Power Play
Page 75
He leaned down, kissed her mouth. “One thing in our favor, Blessed’s a lousy shot. Let’s do it.”
He looked down at his watch. “Now we need to head out to Quantico if we’re going to meet Davis there. He’s bringing his recording of Milton Holmes’s voice to play for Carlos Acosta. We can say hello to Nicholas Drummond if we have the time.”
Savich waved to Mr. MacPherson catty-cornered across the street as they walked out the door. He was sitting on the top step of his porch, his new puppy, Gladys, leaping around him and chasing a bright red ball.
They hit horrendous traffic on the way to Quantico, made worse by earsplitting construction and a few dead stops for huge dump trucks filled with gravel crawling across the road. Savich got a call from Natalie as they waited. Sherlock couldn’t make out what it was about. When he punched off, he said matter-of-factly, even as he steered the Porsche between two big SUVs, “Natalie and I are going to see the president at two o’clock this afternoon. He was informed about the attempt on her life last night and asked to see her. She said she was looking forward to it, now that there were no more questions about her honesty. She said it would be useful if I came along, in case he had any questions for the FBI.”
Sherlock punched him in the arm. “I should have guessed what it was all about, given how excited you are.”
• • •
Carlos had no idea if his caller’s distorted voice was Milton Holmes or not. Savich cheered him up by leaving him Isabel’s new cell number.
The White House
1600 Pennsylvania Avenue Saturday afternoon
Savich had visited the White House twice before, both times to see the president with Director Mueller to receive congratulations from the Head Dude himself on high-profile cases resolved. As always, security was tight, thorough, polite, and fully engaged. Marines posted near the lobby, both for security and for show, watched them respectfully but closely. The Secret Service agents, Savich knew, were clustered close to wherever the president happened to be—presently, around the Oval Office. There was activity everywhere, but noise levels were low.
For Natalie, of course, this was old hat. She greeted the various staffers they saw and several of the security people, all of whom, as far as Savich could tell, were happy to see her. And worried, he saw, since by now the whole world knew about the attempt on her life right in her own home. He and Natalie were met by Chief of Staff Eric Hainny. Natalie offered her hand, nodded, and said, “Good morning, Eric.”
After a brief pause, Hainny shook hers. “Good morning, Mrs. Black. Everyone is pleased you survived the attack last night. Ah, Agent Savich. It is a pleasure to see you again,” Hainny shook Savich’s hand.
Savich saw Hainny hadn’t changed since the last time he’d seen him a year before. He was still in desperate need of a gym, a merciless trainer, and fewer helpings at the dinner table. He looked rumpled and impatient, the quintessential guard dog, only Hainny was the alpha guard dog. He cleared his throat, looked at his watch. He said, his voice neutral, “The president is exceedingly busy, Mrs. Black. He made time for you he doesn’t have. Come with me.”
Natalie and Savich followed him past a reception room, two senior advisers’ offices, the dining room, and a study. Natalie spoke quietly to a tall, thin man who joined them, obviously one of the senior advisers. He patted her shoulder, then she double-stepped to catch up with Hainny, who never slowed. She rolled her eyes at Hainny’s stiff back. It was obvious, despite the attempt on her life, that Hainny still believed Natalie should resign and get out of the president’s hair, preferably far enough away to be forgotten by critics and citizens alike by the time elections rolled around.
Savich raised an eyebrow. Natalie said quietly, “I’m at the center of a firestorm, and Eric is very afraid he won’t be able to control the fallout. The way he sees it, I’m still a huge liability.”
Natalie let him march ahead when Mrs. Janikowski, the president’s secretary, stepped out to greet her. She hugged her and patted her cheek. “I’m so sorry about what’s happening, Mrs. Black, and so glad you’re all right. The president has expressed supreme confidence that Agent Savich and the FBI will figure all this out.” And she smiled at Savich. Now, that’s how you get to be the president’s secretary, Savich thought. He had to admit, hearing that made him feel quite nice.
Hainny cleared his throat, again looked at his watch, and Mrs. Janikowski stepped back. Hainny led them into the Oval Office as the clock struck two.
