Vince Flynn - Act of Treason

“I read in the preliminary report last night that Alexander and his wife arrived in the same limousine, but left in separate vehicles.”

“You have a copy of the preliminary report?” Rivera asked, her surprise obvious.

“Yes, and don’t worry. You come out of it unscathed.” Rapp wasn’t being entirely honest, but he didn’t need her getting all worked up. “Now is that right? Alexander and his wife arrived in the same car and left in separate cars?”

“Yes.”

“And in the report it says you assigned Special Agent Cash to ride with Alexander’s wife in the second limo?”

“Yes.” Rivera grew a bit tentative. “Where are you going with all of this?”

“Bear with me for a little bit longer, and I’ll tell you. The decision to put Alexander’s wife in the second limo, was that a staff decision, or was it your decision?” Rapp took a left onto Constitution Avenue, the Washington Monument looming large up ahead on the right.

“By staff I assume you mean campaign.”

“Yes. Was it you, or the campaign?”

“It was the campaign.”

Rapp’s fingers flexed on the leather steering wheel and then gripped it tight. He was homing in on the truth and he could feel it. “When were you informed of the change?”

“Probably fifteen minutes or so before we were going to leave for the vice president’s residence. Don’t hold me to that, though. Changes like this happen all the time. Even more so during a campaign.”

Rapp nodded. “I won’t. I assume if the campaign wants to make a change they need to inform you personally.”

“Usually, but I’m not always on.”

“When you’re on.”

“Usually, but not always. Sometimes they’ll grab the closest agent and have them tell me, but I made it clear that I wanted all changes to go through me directly.”

Rapp nodded as he drove. So far so good. It was how he had envisioned it. “So on the day of the attack, who informed you there was going to be a change in terms of who would be riding in which car?”

“Stu Garret.”

Rapp felt his chest tighten a bit as he began to experience a spike in adrenalin. “Stu Garret.” Rapp turned his head to the right, cracking his neck.

“Do you know him?”

“Only by reputation.”

“He’s extremely rude, to put it kindly.”

“So I’ve heard.” Rapp got in the right lane and prepared to turn onto 14th Street. “Was Agent Cash already assigned to the second limo or was that a last-minute change?”

“What is your interest in Agent Cash?”

Rapp took a right turn and sighed. “Nothing in particular. Just some inconsistencies we’ve found.”

“I don’t know if this will help, but we got in a fight that afternoon when I told him he needed to take Jillian back to her hotel.”

“So that was a last-minute change?”

“Yes.”

“And why did you decide to pick him over all the other agents?”

“I didn’t. She requested him.”

Rapp looked surprised. “You’re sure about that? Did she tell you personally, or did one of her aides tell you.”

Rivera thought about it for a moment and then said, “Actually, it was Garret who told me she’d requested him.”

Rapp took a hard left turn onto Jefferson Drive. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“And this was normal.”

“Yes. He was the campaign manager. He was always running around barking at people making last minute changes.”

“Was it normal for Jillian to request Agent Cash?”

“Actually it was. We used to tease him about it.” Rivera smiled as she remembered her friend. “Some of the agents even joked that she had a thing for him.”

Rapp laughed uncomfortably. They drove another block in silence and then Rapp pulled over in front of the National Air and Space Museum. He had to make a decision. Kennedy wouldn’t like it, but he was going to go with his instincts. He put the car in park and turned toward Rivera. “I need you to do something for me.”

Rivera was caught off guard by both his sincerity and intensity. She looked at him warily and asked, “What?”

“You know Jack Warch?”

“Of course.”

“In about an hour and a half I’m going to have the president call him. The president is going to tell Jack that he wants you to look through all of the logs the Secret Service has on Ross and Alexander going back to this past September. I especially want you to look at the two weeks prior to the attack. I want to know if they had any foreign visitors, and I want you to keep an eye out for any mention of Stu Garret.”

Rivera took off her sunglasses and studied Rapp’s rugged features. “Why did you laugh like that when I told you some of the agents used to tease Cash that Jillian had a thing for him?”

“Laugh like what?”

“Like they were probably right and they didn’t even know it.”

Rapp looked out the front window and said, “Did you really not know that they were having an affair?”

“Excuse me?” Rivera answered more than a bit shocked.

“You truly didn’t know?” Rapp asked in a disbelieving tone.

“I knew Matt Cash for a long time. He was a good father and a devoted husband. There is no way he was cheating on his family.”

“Really.” Rapp reached in his pocket and pulled out a color copy of one of the shots taken down in Palm Beach. Rapp tossed the photo onto Rivera’s lap and said, “If that’s not Agent Cash having sex with Jillian Rautbort then would you mind telling me who it is?”

Rivera stared at the photo in shock, unable to speak.

The lobby at the Willard was coming to life. It was 11:28 a.m. and no one was checking out. There were only arrivals and guests moving about to find food and shop. Garret was actually trying to get work done, and if one more person came up and congratulated him, he swore he was going to bash them over the head with his BlackBerry. Garret sat in an oversized mohair chair facing the door. He assumed the man he was meeting for lunch knew what he looked like because he hadn’t the faintest idea what the guy looked like.

Garret focused on the small screen of his BlackBerry with the aid of a pair of bifocals. His thumb spun the black wheel on the side of the device and clicked on the weather icon. The five-day forecast popped up after a few seconds. For months he’d been dreading the inauguration. Every time he thought about it he imagined himself sitting on the West Capitol steps freezing his ass off. A warm front was moving in. The afternoon’s high was supposed to be fifty-two degrees and they were forecasting a balmy fifty-eight for the big event on Saturday. Garret smiled. Fucking weather idiots, he thought to himself. They had no idea what they were doing. Only two days ago they’d been forecasting low thirties for the weekend.

Satisfied with the current forecast he spun the wheel and clicked on one of his saved Web sites. It was an online auction site that specialized in old motorcycles. Garret had a couple of bids he needed to check. One of them was going to shut down the bidding at 10:00 p.m. this evening. As he was looking at the most recent bid the BlackBerry beeped and then a number one appeared in his in-box. Suddenly, three more messages appeared. Garret opened the in-box and saw that the first message was a news alert from the Drudge Report. The other three were from other news services. Something was brewing. Garret clicked on the link and a moment later was staring at the bare bones home page of the Drudge Report. The headline across the top read, “President to Hold Noon Press Conference. CIA Director Expected to Step Down.”

Garret pumped his fist up and down and hit the speed dial button for Mark Ross.

Ross answered on the second ring. “Yes?”