Стюарт Вудс - Cut and Thrust

“When an active terrorist hides in the bosom of his family, he’s responsible for putting them at risk, isn’t he?” Stone asked.

“My view exactly,” Will said. “Unstopped, those men would have been responsible for hundreds of deaths in Middle Eastern and European cities, and perhaps some in this country. While I’m still in office, I’ll keep hunting them down.”

As the table was being cleared, Beam approached the president again and whispered. Will spoke up. “You know, it’s beginning to be a little chilly in this desert air, why don’t we have dessert in the house?”

Stone herded the group inside, and they settled around the big living room while waiters served them dessert. Will came and sat next to Stone.

“You know, I took that e-mail to Beam more seriously than Kate did. I’m not sure what it was, but something in that message raised the hair on the back of my neck.”

“I’ll certainly trust your instincts, Will,” Stone said. “Nothing wrong with being cautious.”

“Kate can be a little too cavalier about these things,” the president said.

The party broke up around ten, and the Lees’ group walked back to the presidential cottage.

“We’ve got to go, too, Dad,” Peter said when they had gone. “This is an early town, you know.”

“I’ve heard that,” Stone said.

Peter handed him a card. “This is the address. It’s a couple of blocks off Sunset. Come at six.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Stone said.

The kids said their good nights and left, then Stone ordered after-dinner drinks for his guests. Billy and Betsy Burnett stayed on for a drink.

“What was that about?” Dino asked. “The thing with the Secret Service?”

“They got a death threat on Kate e-mailed to them last night,” Stone said. “I expect it was something to do with that, but at least nobody had to draw a weapon.”

“What we need,” Dino said, “is a secret method for instantly determining the location that any e-mail is sent from.”

“It’s being worked on,” Mike Freeman said, “but don’t expect to read about it in the papers. The political climate isn’t good right now for new intelligence initiatives.”

“I’m happy for them to read my e-mails and track my phone calls,” Stone said. “We live in a new and dangerous world, and it’s not going to stop anytime soon.”

“I wish I could disagree with you,” Mike said.

“How did your security meeting go today?” Stone asked.

“The Democrats are going to have the most secure convention in history,” Mike replied. “And Staples Center is going to be the most wired and camera-ready venue ever. Not to mention the shoe leather on the ground.”

“Sounds good to me,” Stone said.

“We’re going to have a new shield system in operation,” Mike said. “We press a button and a two-inch-thick bulletproof glass wall will rise from the floor to a height of ten feet and protects about the central third of the stage. If you see that coming up, you’ll know there’s a very real threat.”

“Do the candidates know about that?” Stone asked.

“The Secret Service is certainly in on it — whether they’ll share it with the candidates is up to them, but it will certainly go up when the nominee and the president speak.”

“Very good.”

“Where are your convention seats?” Mike asked Stone.

“I’ve got a skybox,” Stone replied. “Remember? You helped me get it.”

“So you have,” Mike said. “From there, it will be like watching the world’s largest flat-screen TV.”

“And we can turn down the noise during the demonstrations on the floor. That’s the part of conventions that has always bored me rigid.”

“And the glass window in your box will be the same as for the platform shield,” Mike said.

“That’s very comforting,” Stone replied. “You’ll have to join us.”

“I’ll be in our control center,” Mike said, “or patrolling the floor with a handheld radio.”

“We’ll wave,” Stone said.

Later, as Billy and Betsy were leaving, Billy called Stone aside. “I have some thoughts about that e-mail sent to the Secret Service office,” he said.

“Tell me.”

“It’s an inside job.”

“Why do you think so?”

“No one on the outside would even know of the existence of that e-mail address, but if there are half a dozen insiders who know about it, then there’s a very good chance others in the office know about it, too.”

“You have a very good point, Billy.”

“I’d be willing to bet that if they can trace the e-mail back to one computer, it will turn out to be one in their offices.”

“Then I hope they trace it back soon,” Stone said, “because they’re very short of time.”

Stone woke early, before Ann, who slept on. When he came out of the shower she was up and dressing.

“I’ve got one hell of a day today,” she said. “Kate has nine appointments, and I have to be with her at every one.”

“Peter and Ben are having a housewarming tonight — I hope you’ll be able to go. It starts early, six o’clock.” He wrote down the address for her. “It’s a left turn off Sunset, the other side of I-405.”

“If we can keep to our schedule, Kate will be finished at four-thirty, but don’t count on it. I’ll call you when I’m on my way.”

“Sounds good. Listen, is Kate really not concerned about the death threat?”

“Every time something like that happens, she brushes it off,” Ann said, “but in her heart of hearts, who knows?”

“Not even her husband, apparently. He says she’s cavalier about threats.”

Ann laughed. “That’s a good description. I’m going to let the Secret Service worry about it.”

“Right, let them get between Kate and a bullet.”

“I’m like Kate, I don’t want to think about it.”

“I’ll see you tonight sometime,” Stone said, and she was gone.

Stone was having lunch by the pool when Peter called. “The governor has accepted our invitation,” he said, “but he’ll probably have to leave early. He has a lot on his plate, what with all the Democrats in town.”

“I won’t take much of his time.”

“I’ll try to see that you get a few minutes alone.”

“Thanks, Peter. I’ll see you tonight.”

Stone left the Arrington in one of their Porsche Cayenne SUVs with a driver, instead of in a Bentley, and they drove out Sunset Boulevard to Amalfi Drive and turned left. Stone told the driver to be back at eight o’clock, then he rang the buzzer at the front gate and was let in.

He walked into some of the most beautiful gardens he had ever seen. It always astonished Stone how things would grow in the desert soil as long as there was enough water, and clearly, there was enough water for this.

He walked up a path to a good-sized shingled house, and he could see another one very much like it next door. That would be Ben’s, he reckoned. He was met at the door by Billy Burnett, who seemed to be exercising his security role.

“Good evening, Stone,” Billy said, shaking his hand.

“How are you, Billy?”

“Very well, thank you. I didn’t get a chance last night to thank you personally for your role in getting me the pardon,” Billy said. “It’s already made a big difference in my life. For the first time in many years, I can own a house.”

“Where did you buy?”

“One street over from here. My property is much smaller, of course, but it backs up on Peter’s property, and he’s installed a gate for easy access.”

“I feel better knowing you’re nearby,” Stone said. “For future reference, I’ve been warned that the Russians in Paris have not forgotten about me. Yuri Majorov had a brother, Yevgeny, who seems to have taken over his position in that organization.”