President's assassin

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

We set down in the parking lot of Ferguson Home Security Electronics at 4:45 a.m. The building was lit up like Macy's, no doubt causing the neighbors to wonder if they were missing out on an early-bird fire sale. At least-this being Washington-I'm sure the one thought that never crossed anybody's mind was whether some secretive government agency was operating this building as a facade. How did I get involved with these people?

Phyllis awaited us in the parking lot. She handed a small paper bag to Jennie, a small paper bag to me, and said, "Toothbrushes, toothpastes, and some baby wipes."

I said, "Thanks. This is very-"

"You'll be billed for it later," she informed me.

"I thought we would."

Her nose wrinkled and her eyes narrowed. "Drummond, have you been drinking?"

Jennie dutifully came to my aid. "One… maybe two. Or three or four. All in the line of duty."

There was silence for a moment.

Eventually Phyllis said, "Whatever. In any regard, you two did a good job down in Richmond. We're quite pleased."

I wasn't sure who was included in "we," but I'd bet George Meany was not, whereas Mark Townsend, whose gilded tush we might have saved, probably was.

I mentioned to Phyllis, "Jennie made the breakthrough. You should be sure to mention that to her Director. She cracked Mrs. Barnes like a walnut… peanut… whatever."

Jennie immediately commented, "Sean's role was harder. He did the bad cop. He gave an amazing performance."

And back and forth awhile. We were both laying it on a bit thick. But finally Phyllis looked at me and commented, "I'm sure Drummond performed his part admirably. He brings certain authentic talents to the role."

I smiled. "Well, you know, old ladies are so easy."

Phyllis's lips were parting to say something when Jennie swiftly added, "Also, it was Sean who figured out Townsend could be the next target. It was brilliant deductive work. I missed the connection entirely."

Phyllis stared at me a moment, I'm sure thinking how pleased she was that she hired me. She finally said, "Both of you take a moment to pat each other on the back. Then get cleaned up and join us in the conference room."

Watching her back as she walked away Jennie whispered to me, "Don't tangle with that lady, Sean. That's professional advice, if you're interested."

"Yeah, thanks. Let's see… don't mess with her… never screw with you… watch my ass around George-hey, with teamwork like this, why do you think we haven't caught these clowns yet?"

"Have you ever considered…?"

"What?"

"These conflicts-if I'm getting too personal, let me know-but Sean, you have what we call authority issues."

"You mean this is my fault?"

"Look, I really like you…" She paused. "To be perfectly blunt, your career prospects would improve a lot if you stopped taunting your bosses."

"All right. You are getting too personal."

She apparently changed her mind about her promise, however. She said, "In a way, you're like Jason Barnes. Predestination. I'll bet your father was also very strong-willed and overbearing. Transferral. Now you're taking it out on your bosses."

"I'm not… look-"

"You need to hear this."

"I do not."

"I'm offering you an insight into your own nature because… because we're partners and… friends."

"Did it occur to you that partners and friends don't want to be psychoanalyzed?"

"Excuse me-I'm trying to be helpful." She stepped back and stared at me a moment. She asked, "Are we having a fight?"

I was too busy sulking to answer that.

She mentioned, "Because sometimes I am too nosy for my own good."

"Right. Drop the subject."

"Fine." After a moment she remarked, "We're both tired, wrung out, and irritable. We need showers, a decent meal, and sleep."

"Oh… you get less nosy and pushy when you're clean and well rested?"

"Watch it."

"Well… what do you suggest?"

"I thought, after we finish debriefing, we'd slip out for a few hours and get hotel rooms."

"I'm not sure that's-"

"There are hotels in Crystal City. Only five minutes from here. If needed, we'd be back in minutes."

I looked at Jennie. I did not get the sense there was anything more to this than was offered-a good meal, a warm shower, a little rest. But there could be more, and it was either an even better idea than it sounded or an invitation to real problems. Then I thought about Janet up in Boston, and I was sure there was a thick ream of forensics reports, intel updates, and witness statements on my desk waiting to be read. No, this just wasn't going to work. I didn't need the complications, emotional or otherwise.

I said, "Good idea."

She smiled. "Now, loosen up. The Bureau doesn't like it when you threaten our fearless leader. We'll get Barnes. Soon."