He looked down at his watch. “Now we need to head out to Quantico if we’re going to meet Davis there. He’s bringing his recording of Milton Holmes’s voice to play for Carlos Acosta. We can say hello to Nicholas Drummond if we have the time.”
Savich waved to Mr. MacPherson catty-cornered across the street as they walked out the door. He was sitting on the top step of his porch, his new puppy, Gladys, leaping around him and chasing a bright red ball.
They hit horrendous traffic on the way to Quantico, made worse by earsplitting construction and a few dead stops for huge dump trucks filled with gravel crawling across the road. Savich got a call from Natalie as they waited. Sherlock couldn’t make out what it was about. When he punched off, he said matter-of-factly, even as he steered the Porsche between two big SUVs, “Natalie and I are going to see the president at two o’clock this afternoon. He was informed about the attempt on her life last night and asked to see her. She said she was looking forward to it, now that there were no more questions about her honesty. She said it would be useful if I came along, in case he had any questions for the FBI.”
Sherlock punched him in the arm. “I should have guessed what it was all about, given how excited you are.”
• • •
Carlos had no idea if his caller’s distorted voice was Milton Holmes or not. Savich cheered him up by leaving him Isabel’s new cell number.
The White House
1600 Pennsylvania Avenue Saturday afternoon
Savich had visited the White House twice before, both times to see the president with Director Mueller to receive congratulations from the Head Dude himself on high-profile cases resolved. As always, security was tight, thorough, polite, and fully engaged. Marines posted near the lobby, both for security and for show, watched them respectfully but closely. The Secret Service agents, Savich knew, were clustered close to wherever the president happened to be—presently, around the Oval Office. There was activity everywhere, but noise levels were low.
For Natalie, of course, this was old hat. She greeted the various staffers they saw and several of the security people, all of whom, as far as Savich could tell, were happy to see her. And worried, he saw, since by now the whole world knew about the attempt on her life right in her own home. He and Natalie were met by Chief of Staff Eric Hainny. Natalie offered her hand, nodded, and said, “Good morning, Eric.”
After a brief pause, Hainny shook hers. “Good morning, Mrs. Black. Everyone is pleased you survived the attack last night. Ah, Agent Savich. It is a pleasure to see you again,” Hainny shook Savich’s hand.
Savich saw Hainny hadn’t changed since the last time he’d seen him a year before. He was still in desperate need of a gym, a merciless trainer, and fewer helpings at the dinner table. He looked rumpled and impatient, the quintessential guard dog, only Hainny was the alpha guard dog. He cleared his throat, looked at his watch. He said, his voice neutral, “The president is exceedingly busy, Mrs. Black. He made time for you he doesn’t have. Come with me.”
Natalie and Savich followed him past a reception room, two senior advisers’ offices, the dining room, and a study. Natalie spoke quietly to a tall, thin man who joined them, obviously one of the senior advisers. He patted her shoulder, then she double-stepped to catch up with Hainny, who never slowed. She rolled her eyes at Hainny’s stiff back. It was obvious, despite the attempt on her life, that Hainny still believed Natalie should resign and get out of the president’s hair, preferably far enough away to be forgotten by critics and citizens alike by the time elections rolled around.
Savich raised an eyebrow. Natalie said quietly, “I’m at the center of a firestorm, and Eric is very afraid he won’t be able to control the fallout. The way he sees it, I’m still a huge liability.”
Natalie let him march ahead when Mrs. Janikowski, the president’s secretary, stepped out to greet her. She hugged her and patted her cheek. “I’m so sorry about what’s happening, Mrs. Black, and so glad you’re all right. The president has expressed supreme confidence that Agent Savich and the FBI will figure all this out.” And she smiled at Savich. Now, that’s how you get to be the president’s secretary, Savich thought. He had to admit, hearing that made him feel quite nice.
Hainny cleared his throat, again looked at his watch, and Mrs. Janikowski stepped back. Hainny led them into the Oval Office as the clock struck two.
