William Krueger - The Devil's bed

Bo turned and headed for his car. He didn’t see behind him the slight parting of the curtains in number ten. He didn’t feel at all the tiny red dot that settled on the back of his head. And he didn’t hear the whisper that escaped Nightmare’s lips as he watched Bo retreating.

“Bang!”

Diana Ishimaru’s silver Sable was parked near the guesthouse. She was waiting inside. She and Manning were quiet when Bo walked in, but he had the feeling a good deal had already been said.

“Why don’t we talk in the library?” Ishimaru suggested.

Bo went first, Manning after him, and finally Diana Ishimaru, who closed the door behind them.

“Thorsen,” Manning began, “I thought we discussed this.”

Ishimaru cut him off. “Just a moment, Agent Manning. Bo?” She looked to him for an explanation.

“Someone tried to kill Tom Jorgenson,” Bo said.

“You have proof?”

“Nothing solid, but put everything together and it adds up.”

“But you don’t have any proof,” she said.

“No.”

“Any suspects?”

“Not at the moment. There’s someone I’d like to check out a bit more.”

“A motive?”

“I probably won’t know why until I know who.”

Diana Ishimaru gave her head a faint, unhappy shake. “I just got off the phone, talking with the Washington County sheriff. He appreciates your concern, but he doesn’t share it. However, he has assured me that he’ll keep a deputy posted outside Tom Jorgenson’s room until further notice. And he has a detective assigned to the case. Bo,” she said, almost regretfully, “this is no longer your concern.”

“It should never have been,” Manning threw in.

S.A.I.C. Ishimaru cast Agent Manning a cold look, then continued addressing Bo. “I need you to focus on Wildwood.”

“Jake Russell’s been in charge during any absence I’ve felt was necessary. He’s as familiar with security here as I am.”

“But Operations is your responsibility,” she reminded him. “I know you would be the first to agree that a constant and consistent appraisal of the situation and environment is essential to effective security. I need you here, Bo. One hundred percent. The safety of the First Lady demands it.” She stopped there and waited.

Bo knew that she was speaking carefully and dramatically because Manning’s complaint was formal and much was at stake. “I’m here,” he said.

“Good. Agent Thorsen, Agent Manning, I believe we’ve concluded our business.”

Manning, who usually displayed his emotion as conspicuously as he did his underwear, was obviously upset. “That’s it?”

She glared at Manning. “Did you want me to spank him, too?”

Bo walked her to her car. The sun was low in the sky. They stood in the long shadow of the maples, and Diana Ishimaru spoke quietly. “Are you okay, Bo?”

“Yes.”

“We all care about him,” she said. “But if he were able, he’d tell you to take care of his daughter first.”

“I know.”

“And Manning is just doing his job.”

“I know that, too.”

“I figured you did. Stay in touch.” She got in her car and drove away.

Bo went into the Op Center and tried to call Detective Timmons at the Washington County Sheriff’s Department. Timmons was unavailable. Bo asked to speak to the sheriff. He explained to Doug Quinn-Gruber his concern about Max Ableman and suggested the sheriff run a check of the man on the NCIC computer and also a check of the plate on the pickup parked at the Bayport Court.

“Thanks, Bo. We’ll take it from here. But I’ll let you know what we find out.”

Bo sat down and looked over the log kept in the Op Center. Nothing indicated a need for concern. He checked the duty roster. It occurred to him that an electronic sweep of Wildwood still hadn’t been completed. His own concern about Tom Jorgenson, coupled with Manning’s objections, had kept him from seeing to it. The phone rang just as he’d begun to consider a good time for the sweep.

“Thorsen, here.”

“This is Deputy Williams at the Washington County Sheriff’s Office. The sheriff asked me to pass along some information.”

“Go ahead.”

“We didn’t come up with anything on Ableman, Maxwell Frederick. The vehicle with the plate number you gave us is registered to Luther J. Gallagher, 352 Platte Street, St. Peter, Minnesota.”

“Luther Gallagher,” Bo repeated as he wrote it out on a notepad.

“Right.”

“Deputy Williams, could I ask a favor?”

“Fire away.”

“Would you check and see whether Gallagher has a criminal record, and if there’s a photo available? And could you fax me that information?”

“I’d be happy to.”

“Thanks.”

The agents assigned to evening duty arrived. Bo briefed them all, and they relieved their day counterparts. He heated some of Sue Lynott’s famous chicken and dumplings on the stove, then went into the Op Center.

He stood with his plate in his hand, eating as he scanned a screen that held an outline of the Wildwood perimeter. Two dots moved along the perimeter lines. These were the agents Manning had requested Bo detail to patrol the orchard. Each carried a transmitter that relayed the agent’s location. If one of the dots stopped moving for too long, the Op Center would do a radio check to make sure there wasn’t an agent down.

Before he could finish his dinner, he got a call from Chris Manning.

“The First Lady would like to see both of us right now.”

Annie, the First Lady, and Chris Manning were in the kitchen of the main house. The room had a southern exposure and was full of early evening light. The windows were open, and a nice breeze came through the screens. Annie sat at the table with the First Lady. Manning stood leaning against the kitchen sink. A frosted pitcher was on the table, along with empty glasses.

“Tea, Bo?” Annie offered. She smiled, but Bo knew something else was behind her pleasant demeanor.

“Thank you, no. You wanted to see me, Mrs. Dixon?”

If earlier, Kathleen Jorgenson Dixon had appeared to be a simple country girl, she seemed anything but at the moment. She sat erect, assuming a solid, commanding aspect in the way she regarded both agents.

“I’m aware, have been aware for some time, of friction between the two of you. I’d like to know what’s going on.”

“It’s of a personal nature,” Bo said.

“If I feel that it affects my security, and I do, then it is no longer personal.”

Manning said, “I assure you, whatever history exists between Agent Thorsen and me-”

The First Lady cut him off. “Chris, I want to know what’s going on.”

Manning’s eyes flicked to Bo, and he said, “Agent Thorsen slept with the woman I was going to marry.”

“She had no intention of marrying you,” Bo said.

“We had an understanding.”

“Maybe you did. She certainly didn’t.”

“Excuse me,” the First Lady interjected. “How long ago was this?”

“Ten years,” Manning said.

“Ten years?” The First Lady gave them a withering look. “My God, nations have waged major war and reconciled in less time.”

The anger that had momentarily enlivened Manning’s face seemed to disappear, and he said, “I assure you that whatever feelings Agent Thorsen and I may have toward each other, we’re both quite able to put those aside and do our duty. Right, Bo?”

Manning had finally called him by his first name. Bo wasn’t sure what that meant, but he agreed with the sentiment. “Yes. Absolutely.”

“All right then,” the First Lady said with a nod. “The next issue. When we left the hospital this afternoon, I noticed that a sheriff’s deputy had been posted outside my father’s room. What’s that all about?”