to say about that at the end of the program.”
The next questions were asked, and Holly gave them thoughtful, sometimes witty, replies, exhibiting her knowledge of policy and her vivid intelligence. An hour later, they were at the end.
The director spoke up. “The president-elect has asked for a moment to say a few words on another subject,” he said.
“Thank you,” Holly replied. “During my time off, with friends in a secluded place that will remain unnamed, an attempt was made on my life. I was away from the house at the time, and as you can see, the attempt was not successful. However, in my absence, a tragedy occurred: six members of my Secret Service detail were attacked and killed by automatic weapons fire in a building near my quarters. The weapons were apparently silenced, because my friends and I heard nothing. I and my companions were removed to a safe location very quickly, and the Secret Service felt strongly that this announcement should be postponed until the situation was stable and pursuit of the perpetrators had begun. I could not disagree. Those violent people have not yet been brought to justice, but every available resource of law enforcement has been deployed, and I hope they will be arrested soon.
“These fallen agents gave their all to protect me, and I shall always be grateful to them. I mourn with their families, whose losses are incalculable and unbearable.
“Thank you for listening so that I could share this news with the nation. Goodbye for now.”
“And out,” the director said. His crew removed her earpieces and began restoring the living room to its previous order.
“Good job,” Stone said, kissing her on the forehead.
13
That evening they arrived at Teterboro. The Bacchettis’ car awaited them, as did Stone’s. He explained the armor contained in his car.
“Who did the work?” Bill Wright asked.
“Strategic Services. They have a branch that does special vehicles.”
“Have you ever put its defenses to use?”
“I had a window fired on once,” Stone replied. “It stopped the bullet and starred, but it didn’t shatter.”
“Those people do good work,” Bill said, taking the shotgun seat.
A half hour later, they were driving into Stone’s garage. “There’s room for some of your vehicles,” Stone said. “I own the house next door, too.”
“That’s convenient for us,” Bill said. “Nothing says ‘the Secret Service is here’ like a few black SUVs parked outside.”
Stone and Holly went straight up to the master suite and unpacked in their separate dressing rooms.
“It’s like coming home all over again,” Holly said, snuggling up close to Stone.
* * *
—
The following morning, Stone’s cell phone rang as they were finishing breakfast.
“Good morning, Lance,” he said. “I’m scrambled.” Lance Cabot was the director of central intelligence, for whom Stone was an advisor.
“Good morning, Stone. How was your vacation with Holly?”
“I’m sure you’ve heard all the details,” Stone said.
“What I haven’t heard or understood is why there was no attack at your backup location?”
“We believe that they had been told to go to Broad Cove Cottage but were not told the house was not on Broad Cove Road, an understandable mistake. So they didn’t get closer than about half a mile.”
“Ah, fortune smiled.”
“Just when we needed a smile most.”
“So now Holly faces assassination attempts right up to her inauguration?”
“Possibly not. The Secret Service is operating now at post-inaugural staffing levels, and the assailants may be put off by the headlines.”
“Have you seen this morning’s papers?”
“Not yet. They’re at the foot of the bed.” Stone picked up the Times and shook it from its blue plastic bag. The banner headline read:
ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT ON PRESIDENT-ELECT
A still photograph of Holly during her television appearance decorated the front page.
“Got it.”
“They had to tear up the front page to get that in this morning’s paper,” Lance said. “Usually they can’t manage more than the college football scores the next day.”
“It’s a more important story than the football scores,” Stone replied.
“Quite right. All of my people based domestically have an ear to the ground,” Lance said. “I hope that will turn up something useful.”
“I hope so, too,” Stone said.
“Give my best to Holly,” Lance said, then hung up.
“That was Lance,” Stone said. “He sends his best.”
“How sweet. Is he doing anything about this?” She was reading the front page.
“He says all of his people in the country have an ear to the ground.”
“That must be uncomfortable for them.”
“I expect so, because they will know that he means it.”
“Oh?”
“Lance would like nothing better than to one-up the Secret Service and the FBI.”
“He would