Nelson Demille - The Lion's Game

I smiled, too, but the story had a serious point.

Gene said, "So, can we guarantee one hundred percent security? Obviously not. Not then, not now. But at least we can limit the movements of Rawhide and Rainbow-that's Mrs. Reagan. Rainbow?

Kate said, "In other words, they'll stay inside the ranch house until you can get them out."

"That's right. Brimstone-that's the ranch house-has thick adobe walls, the drapes and blinds are shut, and there are three agents in the house and two right outside. Tomorrow, we'll figure out a way to get the Reagans out of here. Probably we'll need a Stagecoach-that's an armored limo. Plus a Tracker and a Tracer. That's a lead and trail vehicle. Can't use a Holly-that's a helicopter," He motioned toward the surrounding rims of rising terrain and said, "A good sniper with a scope could take out a helicopter with no problem."

I said to Gene, "Sounds like you guys need a Hail Mary."

He laughed, then replied, "Just need a little night prayer. At sunrise, we're getting some reinforcements, including choppers with counter-sniper teams equipped with body-heat sensors and other detection devices. If this Khalil is in the area, we stand a good chance of finding him."

Kate said, "I hope so. He's killed enough people."

"But understand that our primary mission and concern is protecting Mr. and Mrs. Reagan, and moving them to a safe location."

I replied, "I understand. Most locations will be safe if you kill or apprehend Asad Khalil."

"First things first. We're in a static mode until the sun rises, and this fog burns off. You want to bunk down?"

"No," I replied. "I want to put on a pair of jeans and a cowboy hat, and ride out on a horse and see if I can draw this bastard's fire."

"Are you serious?"

"Actually, no. But I am thinking about taking a look around. I mean, do you have to go check the guard posts or anything?"

"I can do that by radio."

I said, "Nothing like the real thing. The troops appreciate seeing the boss."

"Sure. Why not? You want to take a ride?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

Kate, of course, said, "I'll come with you."

I had no intention of being protective, so I said, "If it's okay with Gene, it's okay with me."

Gene said, "Sure. Are you two wearing vests?"

I said, "Mine's in the laundry. You have some extras?"

"No. And you can't borrow mine."

Well, who needs bulletproof vests anyway?

We left the Secret Service building and went outside where an open Jeep Wrangler sat. I noticed that the Jeep had the new California license plates that said RONALD REAGAN LIBRARY, with a photo of the Gipper on the plate. I need one of those for a souvenir.

Gene climbed behind the wheel, and Kate sat beside him. I got into the back. Gene started it up, turned on the yellow fog lights, and off we went.

Gene said, "I know this ranch like the back of my hand. There are probably a hundred miles of horse trails, and the President used to ride all of them. We still have stone markers at strategic locations, with numbers actually drilled into them so that no one could mess around and change them. The Secret Service detail would ride with the President and radio in to the control center at each marker, and we'd plot the location." He added, "Rawhide wouldn't wear a vest, and it was a nightmare. I held my breath every afternoon until he got back."

Gene sounded like he had some real affection for Rawhide, so to be a good guest, I said, "I was once on an NYPD presidential protection detail back in April eighty-two, when he spoke at the Sixty-ninth Regiment Armory in Manhattan."

"I remember that. I was there."

"How about that. Small world."

We drove off into the boondocks, along horse trails obscured by fog and choked with brush. With the yellow fog lights on, the visibility wasn't too bad. I could hear night birds singing in the trees.

Gene said to me, "There's an M-14 rifle in that gun case. Why don't you pull it out?"

"Great idea."

I saw the gun case now, leaning against the driver's seat. I opened the case and pulled out a heavy M-14 rifle with a scope.

Gene asked me, "You know how to use a starlight scope?"

"Hey, starlight scope is my middle name." I couldn't find the On switch, however, and Gene talked me through it.

In a minute or so, I was sighting down this really nifty night scope that made everything look green. There were a few breaks in the ground fog, and I was amazed at how this high-tech toy illuminated and magnified everything. I adjusted the focus and scanned three hundred sixty degrees while kneeling on the back-seat. Everything looked eerie, especially the green-tinted fog and these weird Martian-like rock formations. It occurred to me that if I could see the surrounding terrain, then Asad Khalil could certainly see a Jeep with fog lights moving around.

We rode around awhile, and I mentioned to Mr. Barlet, "I don't see any of your people out here, Gene."

He didn't reply.

Kate said, "This must be beautiful in the sun."

Gene replied, "It's God's country. We're about twenty-five hundred feet above sea level, and from parts of the ranch, you can look down and see the Pacific Ocean on one side and the Santa Inez Valley on the other."

Anyway, we rolled along, and to be honest, I didn't know what the hell I was doing there. If Asad Khalil was out there, and he had the same night scope I did, he could put a bullet between my eyes at two hundred yards. And if he also had a silencer on his rifle-and I was sure he did-I'd fall silently out of the Jeep while Gene and Kate went on chattering. It occurred to me that there was no upside to this ride, and it was a long trip back to the ranch house.

The bush suddenly ended, and the trail opened up onto a stretch of open, rocky ground. I could see we were approaching a precipice, and I was going to mention this, but Gene, who knew the terrain like the back of his hand, stopped. He said, "We're facing west and if it was a clear day, you could see the ocean."

I looked, but all I could see was fog, fog, fog. I couldn't believe I had actually come up that way from the coast.

Gene turned toward the left and drove too close to the edge of eternity for my comfort. Horses at least know not to walk off cliffs, but Jeep Wranglers don't.

After a few long minutes, the Jeep stopped, and a man appeared out of the fog. The guy was wearing black, had black stuff on his face, and was carrying a rifle with a scope. Gene said, "That's Hercules One-that means a counter-sniper response person."

Hercules One and Gene exchanged greetings, and the guy, whose real name was Burt, was introduced to us. Gene said to Burt, "Mr. Corey is trying to draw sniper fire."

Hercules said, "Good. That's what I'm waiting for."

I thought I should clarify this and said, "Actually, I'm not. I'm just getting the lay of the land."

Burt, who looked like Darth Vader all in black, checked me out, but said nothing.

I felt a little out of place in my suit and tie out here in God's country among real men. Guys with code names.

Gene and Burt chatted a minute, then off we went.

I commented, "The posts seem spaced a little far apart, Gene."

Again, Gene didn't reply. His radio crackled, and he put it to his ear. He listened, but I couldn't hear what the caller was saying. Finally, Gene said, "Okay. I'll take them there."

Take who where?

Gene said to us, "Someone wants to meet you."

"Who?"

"Don't know."

"Don't you even have a code name for him?"

"Nope. Got one for you though-Nuts."

Kate laughed.

I said, "I don't want to meet anyone without a code name."

"I don't think you have a lot of choice in the matter, John. It was a high-level call."

"From whom?"

"I don't know."

Kate glanced back at me, and we sort of shrugged.