Brian Haig - President's assassin

But there happened to be a TV perched on a nearby wall bracket, the evening news was on, and the shootout was the story of the hour, the day, and probably the month. I leaned back into my chair, put my feet up, and started watching, when a voice inside my head screamed, Hey idiot, you haven't slept in two days.

Then somebody was shaking my shoulder, asking, "Hey-you all right?"

I saw Agent Rita Sanchez, holding two steaming cups of coffee, bless her heart. I had not a clue how long I had slept, nor was there a way to tell. In hospitals there is no day and no night.

Rita fell into the seat beside me. She handed me a cup, and I took a long sip. She informed me, "Jennie said you might need a ride home. She's real busy right now."

"I'll bet."

"How you doing?"

I could answer that two ways-honestly or not. So I lied. "Fine. Glad it's over, glad the good guys won…"

She smiled knowingly "You got postpartem blues. All that adrenaline gets pumped into you, then it just goes, like a petered-out balloon. I see it all the time."

"You don't see it this time."

"I think I do."

"I think you don't. The knights slew the dragons, I'm glad."

"Sure you are." After a moment she added, "We're gonna need a statement. You're the only person who actually spent time with these people."

"The only one who survived."

"Same thing."

"No, it's not the same thing."

Rita detected that I was in a queer mood and decided not to press it. Changing the subject, she said, "They put up a hell of a battle at the end. The HRT guys said they fought like wildcats. The woman went down last. She ran out of the bedroom spraying her M16"

"In fact, I was wondering about that."

"About what?"

I looked Rita in the eyes. "Correct me if I'm wrong. It was my impression that the proper procedure in hostage rescue situations is to first warn the suspects they are surrounded, then offer to negotiate, and only if that fails… then assault by force."

"There are times when we do it that way."

"Why wasn't it done that way this time?"

"Tactical judgment."

"I see. Well… what made this assault so different that it was decided to deviate from procedure?"

She matter-of-factly replied, "We have a standard template for making these calls. Assessment of the criminal mindset, prior experience with the perps, an evaluation of risk regarding our hostage-all these factors are carefully weighed and considered. That last point is always preeminent. The hostage is always our priority."

I think she knew where I was going with this, and I don't think she liked it. I informed her, "I can see where an undeclared assault might be justified, but here's where I get confused. The Hostage Rescue Team managed to physically separate the hostage from the kidnappers. The Texans left me and Barnes behind and fled to the bedrooms. Yet the assault continued unabated. Why?"

After a moment, Rita said, "I make it a practice to never second-guess the decision of the team leader in contact. You should do the same. Those people saved your ass."

"And I'm not ungrateful. But you see, Rita, I was surprised when the team rushed right past me. Nobody paused to check on me, untie me, or even evacuate me. Jason Barnes was equally ignored."

She sort of shrugged. "I'm sure the team felt you were safe and the prisoner was secured. As I said, hostage safety is priority number one, followed by apprehension of the suspects."

"What were the team's orders?"

"What I stated. Secure the hostage, neutralize, then apprehend the suspects."

"Their rules of engagement?"

"Use reasonable force. But this was an extremis situation, obviously. The killers were heavily armed, and I shouldn't have to remind you of all people, they were vicious murderers. If you're implying we sent that team in to assassinate those people, you're wrong."

"Good." I examined Rita's face. "I'd really be bothered to learn the team was sent in on a mission of vengeance."

She did not reply to that point.

I continued, "Joan Townsend's death doesn't sit well with me. I'm sure it sat even less well with the men and women of the Bureau. I believe down to my soul that Hank, MaryLou, and Clyde deserved to die. But they deserved to end their lives on an electric chair after attempting to lie their way out of it, the God-given right of every American." I paused for emphasis and added, "I would not like to believe I was no better than Jason Barnes, that I was part of a vendetta."

She turned and looked at the far wall for a moment. Eventually she said, "Well, shit happens. You know what they say."

"No, Rita, what do they say?"

"Live by the sword, die by the sword."

After a moment I asked, "Is Jennie's ass hanging out?"

"Not at all. She made a procedural error, running in there that way. But she put only herself at risk. The Bureau makes allowances for these things."

This was news to me.

Rita continued, "She swore an oath to a volunteer hostage and risked her life to honor it. Actually, she's a big hero now. She saved your ass, and our bacon. The Bureau don't forget those things."

"What about shooting Jason?"

"Yeah, there'll obviously be an investigation on that. But with all the smoke and dust from the blast, Jennie said she couldn't clearly observe her target. The HRT guys already gave statements that confirm how hard it was to see. The team leader said the thermal sensors were the only things that saved them from the same mistake. She just saw his face peering at her through the smoke and confusion, and she fired."

"If you need another statement to support that, let me know."

Rita nodded. "Come on. I'll give you a ride home."

I stood up and we began walking.

She said, "I never worked with Margold before. But you know what? She's pretty good, a straight shooter." "Bad word choice." She laughed. "Right."

Like you'd expect, the case dominated the headlines for the next week. A lot of good people were dead, and a lot of important people needed to be buried with ceremonies appropriate to their fame and station in life. The city, and the entire country, had been caught in an emotional vise, and the aftershock was a huge sigh of relief, accompanied by the usual wave of prurient exposure.

So the Bureau dished out the story in dribs and drabs, a smorgasbord of the good with the bad; of course it was hard to recognize the bad after all the verbs, pronouns, and facts were adjusted and twisted a bit. It's true that knowledge is power, especially when dispensed selectively.

I tend to be cynical about these things, for some reason.

On a happier note, my name and my role in the affair were kept out of it. When you sign on with the Agency-even as a loaner-you are guaranteed complete, ironclad anonymity. This works really well if you owe a lot of people money.

As you might further expect, the White House did its part to make this thing smell less like feces and more like roses. I particularly enjoyed watching Mrs. Hooper on one of those cable news talk shows, like Fox, I think. She recounted the unremitting pressure the President was under as the murderous toll mounted, and his overwhelming sadness since several of the dead were people he knew intimately, friends and colleagues. She described in tender detail how he reached out to their families and so forth. This part was both moving and touching. Maybe this part was even true.

Then, in all sincerity, she said to the anchor, "So the President pulled me into his office. This was the morning Mrs. Townsend was murdered. I'd… well, I'd never seen the President so calm… so committed… so… presidential. He said the killers had to be stopped. The American people had to be protected, no matter how drastic the action, no matter the cost to him politically. He told me to suggest to the FBI something entirely unorthodox. He said we had to arrange a trap." And so on.