Stephen Leather - The Long shot

“He told you about the video?”

“He did. Do you have it with you?”

Howard took it out of his jacket pocket and held it out to Sanger. The Secret Service man pointed to a television console and VCR and Howard went over to it and slotted in the cassette. Sanger removed his glasses and the two men watched the video in silence. When it had finished Sanger began polishing his glasses with a white linen handkerchief. “Have you identified the snipers yet?”

“No, but we think they are military-trained. Navy SEALs, maybe.”

Sanger raised his eyebrows. “What makes you think that?”

“The types of weapons they’re using, and the distances involved.”

Sanger nodded. “Okay, I’ll run through our quarterlies for you, to see if we’ve any military snipers.”

“Quarterlies?” said Howard.

“We keep a close eye on anyone who has ever threatened the President; it’s our equivalent of your Most Wanted List, but it’s a lot longer. We’ve about five hundred names on it at the moment, and our agents visit them every three months. That’s why we call them quarterlies. We’ve a watch list too, with approaching ten thousand names on it, but they’re not visited on such a regular basis. What we do is cross-check the names on the lists with hotel registers and company payrolls in the areas where the President is due to visit. If we get a match, we interview them and if necessary remove them for the duration of the visit. We’ll check the watch list for your snipers, too, of course, but to be honest they’re generally all talk. It’s the quarterlies we worry about.”

“I doubt if the men we’re looking for would have written threatening letters,” said Howard. “They seemed too professional for that.”

“I agree,” said Sanger, “but until you give us a name or a photo to go on, there isn’t much else we can do.”

“We’re working on better pictures of the snipers,” continued Howard. “We’ve some computer experts trying to digitally enhance the video.” Howard leant forward. “There is another reason I wanted to make contact with you. We might have a way of identifying where the snipers plan to carry out their hit.” He briefly explained Andy Kim’s scheme as Sanger continued to polish his spectacles.

Sanger appeared impressed. “That’s one hell of an idea,” he said. “Our computer boys might want to take a look at his program.”

“I’m sure he’d be more than happy to show them,” said Howard. “He’s very keen to help. What he needs now is the President’s itinerary for the next few months. We already have his official functions, but we need a more detailed itinerary: every appointment, every route, even the private functions. If Andy can program them into his computer model, he can see if there are any scenarios which match the rehearsal.”

Sanger put his glasses back on and looked at Howard over the top of the lenses. “How secure is this Mr Kim?” he asked.

“He’s a mathematics PhD at Georgetown University. His wife works for us as a computer researcher. Andy Kim is okay.”

“He’d better be,” said Sanger. “We wouldn’t want the President’s itinerary getting into the wrong hands, would we?”

Howard smiled. “I’ll take the responsibility,” he said.

Sanger also smiled, but there was little warmth in it. “I’m glad to hear that, but responsibility isn’t the issue. The President’s safety is. Who else but Kim is involved?”

“His wife. And we’re seconding four or five of our programmers to work with him. The itinerary won’t leave our labs, all the work will be done there.”

“The lab is in Washington?” asked Sanger. Howard nodded. “I’ve a suggestion,” continued Sanger. “Why don’t Kim and the programmers move over to our offices in the White House? We’ve all the computing power they could need. I presume all his programs can be put on disc and brought over?”

“I suppose so,” said Howard. “That could work.”

“Good,” said Sanger. “That’s agreed, then. Anything else I can help you with?”

“I have a question,” said Howard.

“Shoot,” said Sanger. He grinned. “If you’ll forgive the pun.”

“Are you planning to beef up security?”

“Because of what happened in Arizona? The straight answer is no. Not because we don’t take the threat seriously, but because the President is already the most protected man on this planet. Every city he goes to is swept clear of potential trouble-makers before he even sets foot there, no-one gets near him without being checked by one of our agents. We have helicopters overhead, we have our men on the ground, and we have an intelligence network second to none.”

Howard listened to the Sanger lecture, but all he could think of was the attempted assassination of Ronald Reagan when he was President, shot by a boy for no other reason than to impress a Hollywood actress, despite being surrounded by the men in black sunglasses. He felt that Sanger was being too dismissive of the snipers, but knew that he still didn’t have enough information to press the panic button.

“You know how many death threats the President of the United States receives each month?” Sanger asked. Howard shook his head. “It never amounts to fewer than three figures,” said the Secret Service chief. “Some are written, some are phoned in, some actually walk into the White House and start shouting. We investigate them all, but we don’t pull the President out of the public eye each time there’s a threat. He’d never attend a public function if we did.”

“But this is different,” said Howard, “this is being planned like a military operation.”

“That’s true. But you can’t yet say when or where they’re going to strike. And from what Jake told me, you’re not even sure that the President is the target. Am I right?” Reluctantly, Howard agreed. Sanger sensed Howard’s reluctance and he leaned forward. “Only a madman would think it worth killing the President,” he said. “There is nothing to gain — the Vice-President’s policies wouldn’t differ one iota from the policies of the incumbent. This is not a JFK situation.”

“And a madman wouldn’t be able to plan an operation of this complexity; is that what you’re saying?”

“That’s it exactly. The sort of assassination attempts we’ve seen in recent years have all been the lone madman type, either attention-seekers or psychopaths. There have been no organised assassination attempts, no conspiracies. That’s the reason for my scepticism. Who would want to kill the President? The Russians are our allies now, even Castro is looking to build bridges. The Iraqis, the Iranians, all our old enemies are keen to start trading with us again. No, I believe a major hit is being planned, but I don’t think for one minute that the President is the target.” He held up his hands. “I’m not saying I won’t offer you every facility; I’d be a fool if I refused to help. But unless you give something harder, I won’t be cancelling any of his appearances.”

“That’s understood,” said Howard. He knew that the Secret Service man was right. Crying wolf wouldn’t help anyone’s long-term career prospects.

“Having said that, if your computer model does indeed match any of the Presidential venues, well, that’s a whole new ball game. Look, I’ll be in DC tonight, call my office tomorrow and we’ll arrange for Kim and your programmers to come over. The sooner we get started, the better.”

Sanger stood up and held out his hand. The two men shook. “Do you smoke?” Sanger asked. Howard said he didn’t but Sanger handed over two packets of cigarettes and a book of matches, each with a large Presidential seal on them. “Take these anyway,” he said, “souvenirs of Air Force One.”