King and Maxwell

CHAPTER 60

“HAVEN’T BEEN HERE IN A WHILE,” said Sean as the SUV they were riding in pulled through the gates that were capable of stopping a runaway tank.

“Yeah, and the last time wasn’t very pleasant,” noted Michelle.

“Yeah, that I remember.”

They were escorted into the West Wing of the White House.

“You never pulled presidential protection duty, did you?” said Sean.

“My career ended before I got there,” she said. “One of my few regrets.”

“It’s not all its cracked up to be.”

“Liar,” she said, flicking her elbow lightly into his side.

They were shown into the Roosevelt Room and told to wait.

As Sean wandered the room gazing at several famous paintings on the wall, Michelle said, “Recognize any of the protection detail?”

“Been gone too long. All my contemporaries are off double-dipping at other agencies. You?”

“The woman outside the hospital looked familiar, but I never knew her name.”

“Jealous?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You get to work with me full-time.”

“Doesn’t change my answer.”

“Thanks a lot.”

The door opened and the lead agent walked in, followed by President Cole and the rest of his detail. Sean and Michelle instantly rose to their feet and waited until Cole sat across from them before resuming their seats.

Cole stared across at them.

“Blogger?”

“Yes, sir,” said Sean.

“What do you know about it?”

Sean didn’t answer right away. He was trying to size up the question and the intent behind it. “George Carlton. Independent. Not tied to any news agency.”

“You went to see him?”

“So your people have been following us?” asked Michelle.

“No. They had Carlton’s place staked out. You showed up. One reason that prompted this meeting.”

Sean studied Cole. The man seemed to have aged ten years since they had last seen him at Camp David.

He’s thinking this is his Watergate, thought Sean.

“I’m surprised that the Feds hadn’t already visited him.”

“Free speech. Fourth Estate,” responded Cole. “Tricky thing. I’m not looking to censure the media. I get accused of enough crap without fueling that fire. But you’re not the government. You maybe can do things we can’t do.”

“And then share them with you?” asked Michelle.

Sean glanced nervously at her.

Cole said, “I thought we agreed that that’s exactly what you would do? Work this thing together. Starting with finding Sam Wingo by using your connection with the son.”

Sean glanced again at Michelle but said nothing.

Cole added, “And if you’re covering for your buddies at Hoover, I already know the FBI lost the boy.”

“We apparently don’t have buddies at Hoover, sir,” said Michelle.

Cole shrugged. “This ends right, it’s no harm no foul, as far as I’m concerned.”

“That’s very generous of you, sir,” said Sean, although the look on his face did not match his words.

Cole did not seem to notice, or if he did, he did not seem to care.

Sean said, “So Iran? That’s what we were doing?”

“Not as simple as that, no.”

“Money for weapons to fuel insurgents in Iran. With North Korea next on the drawing board?”

“Who told you that?”

“Private investigators, sir. We have to maintain confidences.”

“Just as we are with you,” added Michelle.

“So if it’s not that simple, can you enlighten us?” asked Sean.

“Why?”

“We have to know the big picture if we’re going to make a dent in this, Mr. President.”

Cole stared at him for a few seconds before leaning back against the couch. “As was mentioned in that stupid blog, the euros were going to purchase poppies for heroin production. Not really, of course, the poppies would never be used for drug making. At least not by us.”

“But you needed a way to launder the euros,” speculated Sean. “Before they got to their final destination.”

Cole nodded. “The purchased poppies would end up in a third party’s hands.”

“Let me guess,” said Sean. “An international arms dealer?”

“And then the weapons obtained in return for the poppies would make their way to Iran.”

“And what would the arms dealer do with the poppies?”

“I said the poppies would not be used by us for making heroin. I can’t speak for anyone else.”

“Permission to speak candidly, Mr. President?” said Sean.

“Considering you’re no longer in the Secret Service, you can speak candidly whenever you want.”

“Whoever came up with this plan needs to be fired, sir.”

“It’s idiotic,” added Michelle. “With so many ways it could go wrong. And did.”

Cole’s face flushed but then his anger quickly subsided. “I accepted the person’s resignation two days ago. Not that that matters. The buck stops with me. I authorized it. I own it.”

The room was quiet for a few seconds.

Cole said, “The blogger?”

“Out of the game,” said Sean. “He knew nothing about his source.”

“You believe him?”

“I can read fear in a man’s eyes,” said Sean. “He was clueless. Just looking for the next big scoop.”

“Do you have leads to the source?”

“Working on that right now.”

“If it came by email my people could work back to the source, but–”

“That tricky balance thing,” said Michelle. “Free speech, the Fourth Estate.”

“Right. A scandal is one thing. Perhaps survivable. Covering up the scandal is unforgivable.”

“Then let us do our thing, Mr. President,” said Sean.

“Can you find Sam Wingo?”

“I believe so.”

“Do you think he’s involved in this?”

“We think he was set up.”

“By whom?”

“Not clear yet. But we have some leads and we’re running them down.”

The president rose. “Then I should let you get on with it. I have an appointment outside the office.”

Sean and Michelle stood.

“Thank you, sir,” said Sean.

“Anything I can do, let me know. I can’t drop everything I’m doing, but this is a priority for me.”

“Understood.”

Sean and Michelle followed at a distance as Cole and his protection detail, surrounding him in a hard diamond pattern, walked down the passageway.

They went outside where the motorcade was waiting.

The presidential limo, known as the Beast, sat there with its engine running. D.C. cops had already cleared all roads the motorcade would travel on. The Beast did not stop for red lights or anything else.

Before the door was closed Cole looked up at them. “I’m counting on you both.”

Then the motorcade was off.

Michelle looked wistful as the long line of vehicles sped away.

“It is impressive,” said Sean.

“Yeah,” said Michelle.

“But it gets old fast.”

She snorted. “Right.”

“This way,” said a Secret Service agent.

They were driven back to their vehicle outside the hospital.

As they climbed into the Land Cruiser, Sean, noting his partner’s subdued look, said, “That was your past, Michelle. You can’t live in the past.”

“Sure you can, Sean. If you’re not too thrilled with your future.”