Vince Flynn - Act of Treason

The Secret Service had arranged to get Ross off the plane first and expedite him through customs. They’d also arranged to have his skis and bag picked up and delivered to his house. Ross walked through the terminal with a real sense of purpose and optimism. He’d miraculously banished from his mind all thought of Cy Green and the debt he owed him. His detail of agents were spread out around him, three in front, one on each side, and two more behind. The formation looked like a kickoff, which in turn reminded Ross that his New England Patriots had a playoff game this afternoon. Ross was born and raised outside Wilmington, Delaware, and had cheered for the Colts growing up. After graduating from Princeton, he worked at the CIA for a few years before getting a law degree from Yale and then moving on to Wall Street where he’d made his fortune. By thirty-five he and his wife had moved to the ultra-rich enclave of Greenwich, Connecticut, where they raised a boy and a girl, and where Ross eventually decided to jump on the Patriots’ bandwagon.

Ross’s son was out in Seattle trying to find himself. This bothered the politician more than he cared to admit, but he was too busy to obsess over the fact that his twenty-five-year-old son had gone to the nation’s best schools and still couldn’t figure out what the hell he wanted to do with his life. His daughter was a new mother and living in New York City. They were for the most part good kids. They burned through money at an alarming rate, but at least they stayed out of trouble. Their mother had done a relatively good job. Ross hadn’t been around all that much. He was too busy making money and having fun. And it had all paid off. He was now only six days and one heartbeat away from the most powerful job in the world.

Just on the other side of the security checkpoint Ross saw his chief of staff, Jonathan Gordon, waiting for him. Ross smiled and gave him a little wave. Gordon was a good man. Very loyal. The Secret Service agents all knew Gordon and made just enough room for him to enter the inner protective circle. The scrum kept moving toward the exit without missing a stride.

“Jonathan, nice of you to come all the way out here on your day off.”

“In this business there are no days off.”

“Not even the Sabbath?” Ross was joking, knowing full well Gordon’s agnostic views.

“Especially not the Sabbath.” The group passed through the large sliding doors and out into the cold January day. “I assume you haven’t bothered to turn your phone on?”

“No.” Ross smiled and patted the left breast pocket of his jacket. “I forgot all about the damn thing.”

“Well, I’ve left you a few messages, and I’m sure I’m not the only one.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. It’s just a bit of breaking news.”

They were midway between the door and the waiting limousine when a car came flying around the corner to their left; tires squealing and engine revving. Ross and Gordon looked toward the noise and slowed their step.

Agent Brown, who had stayed consistently one step behind Ross from the Jetway to the curb, placed his large hand in the middle of Ross’s back and grabbed a handful of fabric. He did not slow for a second. He picked up his pace, driving Ross forward, leaving Gordon behind. The scrum picked up speed, coats were thrown open, hands reached for guns, some eyes turned toward the possible threat, others turned away to make sure it wasn’t a diversion of some sort, and then it was over before it began.

The car, a black Lincoln Town Car, skidded to a halt at the end of the motorcade and the rear passenger door flew open. Agent Brown was one step away from tossing his protectee headfirst into the back of the limo, when he saw Stu Garret emerge from the back of the Town Car. Brown released Ross and straightened out his jacket before turning to find the agent who was in charge of the ground detail. The access to the upper ramp was supposed to be shut down until they had Ross out the door, buttoned up, and on his way.

Garret marched along the sidewalk, moving agents out of his way like a bowling ball through pins. He had on a puffy down jacket with a floppy fur-lined hood.

“Mark,” Garret yelled.

Even Ross was a bit miffed. The speeding car and the way the agents had reacted had caused his heart to race. “Yes, Stu?”

“I need to talk to you.”

It was classic Garret. No greetings. No niceties. No small talk, formality, or informality. The campaign manager, and head of the transition team, was forever in a rush.

“Great to see you too,” Ross quipped. “Did you get a new jacket?”

“I’m fucking freezing my ass off. If there wasn’t so much to do I’d get on a plane right now and fly back to California.”

Ross looked at the sky. It was a gray overcast afternoon with little wind. The temperature was probably somewhere in the high thirties. Not really that bad.

“You need to toughen up.”

Garret entered the inner circle and growled, “You need to pull your head out of your ass and turn on your damn cell phone.”

The smile on Ross’s face disappeared. “Excuse me?”

“Get in the limo.” Garret grabbed Ross by the elbow and pointed at the open door. “Let’s go.”

Jonathan Gordon tried to follow, but Garret put out a hand and said, “Ride in one of the other cars. I need him alone.”

Gordon was eye to eye with Garret. He had grown to detest this foul little man. Gordon had been with Ross since the beginning of his political career. It had been his job to temper Ross’s narcissistic tendencies without crushing his fragile ego. He had been fiercely loyal, even during the campaign when Garret had been brought in to shake things up.

“Jonathan,” Ross called out from inside the limo. “It’s all right. We’ll talk when we get to the house.”

Garret climbed in closing the door behind him. He sat in the seat opposite Ross and craned his neck around to make sure the privacy screen was up. It was. Garret spun back around, threw open his coat, and rattled off a series of expletives.

Ross kicked out his feet and said, “I see the holidays haven’t improved your mood.”

“Holidays…that’s a good one. Almost as good as you flying commercial.”

The limo started moving. Ross looked out the window and said, “Considering the fact that I was at an environmental conference, I think it was a rather good idea.”

“How was the conference?”

“It was nice. The skiing was great. The foot soldiers really appreciated me showing up.”

Garret leaned forward placing his hands on his knees. “He was right. You’re drunk on power.”

“What are you talking about?” Ross asked with a frown.

“Do you think I give a shit about the skiing, or how impressed the tree huggers were that you showed up?” Garret shook his head in disbelief. “I’m not kidding…you need to pull your head out of your ass.”

Ross’s face flushed with anger. “Stu, you need to watch your mouth.”

“My mouth is the least of your problems. Fuck.” He sat back and frowned. “I was on the phone with our friend for nearly thirty minutes this morning.”

“Who?”

“Our friend.” Garret tilted his head and looked at Ross to see if he was putting two and two together. “The one you had wine with last night.”

“Oh…that friend.”

“Yeah…that friend. He’s pissed. He says you’re delusional. You’ve somehow managed to rationalize this whole thing and wash your hands of it.”

“I’ve done no such thing.”

“He sounded pretty convinced.”

“He’s not exactly the most stable person I’ve ever met.”

“Do you have any idea how fucking serious he is?”

“There’s only so much I can do.”