Capitol Conspiracy by William Bernhardt

Author:William Bernhardt [Bernhardt, William]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: det_political
Published: 2011-10-03T11:45:42+00:00

26

HOMELAND SECURITY

NEBRASKA AVENUE NAVAL COMPLEX

UNDERGROUND PARKING GARAGE

Agent Gatwick tried to stay in the shadows as he slowly made his way to the appointed rendezvous site. He hated this whole business. He hated meeting at night; he hated meeting in darkness. And he especially hated meeting in a parking garage. It was way too Deep Throat for his taste.

Why did they have to meet like this, anyway? The explanation he'd been given was that certain "enemy eyes" might be watching. To him, that was all the more reason not to meet in secret. Meet in their offices and close the door, for God's sake. Surely even the NSA couldn't eavesdrop in the Secret Service offices. And a meeting like that wouldn't attract any undue suspicion. This one surely would-if anyone found out about it.

He would just have to make damn sure no one found out about it.

"Psst!"

Gatwick whirled around. There, huddled behind a Land Rover, was the director of Homeland Security, Carl Lehman. A huge over six-foot-tall black man wearing-swear to God-a trench coat.

Gatwick knew the man was his boss, but he still couldn't manage to keep his mouth shut. "I'm sorry, but don't you feel just a little bit-silly?"

Lehman frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"The director of Homeland Security. Crouched in shadows."

"May I remind you what happened to the last director of Homeland Security?"

Okay, there the man had a point. "Do you have some reason to believe we're in danger?"

"Don't you get it?" Lehman slowly rose, careful to keep himself in the dark and out of view of the concealed video monitors. "I'm always in danger."

"But today-"

"I was on national television today. My face was beamed all over the globe. Every terrorist on earth knows what I look like."

Fine. Allow the man his paranoia. It seemed to boost his ego. "It wasn't a terrorist who asked to meet with you. It was me."

Lehman's eyes darted left, then right. "You can never be too careful." He paused, then added, "I think it's best we're not seen together, Tom. At least not until this amendment passes."

So that was it. "Why would us being seen together arouse suspicion?"

"You support the amendment."

"Along with virtually every other Secret Service agent."

"Yes," Lehman said slowly, "but there are...special circumstances in your case. You know it as well as I do."

A deep furrow creased Gatwick's brow. "Those special circumstances are exactly what we need to discuss. I've got Zimmer crawling all over my ass."

"Sounds unpleasant."

"He's certain he's uncovered some kind of conspiracy."

Lehman's left eyebrow rose. "Does he indeed."

"Yeah."

"What does he know?"

"Just enough to be irritating."

"What are the goals of this imagined conspiracy?"

"He has no clue. But he thinks I'm in on it. I'm not sure he doesn't think I'm in charge of it."

"How flattering for you."

"Not so much. He wants to blame me for the death of the first lady."

"Wasn't he shielding the first lady when she was killed?"

"Exactly!"

Lehman waved the air dismissively. "Guilt. He screwed up. Didn't take the bullet. So now his superego has to find a scapegoat, someone else to blame, some way to tell himself he was not at fault.

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