Executive orders - Tom Clancy [218]
Not even a sniff of contrary data. This one's in the bag, Tony. The two men had long been friends. Time for me to get something new and exciting.
Lucky you. How's Megan?
New day-care center, started today. Giant Steps, on Ritchie Highway.
Same one, Caruso observed. Yeah, I guess it would be.
Huh?
The Ryan kids-oh, you weren't here back then when those ULA bastards hit it.
She didn't-the owner of the place didn't say anything about well, I guess she wouldn't, would she?
Our brethren are a little tight-assed about that. I imagine the Service gave her a long brief on what she can and cannot say.
Probably an agent or two helping with the finger painting. O'Day thought for a second. There was a new clerk at the 7-Eleven across the street. He'd remembered thinking when he'd gotten his coffee that the guy was a little too clean-cut for that early in the morning. Hmph. Tomorrow he'd eyeball the guy for a weapon, as the clerk had surely done with him already, and out of professional courtesy he'd show his ID, along with a wink and a nod.
Kinda overqualified, Caruso agreed. But what the hell, can't hurt to know there's coverage where your kid is.
You bet, Tony. O'Day stood. Anyway, I think I'll go and pick her up.
Headquarters puke. Eight-hour day, the Assistant Director in Charge of the Washington Field Office grumped.
You're the one wanted to be a bigshot, Don Antonio.
It was always liberating to leave work. The air smelled fresher on the way out than on the way in. He walked out to his truck, noting that it hadn't been touched or stolen. There was an advantage to dirt and mud. He shed his suit jacket-O'Day rarely bothered with an overcoat-and slipped into his ten-year-old leather one, a Navy-type flight jacket worn just enough to be comfortable. The tie was disposed of next. Ten minutes later, he was outbound on Route 50 toward Annapolis, just ahead of the bow wave of government commuters, and listening to C&W on the radio. Traffic was especially favorable today, and just before the hourly news he pulled into the Giant Steps parking lot, this time looking for official cars. The Secret Service was fairly clever about that. Like the Bureau, its automobiles were randomly tagged, and they'd even learned not to go with the obvious cheap-body, neutral-paint motif that fingered so many unmarked cop cars. He spotted two even so, and confirmed his suspicions by parking next to one and looking down inside to see the radio. That done, he wondered about his own disguise, and decided to see how good they were, then realized that if they were halfway competent, they'd already checked out his ID through the documents he'd handed over to Mrs. Daggett that very morning, or more likely even before. There was a considerable professional rivalry between the FBI and the USSS. In fact, the former had been started with a handful of Secret Service agents. But the FBI had also grown much larger, and along the way accumulated far more corporate experience in criminal investigation. Which was not to say the Service wasn't damned good, though as Tony Caruso had truthfully observed, very tight-assed. Well, they were probably the world's foremost baby-sitters.
He walked across the parking lot with his jacket zipped up, and spotted a big guy just inside the door. Would he stay covert? O'Day walked right past him, just another father in to pick up his munchkin. Inside, it was just a matter of checking out the clothes and the earpieces. Yep, two female agents wearing long smocks, and under them would be Sig-Sauer 9mm automatics.
Daddy! Megan hooted, leaping to her feet. Next to her was another child of similar age and looks. The inspector headed over, bending down to look at the day's crayoning.
Excuse me. And he felt light hand pressure through the jacket, on his service automatic.
You know who I am, he said without turning.
Oh! I do now. And then O'Day recognized the voice. He turned to see Andrea Price.
Demoted? He stood to look