A Heartbeat Away - Michael Palmer [95]
“Okay,” the agent said, when it seemed they were safely out of earshot of others, “what do you want to talk about?”
“Where is Archibald Jakes?” Ellis asked.
“The Navy chief of staff?”
“Is there another?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are we going to be difficult, Sean?”
“That depends. Are you going to keep trying to talk to me?”
“I have a Web browser on this BlackBerry,” Ellis said, waving the device in her hand at waist level so that only he could see. “Do you have any pictures of your kid I can bring up? I love children, you know. Had some myself once upon a time.”
“You are really a bitch.”
“It’s so nice how we can work together for the greater good, and still make time to share our personal lives as well.”
“You keep my son out of this,” O’Neil growled.
Ellis made a tsk-tsk sound, her expression one of mock sorrow.
“I am sorry, Sean,” she said, “but unless you cooperate, that is simply not an option. Look, here’s the deal: I need you to get me egress from this chamber, a passage that is presently denied to me.”
“And then?”
“And then take me to wherever Jakes is holed up.”
The agent considered the request.
“I want your word never to mention my son again.”
“But—”
“I said never!”
“Goodness. This is a snippy side of you I never knew existed. All right, then. You cooperate and get me to Archie Jakes, and I won’t say another word about your kid.”
O’Neil mulled over the pledge for a second time.
“Jakes is in the Senate Chamber,” he said, finally.
“I thought you said you didn’t know where he was.”
“I lied.”
“I know. It rubs off from Allaire. So, get me in there.”
“Not that simple. I don’t have the key.”
“A key? You mean to tell me the head of the Joint Chiefs of Staff is locked inside the Senate Chamber?”
“Yes. Along with the rest of Group C.”
“Tell me Sean, have you asked yourself why that might be?”
“No.”
“You’re either very trusting of your president, or dreadfully uncurious.”
“Both. My job is to guard, not question.”
“Well, if you want that job of yours to continue, I suggest you get me inside that room.”
“I can’t do that,” O’Neil said.
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Does it matter?”
“You’re a really dreadful liar, Sean. Way out of your league here. I know you have a key to the Senate. I’d bet my right arm on it. That’s how certain I am.”
“Go to hell.”
“Do you know about my recently formed special committee?”
“I do. You’re investigating Mackey’s death.”
“Mackey’s murder. That’s right. Which means I will be having a whole lot of interaction with our dear president. Which means plenty of opportunities to let my knowledge of your extracurricular activities in the Lincoln Bedroom slip out. Perhaps if he and I mend our fences enough, he’d even grant me a temporary reprieve from this lovely chamber to retrieve the photographs of you and whatever-her-name-is that I stashed away in my office safe for a rainy day. Dear Agent O’Neil. How could you not know that everything that happens in the White House is recorded one way or another?”
O’Neil grimaced and said, “I want those photographs.”
“Of course you do. But either you get me into that chamber, or Allaire and the judge preceding over your custody battle get first looks.”
Ellis watched the agent’s jaw muscles tighten.
“Come with me,” he said in a coarse whisper.
They circled in front of the rostrum and headed along the passageway leading across the Capitol. At a doorway, two agents stood guard. Both looked extremely capable. O’Neil introduced Ellis to them.
“Jill,” he said, “the president asked me to escort Speaker Ellis to the Senate.”
“Didn’t come over the radio,” the woman replied.
“Well, he asked a while ago, but I forgot until she just reminded me.”
“Lots going on,” the other agent commented. “Easy to forget. Last night they ordered the security detail off the Senate doors. Now they just do a walk-by every two hours.”
“Any idea why?” Ellis asked.
“Nope. Orders are orders, I guess. As far as I know, the only one who’s been