles said.
Mr Engles, you retired before the assassination attempt. Theres no way you can be held culpable for anything.
Yeah, right, he said.
His voice oozing false sincerity, DeMarco said, All we want to do, sir, is make sure the President continues to have the best security in the world the kind of security men like you have always provided. He hoped Ol Bullet couldnt smell the bullshit in the air.
Engles looked at DeMarco, looked away, and then looked back. He cleared his throat.
I didnt select Mattis, he said. Every other man who worked for me, I handpicked. But with Mattis, one day I just get word hes being moved into my unit. When I asked why, I was told not to make waves. Somebody doing a favor for somebody. Happens all the time.