First Family

CHAPTER 54

JANE COX had not entrusted the task of checking the post office box to her staff. It was too important. The dilemma was, as First Lady, it was nearly impossible to go anywhere without an enormous entourage. By law, the president and First Lady could not travel unaccompanied.

She came downstairs from the First Family's quarters. She had a rare two hours where she had nothing to do, so she'd informed her chief of staff that she wanted to go for a ride. She had done this every day since receiving the letter. She had put her foot down, though. No motorcade. One limo and one tail car. She had insisted on this.

It wasn't Cadillac One or what the Service referred to as "the Beast," the ten-thousand-pound nearly nuclear-attack-proof ride that was reserved for the president or the First Couple when they traveled together by car. In truth, she hated riding in the Beast. The windows were phonebook thick and you couldn't hear a single sound from outside. It felt suffocating, like you were underwater or on another planet.

Three agents rode with her in the limo, six others in the tail SUV. The agents were not pleased with this arrangement, but they took some comfort from the fact that no one could know the First Lady was even inside the vehicle. Many limos left the White House at all hours, and the First Lady's public schedule listed no trips today. Still, they kept a constant vigil as they tracked through the streets of D.C.

At her instruction, the car stopped across the street from a nondescript Mail Boxes Etc. shop in the city's southwest quadrant. From this vantage point Jane could see directly through the store window to the line of post office boxes against one wall. She wrapped a scarf around her head, put a hat on over this and tugged it down low. Sunglasses covered her eyes. She put up the collar of her overcoat.

"Ma'am, please," said her security detail chief. "We haven't cleared the shop."

"You haven't cleared the shop anytime since I started coming here," she said imperturbably. "And exactly nothing has happened."

"But if something does, ma'am…" His voice trailed off, the strain in his eyes clear. If something did go wrong, his career was over. The rest of the detail looked just as anxious. None of them wanted to blow their careers up over this.

"I told you before, I will accept all responsibility."

"But it could be a trap."

"I will accept all responsibility."

"But it's our job to protect you."

"And it's my job to make decisions about my family. You can watch from the car, but you are not to leave the vehicle for any reason."

"Ma'am, rest assured, I will leave this vehicle if I see you threatened in any way."

"Fine. I can live with that."

As soon as she left the car, the lead agent said, "Shit." Under his breath he added another word that rhymed perfectly with "twitch."

All faces in the two cars, including four using high-powered optics, were glued to the glass watching the First Lady cross the street and enter the shop. Unknown to Jane Cox, there were three Secret Service agents already in the shop, all dressed casually and ostensibly customers, plus two more in the rear guarding that entry. The Service was well used to dealing with high-spirited, demanding, and independent-minded First Family members.

Jane went directly to the mailbox, used her key to open it, and found nothing there. She was back in the car in under a minute.

"Drive," she said, as she sank back against the leather.

"Ma'am," said the detail leader. "Is there anything we can help you with here?"

"No one can help me," she said defiantly, but her voice broke slightly.

The ride back to the White House was made in silence. The moment the First Lady had left the White House Aaron Betack had gone into action. Under the pretense of doing a routine bug sweep of the corridor where the First Lady's office was situated, he entered her suite and asked the staff members there to step outside while the check was conducted.

It only took him a minute to go into the First Lady's inner office, pick the lock of her desk drawer, find the letter, make a copy of it, and return the original to the desk. He glanced at the contents of the paper before thrusting it in his suit pocket.

It was the first time in his government career that he'd ever done anything like that. He had in fact just committed a criminal act for which he would pull several hard years in a federal prison if he were ever caught.

Somehow, it seemed worth every minute of such a sentence.