Conspiracy

145

There was a perceptible uptick in the energy level of the President’s aides as Marcke entered the back of the banquet hall where he was to give the keynote address to a group of entertainment executives. The number of BlackBerries being consulted at any one moment doubled; men and women tilted their heads forward ever so slightly as they walked.

The chief of staff veered to the side of the bubble to take a phone call.

The President, though he couldn’t have helped but notice, continued into the reception area, shaking hands and smiling as he greeted the guests. Dean glanced at the Secret Service agents fanned out around Marcke. They watched the crowd warily, eyes sweeping indiscriminately, checking and rechecking. A few of the guests pulled back under their stare, but the President seemed not to notice his bodyguards or their concerns, plunging deeper into the crowd.

“Hard to watch what’s going on in a place like this,” Dean said to a Secret Service agent he’d been introduced to earlier. The man, concentrating on a nearby doorway, grunted.

As the President reached the entrance to the main reception hall, his chief of staff, Ted Cohen, approached from his left and touched his elbow. Marcke bent toward Cohen, listened to a whisper, and then nodded before continuing into the hall. Dean followed along, now at the back edge of the bubble. The buzz in the room grew louder. All eyes except the Secret Service agents’ either were on the President or were trying to get there. There was wonder and awe in people’s faces; Dean realized he must have looked that way, too, when he first met Marcke.

“Charlie, we’re going to go back to Washington after this,” said Cohen, sidling up next to him. “The President has a problem to deal with. Are you coming with us or staying here?”

“I don’t know,” said Dean. “I’ll have to check in and find out.”

“There’s food in the room there for staff,” Cohen added.

“The President wants you to stay close. Is that all right?”

“Of course.”

Dean found a quiet spot in the hallway. Pretending to use his sat phone, he turned his com system on.

“This is Dean.”

“Hey, Charlie, how’s it going?” said Rockman in the Art Room.

“I’m all right. The President is cutting short his trip and flying back to D.C. to night. What am I supposed to do?”

“Stand by.”

Dean glanced down the hall. Beside the Secret Service agents, there were men from the LA Police Department and two federal marshals who’d been called in for extra protection.

“Charlie, this is Chris Farlekas. How are you?”

“I’m fine, Chris.”

“If the President doesn’t need you, we’d like you to stay in LA and help look for Ball. We’re pretty sure he’s in Los Angeles. We’re supposed to get an update from the research people and the FBI people at ten p.m. Ambassador Jackson will be on the conference call. A Secret Service agent named John Mandarin will be in charge. He’s traveling with the McSweeney campaign but will be back at the local office by then. We’ll plug you into the circuit.”

“The President still may want to talk to me,” said Dean.

“Why?”

“He didn’t say.”

“He’s the boss,” said Farlekas. “Let us know when you’re free.”

The applause that greeted the end of the President’s speech was polite but not particularly enthusiastic. The President had told the movie and television moguls how important their industry was to the country and in the course noted several times how profitable it was. They — rightly — interpreted that to mean they weren’t getting the production tax breaks they’d been lobbying for. He could have suggested government censorship and received a more enthusiastic response.

One of the chief of staff’s aides gave Dean the heads-up, and Dean went with her to the presidential limo.

“Mr. Dean, I hope you had a good meal,” said the President when Dean reached the car. “Ted got me a doggie bag.

Come on and ride with me. We’re going to visit Senator McSweeney.”

Dean realized he must have looked surprised, because the President laughed.

“I hope he’s as surprised as you are,” said Marcke. “I planned on doing this tomorrow, but this is even better. I want to see if what he tells me is any different from what he told you.”