he usually had a joke to tell. Sometimes I'd do the children just for fun. They liked it, even the boy. They'd play in front of the TV, and the crews would give them tapes and . . .”
“It's okay.” Ryan took her hand. Finally he'd met someone on the staff who wasn't all business, and who didn't make him feel like an animal in the zoo. “What's your name?”
“Mary Abbot.” Her eyes were running, and she wanted to apologize.
“How long have you been here?”
“Since right before Mr. Carter left.” Mrs. Abbot wiped her eyes and steadied down.
“Well, maybe I should ask you for advice,” he said gently.
“Oh, no, I don't know anything about that.” She managed an embarrassed smile.
“Neither do I. I guess I'll just have to find out.” Ryan looked in the mirror. “Finished?”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Abbot.”
They sat him in an armed wooden chair. The lights were already set up, which brought the room temperature into the low eighties, or so it felt. A technician clipped a two-headed microphone to his tie with movements as delicate as Mrs. Abbot's, all because there was a Secret Service agent hovering over every member of the crew, with Andrea Price hovering over them all from the doorway. Her eyes were narrow and suspicious, despite the fact that every single piece of gear in the room had been inspected, every visitor scanned continuously by eyes as casually intense and thorough as a surgeon's. One really could make a pistol out of non-metallic composites—the movie was right about that—but pistols were still bulky. The palpable tension of the Detail carried over to the TV crew, who kept their hands in the open, and only moved them slowly. The scrutiny of the Secret Service could rattle almost anyone.
“Two minutes,” the producer said, cued by his earpiece. “Just went into commercial.”
“Get any sleep last night?” CNN's chief White House correspondent asked. Like everyone else, he wanted a quick and clear read on the new President.
“Not enough,” Jack replied, suddenly tense. There were two cameras. He crossed his legs and clasped his hands in his lap in order to avoid nervous movements. How, exactly, was he supposed to appear? Grave? Grief-stricken? Quietly confident? Overwhelmed? It was a little late for that now. Why hadn't he asked Arnie before?
“Thirty seconds,” the producer said.
Jack tried to compose himself. His physical posture would keep his body still. Just answer the questions. You've been doing that long enough.
“Eight minutes after the hour,” the correspondent said directly into the camera behind Jack. "We're here in the White House with President John Ryan.
“Mr. President, it's been a long night, hasn't it?”
“I'm afraid it has,” Ryan agreed.
“What can you tell us?”
“Recovery operations are under way, as you know. President Curling's body has not yet been found. The investigation is going on under the coordination of the FBI.”
“Have they discovered anything?”
“We'll probably have a few things to say later today, but it's too early right now.” Despite the fact that the correspondent had been fully briefed on that issue, Ryan saw the disappointment in his eyes.
“Why the FBI? Isn't the Secret Service empowered to—”
“This is no time for a turf fight. An investigation like this has to go on at once. Therefore, I decided that the FBI would be the lead agency—under the Department of Justice, and with the assistance of other federal agencies. We want answers, we want them fast, and this seems the best way to make that happen.”
“It's been reported that you've appointed a new FBI Director.”
Jack nodded. “Yes, Barry, I have. For the moment I've asked Daniel E. Murray to step in as acting Director. Dan is a career FBI agent whose last job was special assistant to Director Shaw. We've known each other for many years, Mr. Murray is one of the best cops in government
“It's okay.” Ryan took her hand. Finally he'd met someone on the staff who wasn't all business, and who didn't make him feel like an animal in the zoo. “What's your name?”
“Mary Abbot.” Her eyes were running, and she wanted to apologize.
“How long have you been here?”
“Since right before Mr. Carter left.” Mrs. Abbot wiped her eyes and steadied down.
“Well, maybe I should ask you for advice,” he said gently.
“Oh, no, I don't know anything about that.” She managed an embarrassed smile.
“Neither do I. I guess I'll just have to find out.” Ryan looked in the mirror. “Finished?”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Abbot.”
They sat him in an armed wooden chair. The lights were already set up, which brought the room temperature into the low eighties, or so it felt. A technician clipped a two-headed microphone to his tie with movements as delicate as Mrs. Abbot's, all because there was a Secret Service agent hovering over every member of the crew, with Andrea Price hovering over them all from the doorway. Her eyes were narrow and suspicious, despite the fact that every single piece of gear in the room had been inspected, every visitor scanned continuously by eyes as casually intense and thorough as a surgeon's. One really could make a pistol out of non-metallic composites—the movie was right about that—but pistols were still bulky. The palpable tension of the Detail carried over to the TV crew, who kept their hands in the open, and only moved them slowly. The scrutiny of the Secret Service could rattle almost anyone.
“Two minutes,” the producer said, cued by his earpiece. “Just went into commercial.”
“Get any sleep last night?” CNN's chief White House correspondent asked. Like everyone else, he wanted a quick and clear read on the new President.
“Not enough,” Jack replied, suddenly tense. There were two cameras. He crossed his legs and clasped his hands in his lap in order to avoid nervous movements. How, exactly, was he supposed to appear? Grave? Grief-stricken? Quietly confident? Overwhelmed? It was a little late for that now. Why hadn't he asked Arnie before?
“Thirty seconds,” the producer said.
Jack tried to compose himself. His physical posture would keep his body still. Just answer the questions. You've been doing that long enough.
“Eight minutes after the hour,” the correspondent said directly into the camera behind Jack. "We're here in the White House with President John Ryan.
“Mr. President, it's been a long night, hasn't it?”
“I'm afraid it has,” Ryan agreed.
“What can you tell us?”
“Recovery operations are under way, as you know. President Curling's body has not yet been found. The investigation is going on under the coordination of the FBI.”
“Have they discovered anything?”
“We'll probably have a few things to say later today, but it's too early right now.” Despite the fact that the correspondent had been fully briefed on that issue, Ryan saw the disappointment in his eyes.
“Why the FBI? Isn't the Secret Service empowered to—”
“This is no time for a turf fight. An investigation like this has to go on at once. Therefore, I decided that the FBI would be the lead agency—under the Department of Justice, and with the assistance of other federal agencies. We want answers, we want them fast, and this seems the best way to make that happen.”
“It's been reported that you've appointed a new FBI Director.”
Jack nodded. “Yes, Barry, I have. For the moment I've asked Daniel E. Murray to step in as acting Director. Dan is a career FBI agent whose last job was special assistant to Director Shaw. We've known each other for many years, Mr. Murray is one of the best cops in government
Similar Books
