become a suspect. His daily reports, his shift schedules, and his expense accounts would be scrutinized. Such Secret Service paperwork, with its strict accounting of hours, was designed to fix blame and was a powerful tool to use against agents during internal investigations.
In the command post, Garrison found a classified E-mail message from Breckinridge on his computer. In it she mentioned that she'd come up with what looked like a telephone number on the Aryan Disciples threat letter received shortly after Meriweather's death, but that a preliminary investigation indicated that the phone number wasn't a local one and that more investigation was required. He appreciated her keeping him informed.
"How do you like the Frau detail, Pete?"
Garrison turned. "Long time no see, Roland."
Roland Prefontaine was Garrison's predecessor on the First Lady Detail. He was a natty dresser and his hair and mustache were neatly trimmed. His olive complexion seemed to match his necktie.
"So far, it's a walk," said Garrison.
"Bored?"
"I'm getting used to it."
"They put me in the Foreign Dignitary Protection Division. I just spent two weeks protecting the President of Guinea while he was traveling to power plants in Texas."
Garrison nodded. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Go."
"Why did you leave her detail?"
"You tell me."
Garrison stared. "You really don't know?" Prefontaine said coldly. "One day I came to work and I had transfer orders waiting for me. She said she didn't know anything about it. I figured Wintergreen was making room for one of his fair-haired boys. Was he?"
"If I'd wormed my way into the job, I wouldn't be asking you what happened, would I?"
"Who knows? All I know is that I got the boot. If you didn't arrange it, then the only thing I can figure is that I pissed someone off. Maybe someone figured I knew too much."
"You mean about D day and all that."
"The Frau was interested in what the Man was up to with Pierpont, and asked me a few questions about what I had heard. I dummied up because I didn't want to get involved. Later, she hinted that she would like to find out what was going on. I didn't bite. I just wasn't going to put myself in a cross between her and the man. I'm not saying that is the reason I was forced to walk the plank, but it's a possibility. But what the hell. I'm not the first agent to get shuffled off a detail because someone thought he knew too much."
"Well, I had nothing to do with it."
"The way I see it, after you got in your jam with that pie-thrower, you knew you were on your way out the door. Maybe you thought weaseling your way onto her detail was a way to stay assigned at the House until you could slide back in with the Man himself."
Garrison stood. "I just told you I had nothing to do with it," he said staring him in the eye.
"Good luck in the assignment."
Prefontaine headed for the door.
Garrison sat and mulled over what Prefontaine had said. Maybe he was right. Maybe the President had been trying to limit agents from learning too much about First Family marital problems. During the Clinton scandals, Garrison had seen both agents and supervisors go and come from the White House. But it didn't matter. He had other things to think about: like an assassination conspiracy.
****
CHAPTER 11
THE NEXT MORNING Garrison hurried down a White House corridor, heading for the South Lawn.
"Garrison," someone shouted from inside the pressroom.
He stopped. Joe Kretchvane came to the doorway, smiling broadly. He was a journalist whose unauthorized biographies of Presidents Bush and Clinton and other VIPs had caused them great embarrassment. His writing technique was to ferret out unbecoming details from his target's enemies.
"Good morning, Joe."
"Agent Garrison. The Dragon Lady's Man Friday. Do you have a moment?"
"Not really."
"What's this I hear about a big Presidential threat investigation?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"I hear there's a divorce in the wind."
"Mine was
In the command post, Garrison found a classified E-mail message from Breckinridge on his computer. In it she mentioned that she'd come up with what looked like a telephone number on the Aryan Disciples threat letter received shortly after Meriweather's death, but that a preliminary investigation indicated that the phone number wasn't a local one and that more investigation was required. He appreciated her keeping him informed.
"How do you like the Frau detail, Pete?"
Garrison turned. "Long time no see, Roland."
Roland Prefontaine was Garrison's predecessor on the First Lady Detail. He was a natty dresser and his hair and mustache were neatly trimmed. His olive complexion seemed to match his necktie.
"So far, it's a walk," said Garrison.
"Bored?"
"I'm getting used to it."
"They put me in the Foreign Dignitary Protection Division. I just spent two weeks protecting the President of Guinea while he was traveling to power plants in Texas."
Garrison nodded. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Go."
"Why did you leave her detail?"
"You tell me."
Garrison stared. "You really don't know?" Prefontaine said coldly. "One day I came to work and I had transfer orders waiting for me. She said she didn't know anything about it. I figured Wintergreen was making room for one of his fair-haired boys. Was he?"
"If I'd wormed my way into the job, I wouldn't be asking you what happened, would I?"
"Who knows? All I know is that I got the boot. If you didn't arrange it, then the only thing I can figure is that I pissed someone off. Maybe someone figured I knew too much."
"You mean about D day and all that."
"The Frau was interested in what the Man was up to with Pierpont, and asked me a few questions about what I had heard. I dummied up because I didn't want to get involved. Later, she hinted that she would like to find out what was going on. I didn't bite. I just wasn't going to put myself in a cross between her and the man. I'm not saying that is the reason I was forced to walk the plank, but it's a possibility. But what the hell. I'm not the first agent to get shuffled off a detail because someone thought he knew too much."
"Well, I had nothing to do with it."
"The way I see it, after you got in your jam with that pie-thrower, you knew you were on your way out the door. Maybe you thought weaseling your way onto her detail was a way to stay assigned at the House until you could slide back in with the Man himself."
Garrison stood. "I just told you I had nothing to do with it," he said staring him in the eye.
"Good luck in the assignment."
Prefontaine headed for the door.
Garrison sat and mulled over what Prefontaine had said. Maybe he was right. Maybe the President had been trying to limit agents from learning too much about First Family marital problems. During the Clinton scandals, Garrison had seen both agents and supervisors go and come from the White House. But it didn't matter. He had other things to think about: like an assassination conspiracy.
****
CHAPTER 11
THE NEXT MORNING Garrison hurried down a White House corridor, heading for the South Lawn.
"Garrison," someone shouted from inside the pressroom.
He stopped. Joe Kretchvane came to the doorway, smiling broadly. He was a journalist whose unauthorized biographies of Presidents Bush and Clinton and other VIPs had caused them great embarrassment. His writing technique was to ferret out unbecoming details from his target's enemies.
"Good morning, Joe."
"Agent Garrison. The Dragon Lady's Man Friday. Do you have a moment?"
"Not really."
"What's this I hear about a big Presidential threat investigation?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"I hear there's a divorce in the wind."
"Mine was
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