Cut and Thrust

6

They were seated at half a dozen tables by the pool, having served themselves from the buffet, when Stone looked up and saw two Secret Service agents where they had not been before. Then there was another pair, and another. Kate affected not to notice, but Will Lee crooked a finger at Mervin Beam, and he approached the table. They exchanged whispers, then Beam walked around the area with another agent.

“Everything all right?” Stone asked the president, who was sitting across the table from him.

“I think so,” Will replied quietly. “If there are any further concerns, they’ll move us inside.” He quickly changed the subject. “By the way, Stone, you recall the drone strike we watched together at the Carlyle a few weeks ago?”

“How could I forget that?”

“We’ve confirmed since that our effort was successful with all six of the subjects.”

“Congratulations. I hope you don’t have to take any heat for that.”

“You know, during World War Two, we and the British killed tens of thousands of civilians during bombing raids on strategic targets in Europe — and a hundred thousand in Tokyo in a single night — and though people thought civilian raids were regrettable, they understood the reason for them. Now, when a terrorist’s wife or child become collateral damage, there’s an uproar.”

“When an active terrorist hides in the bosom of his family, he’s responsible for putting them at risk, isn’t he?” Stone asked.

“My view exactly,” Will said. “Unstopped, those men would have been responsible for hundreds of deaths in Middle Eastern and European cities, and perhaps some in this country. While I’m still in office, I’ll keep hunting them down.”

As the table was being cleared, Beam approached the president again and whispered. Will spoke up. “You know, it’s beginning to be a little chilly in this desert air, why don’t we have dessert in the house?”

Stone herded the group inside, and they settled around the big living room while waiters served them dessert. Will came and sat next to Stone.

“You know, I took that e-mail to Beam more seriously than Kate did. I’m not sure what it was, but something in that message raised the hair on the back of my neck.”

“I’ll certainly trust your instincts, Will,” Stone said. “Nothing wrong with being cautious.”

“Kate can be a little too cavalier about these things,” the president said.

The party broke up around ten, and the Lees’ group walked back to the presidential cottage.

“We’ve got to go, too, Dad,” Peter said when they had gone. “This is an early town, you know.”

“I’ve heard that,” Stone said.

Peter handed him a card. “This is the address. It’s a couple of blocks off Sunset. Come at six.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Stone said.

The kids said their good nights and left, then Stone ordered after-dinner drinks for his guests. Billy and Betsy Burnett stayed on for a drink.

“What was that about?” Dino asked. “The thing with the Secret Service?”

“They got a death threat on Kate e-mailed to them last night,” Stone said. “I expect it was something to do with that, but at least nobody had to draw a weapon.”

“What we need,” Dino said, “is a secret method for instantly determining the location that any e-mail is sent from.”

“It’s being worked on,” Mike Freeman said, “but don’t expect to read about it in the papers. The political climate isn’t good right now for new intelligence initiatives.”

“I’m happy for them to read my e-mails and track my phone calls,” Stone said. “We live in a new and dangerous world, and it’s not going to stop anytime soon.”

“I wish I could disagree with you,” Mike said.

“How did your security meeting go today?” Stone asked.

“The Democrats are going to have the most secure convention in history,” Mike replied. “And Staples Center is going to be the most wired and camera-ready venue ever. Not to mention the shoe leather on the ground.”

“Sounds good to me,” Stone said.

“We’re going to have a new shield system in operation,” Mike said. “We press a button and a two-inch-thick bulletproof glass wall will rise from the floor to a height of ten feet and protects about the central third of the stage. If you see that coming up, you’ll know there’s a very real threat.”

“Do the candidates know about that?” Stone asked.

“The Secret Service is certainly in on it — whether they’ll share it with the candidates is up to them, but it will certainly go up when the nominee and the president speak.”

“Very good.”

“Where are your convention seats?” Mike asked Stone.

“I’ve got a skybox,” Stone replied. “Remember? You helped me get it.”

“So you have,” Mike said. “From there, it will be like watching the world’s largest flat-screen TV.”

“And we can turn down the noise during the demonstrations on the floor. That’s the part of conventions that has always bored me rigid.”

“And the glass window in your box will be the same as for the platform shield,” Mike said.

“That’s very comforting,” Stone replied. “You’ll have to join us.”

“I’ll be in our control center,” Mike said, “or patrolling the floor with a handheld radio.”

“We’ll wave,” Stone said.

Later, as Billy and Betsy were leaving, Billy called Stone aside. “I have some thoughts about that e-mail sent to the Secret Service office,” he said.

“Tell me.”

“It’s an inside job.”

“Why do you think so?”

“No one on the outside would even know of the existence of that e-mail address, but if there are half a dozen insiders who know about it, then there’s a very good chance others in the office know about it, too.”

“You have a very good point, Billy.”

“I’d be willing to bet that if they can trace the e-mail back to one computer, it will turn out to be one in their offices.”

“Then I hope they trace it back soon,” Stone said, “because they’re very short of time.”