I nodded, and indeed, I hoped her confidence wasn't misplaced. But it's a truism that the best hopes don't always lead to the best outcomes. Also, something was gnawing at me, something missing I was sure was obvious, or should have been obvious. But what? I really needed a few hours of sleep. Jennie said, "Go brush your teeth. If Townsend sniffs your breath, he'll have you shot."

"I don't work for him."

"I know. Think he cares?"

Gee, I really missed the Army. There, you at least knew where you stood, and who could take you down. It's hard to mount your best defense when you don't know where the front is, and who's in your rear.

So into the building we both went, Jennie directly to the ladies' room, while I went directly into the men's room, where I dutifully brushed my teeth, and washed my face, and tried to cleanse my mind of naughty thoughts.

I'm sure I mentioned that Agent Margold was quite attractive. The thing is, the past few hours we'd been rubbing shoulders, brushing arms, all those annoying gestures two people usually do who can't wait to jump into the sack together. Unless I was misreading this, and she was just gracious and warm. And I was just horny.

The truth was we were partners and we had become friends. To move to the next level somebody has to make the next move, and somebody has to reciprocate, or not reciprocate, which gets a little sticky.

A stall door opened behind me and Director Mark Townsend walked out, began washing his hands and staring into the mirror.

I said, very nonchalantly, "Good morning, sir."

"Drummond."

I was making a retreat toward the exit, until he said, "Hold it."

Boy, good thing I brushed my teeth.

He walked to the dispenser, yanked out a paper towel, and began wiping his hands. He wore the same blue business suit and the same awful paisley tie from the day before. Remarkably, his suit still looked pressed, his white shirt appeared freshly starched, and there were no bags under his eyes, leading me to wonder if this man was born permapressed. He asked, not at all absently, "Agent Margold, you've worked with her for twenty-four hours now. What do you think of her?"

Had this question come from anybody but Townsend, I would have replied it was none of his business and to go pound sand. But she was a vassal in his kingdom, so she was his business, and though I wasn't one of his vassals, I didn't want him to make me his business. While not often enough, there are occasions when I obey my survival instincts.

I therefore answered honestly, but selectively. "I find her highly competent, professional, and effective. Margaret Barnes was a hostile witness, a practiced liar, and totally confused. A few hours ago, I watched Agent Margold cut through thirty years of lies, evasions, and camouflage so dense the witness was lost in it. It was an impressive sight."

"Is that right?"

"Yes sir."

"And do you have any views regarding her overall management of this case?"

"I thought George Meany was managing this case."

"Meany is in charge of this case. But Agent Margold seems to have uncanny instincts for where to be, and when. De facto, she appears to be managing this case."

He looked me in the eye and said, "I ask, because I'm getting conflicting reports about her. Some sources are telling me she is not competent, nor is she a team player. This Bureau operates effectively only when it functions collectively, and unfortunately, my D.C. Field Office appears to be experiencing teamwork issues. Do you understand? At this moment, on this case, I cannot afford this problem. But the source of this problem is eluding me."

It wasn't hard to guess the source of the conflicting reports. George Meany has a lot of bad habits, an aversion to frontal assaults among them.

But generally speaking, I make it a practice not to rat out my peers, or even my bosses, to the bigger bosses. They get paid the big bucks because they're supposed to possess the intuition and insight to sort the sycophantic idiots from the nondescriptly competent. That's the theory. Of course, there is another theory, called the Peter Principle.

I did not think this applied here, however, and said, "Sir, I don't believe you got where you are by listening to subordinates tell you how to think. You should rely on your own instincts and judgment."

He changed the subject, sort of, and suggested, "Also, I think you and Agent Margold are becoming attached to one another. So perhaps I shouldn't be asking you. Perhaps you've developed an emotional bias in this matter."

I must have blushed, because he immediately commented, "Nothing wrong with it, Drummond. I met my own wife on a case. She was a forensics specialist, and I was the case agent. A murder and castration case, and the wife was our chief suspect." He ended this tale, saying, not for the first time, I'm sure, "You could say we fell in love over a pair of detached testicles."

"I thought that came after you said, 'I do.'"

He laughed. "Twenty-seven years… not once have I even considered cheating on my Joan."

"I'll bet."

He glanced at his watch, and this brief moment of bonding was over. He began walking to the door, then he stopped and faced me again. He asked, "Did you know George Meany prior to this case?"

"We worked a case together once."

He nodded, but did not amplify that thought. But it was apparent that George's whispered insights had not been limited to Agent Margold. Wouldn't it be interesting to know what George had to say about yours truly? Or maybe not.