Executive orders - Tom Clancy [369]
Breakfast this morning was oatmeal with sliced banana and a glass of apple juice, and watching the Disney Channel on the kitchen TV while Daddy returned to his paper. Megan took her bowl and glass to the dishwasher all by herself, a very serious task which she was learning to master. The hard part was getting the bowl into the holder properly. Megan was still working on that. It was harder than doing her own shoes, which had Velcro closures. Mrs. Daggett had told him that Megan was an unusually bright child, one more thing to beam with pride about, followed by the sadness, always, of remembering his wife. Pat told himself that he could see Deborah's face in hers, but the honest part of the agent occasionally wondered how much of that was a wish and how much fact. At least she seemed to have her mother's brains. Maybe the bright expression was what he saw?
The ride in the truck was routine. The sun was up now, and the traffic still light. Megan was in her safety seat, as usual looking at the other cars with wonderment.
The arrival was routine also. There was the agent working in the 7-Eleven, of course, plus the advance team at Giant Steps. Well, nobody would ever kidnap his little girl. At the working level, rivalry between the Bureau and the Service largely disappeared, except for the occasional inside joke or two. He was glad they were there, and they didn't mind having this armed man come in. He walked Megan in, and she immediately ran off to hug Mrs. Daggett and put her blanky in her cubby in the back, and her day of learning and play began.
Hey, Pat, the agent at the door greeted him.
'Morning, Norm. Both men enjoyed an early-morning yawn.
Your schedule's as screwed up as mine, Special Agent Jeffers replied. He was one of the agents who rotated on and off the SANDBOX detail, this morning working as part of the advance team.
How's the wife?
Six more weeks, and then we have to think about shopping for a place like this. Is she as good as she seems?
Mrs. Daggett? Ask the President, O'Day joked. They've sent all their kids here.
I guess it can't be too bad, the Secret Service man agreed. What's the story on the Kealty case?
Somebody at State is lying. That's what the OPR guys think. He shrugged. Not sure which. The polygraph data was worthless. Your guys picking up on anything?
You know, it's funny. He sends his detail off a lot. He's actually said to them that he doesn't want to put them in a position where they'd have to-
Gotcha. Pat nodded. And they have to play along?
No choice. He's meeting with people, but we don't always know who, and we're not allowed to find out what he's doing against SWORDSMAN. A wry shake of the head. Don't you love it?
I like Ryan. His eyes scanned the area, looking for trouble. It was automatic, just like breathing.
We love the guy, Norm agreed. We think he's going to make it. Kealty's full of crap. Hey, I worked his detail back when he was V.P., okay? I fuckin' stood post outside the door while he was inside boffin' some cookie or other. Part of the job, he concluded sourly. The two federal agents shared a look. This was an inside story, to be repeated only within the federal law-enforcement community, and while the Secret Service was paid to protect their principals and keep all the secrets, that didn't mean they liked it.
I think you're right. So things here okay?
Russell wants three more people, but I don't think he's going to get it. Hell, we have three good agents inside, and three doing overwatch next door-he wasn't revealing anything; O'Day had figured that one out-and-
Yeah, across the street. Russell looks like he knows his stuff.
Grandpa's the best, Norm offered. Hell, he's trained half the people in the Service, and you oughta see him