Dan Simmons - The Fifth Heart

Brock made blustering noises but had nothing discernible to say.

“Fine, let us move on,” said Stevenson, as if some minor motion had been passed in the Senate. “Major and Superintendent Moore, please explain to us your department’s role in protecting the president.”

The major and superintendent cleared his throat. “The Metropolitan Police provide security for the president when he makes public appearances in Washington City.”

“Do your officers accompany the president to and from these public venues?” asked Stevenson.

“No, Mr. Vice-President.”

The pale, round face with its faded mustache looked around the room. “Who does travel in the city with the president?”

Silence.

“Who protects the president when he is in the Executive Mansion?” asked Stevenson.

“The White House Police,” said Major and Superintendent Moore.

“Is that a unit under your jurisdiction, Major and Superintendent Moore?”

“Not directly, Mr. Vice-President.” Moore again cleared his throat. “We train the recruits and send them to that unit, but the White House Police Force has its own autonomy.”

“Who is in charge of the White House Police Force?” asked Stevenson.

“Sergeant O’Neil, sir,” answered Major and Superintendent Moore.

“ Sergeant O’Neil?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How many police officers are under your supervision in the entire Metropolitan Police Department, Major and Superintendent Moore?”

“Two hundred, Mr. Vice-President.”

“Not counting the White House Police.”

“No, sir.”

“And how many officers are assigned to the White House Police?”

“There were three until this spring, Mr. Vice-President,” said Major and Superintendent Moore. “But the number and intensity of the death threats that President Cleveland has been receiving has caused that unit to raise its numbers to twenty-seven.”

“Working on three shifts around the clock, one presumes.”

“More or less, Mr. Vice-President.”

“So at any given time, the president has about nine rookie police officers guarding his life.”

“Yes, sir,” said Moore, who was beginning to sound aggrieved. “But that is by far the most any American president has had guarding him, with the exception of President Lincoln who sometimes had an escort of federal cavalry or infantry billeted on the White House grounds.”

“But not that night at Ford’s Theatre,” said Vice-President Stevenson.

“No, sir,” said Moore. “The soldier usually assigned to sit outside the president’s booth at the theater was not present that evening.”

“When President Cleveland goes to Chicago on May first to open the Columbian World Exposition in front of a crowd of a hundred thousand or more people, how many of your Metropolitan Police or the White House Police . . . or the army, for that matter . . . will accompany the president?” asked Stevenson.

There was silence as the men looked at one another.

Finally Major and Superintendent Moore said, “None, Mr. Vice-President. When the chief executive travels to other cities, his protection is the responsibility of the police force of that city.”

Stevenson looked at Major and Superintendent Moore for a long, strangely tense moment. Stevenson’s gaze remained as soft as his voice, but there was some electrical charge in the air. The vice-president turned his gaze toward the tall Secret Service Chief.

“Mr. Drummond,” said Stevenson, “I understand that your department has had some experience in recent months in guarding the president.”

“A small amount, sir,” said Drummond. “We have well-trained and -armed agents, as you know, and from time to time in the past few weeks, the White House Police have asked us to provide some additional protection for President Cleveland.”

“At the White House or when he leaves it?” asked the vice-president.

“When he leaves it to speak or make any public appearance, sir,” said Drummond.

“That is the role of the Metropolitan Police Department, sir ,” snapped Major and Superintendent Moore. It was obvious that this was the first the major and superintendent was hearing about the Secret Service poaching on the Police Department’s prerogatives.

Drummond nodded. “Yes, Major and Superintendent, we know. But during events such as the president’s address to the large crowds at City Park last Christmas, your department had only three uniformed officers there to guard the president. At the request of the White House Police—presumably because of specific threats received—we sent six of our armed agents in plain clothes.”

“Unnecessary,” snapped Major and Superintendent Moore.

Ignoring the Metropolitan Police Major and Superintendent, Vice-President Stevenson said, “Chief Drummond, has not the Secret Service Department of the Treasury also experimented in accompanying the president during his travels in the city?”

“Oh, yes!” cried former Major and Superintendent Brock, braying a laugh. “Six men in a carriage rumbling after the president’s coach, trying to keep up, getting lost on K Street! What a farce that was! The entire population of Washington, D.C., was amused by the folly.”

Drummond bowed his head. “Agents following the president’s carriage in a separate coach has not proved effective, Mr. Vice-President. And President Cleveland and his advisors understandably do not want agents in the presidential coach with them.”

Vice-President Stevenson folded his arms. “Chief Drummond, if Congress were to assign full-time protective duties to the Secret Service—full-time both here in Washington and wherever and whenever the president travels—how long would it be before your agency could assume those duties?”

Drummond blinked. “We would have to hire and train more agents, Mr. Vice-President. Currently we simply do not have enough for full-time protection duties for the president even here in Washington. And these agents would have to be trained . . . bodyguard duties require special skills beyond the usual police officer’s purview.”

“Nonsense,” said Moore.

Drummond turned his cold gaze onto the major and superintendent. “Are Metropolitan Police officers trained to throw themselves in front of the person they are assigned to protect?” he asked in a low, firm voice. “To take the bullet meant for that official?”

“Of course not,” barked Moore. “The very idea is absurd. Police seize the suspect or foil the aim of the would-be assassin before any shot can be fired. They’re not trained in suicide.”

“Effective executive protection agents from the Secret Service will have to be trained in exactly such tactics,” Drummond said flatly. “Stop the assassin if possible. Take the assassin’s bullet in protection of the president if necessary.”

Moore turned away to look out the window.

“How long, Mr. Drummond?” repeated the vice-president.

“By the beginning of the new year, Mr. Vice-President, for full, round-the-clock, traveling anywhere with the president, executive protection. We shall have to open new bureaus in various American cities. Train some agents in the full panoply of advance security work.”

Stevenson nodded almost sadly, as if he had expected that date. “But you can provide some ad hoc protection in the meantime? When called upon?”

“Yes, sir,” said Drummond.

“Arrange to have at least eight of your agents travel with President Cleveland to Chicago in May,” said the vice-president.

“Yes, sir.”

“If I may make a suggestion, gentlemen,” said Sherlock Holmes.

Everyone looked at the consulting detective, who was taking his ease sitting on one corner of the empty desk.