The First Lady - James Patterson Page 0,11

and violent assaults, but I don’t think any of these scenarios are going to prepare me for what’s going to happen next.

The President says, “Agent Grissom … er, Sally, we have a situation.”

“Sir,” I reply, content to let him tell me what’s going on without lots of questions.

The President looks to Parker, as if for reassurance, then takes a deep breath and says, “We need your assistance.”

“Of course,” I say, and I wait, wondering what the hell is going on.

Hoyt gives me a self-satisfied look of knowing something he shouldn’t know and says, “Impressive record you have there, Agent Grissom.”

I don’t feel like saying anything, so I don’t. I just nod.

He says, “Especially the incident four years ago involving the Iranian ambassador. Why don’t you tell the President about that event?”

Hoo-boy, I think. “I’m sorry, sir, I’m restricted in responding to your request due to its classified nature.”

Hoyt says, “I’m sure the President has the ability to waive any restrictions you might be under.”

CANAL says, “By all means, Agent Grissom. Do tell me.”

I could make a stand, but what would it gain me? “Sir, at the time I was tasked to provide diplomatic security for a very unofficial summit meeting in Maryland with the Iranian ambassador to the United Nations, the Israeli ambassador to the United States, and the secretary of state. An attempt was made on the Iranian ambassador’s life. It was successfully thwarted.”

The President says, “How come I’ve never heard about this?”

“It happened during your predecessor’s term in office,” Hoyt explains. “But Agent Grissom is downplaying her role in the event. The summit was held in the private room of an exclusive restaurant in Chevy Chase. A man pretending to be a waiter had gained access. Agent Grissom detected his presence, attempted to disarm him, a gun battle broke out, and Agent Grissom not only killed the would-be assassin but also covered the Iranian ambassador’s body with her own.”

“Is that true?” the President asks.

“True enough,” I say.

“How did you detect the waiter?”

I give a slight shrug. “This particular restaurant is so exclusive it doesn’t even have a website. But I saw the waiter’s fingernails had dirt under them. He didn’t fit.”

CANAL grins. “I bet the Iranian ambassador was one happy man.”

“Truth be told, sir,” I reply, “he did his best to push me off as quick as possible once the gunfire stopped. He didn’t want to be touched by a strange woman.”

Hoyt says, “You see, Mr. President, Agent Grissom is not only brave and resourceful, but also knows how to keep a secret. Which is why you’re here, Agent Grissom. We need your skills, and your ability to keep a secret.”

“What secret, sir?” I say to the President.

He grimaces and says, “The First Lady … appears to be missing.”

I look at them, wondering if this is some sort of elaborate hoax or joke, maybe something to mark my birthday or hiring anniversary, but there’s no humor on their faces.

I manage to speak. “Sir … she’s at a horse farm, in Campton, Virginia. With her detail.”

Parker speaks up. “We know that’s where she’s been.” He glances to the President and says, “But for the past hour, we … the President has been unable to contact her. She won’t pick up her cell phone, and her security detail … they say they can’t locate her.”

A chunk of ice seems to be working its way right up my throat. “That’s impossible. They … I should have been contacted if something like that had occurred.” I start to get up and say, “Mr. President, Mr. Hoyt, if you’ll excuse me—”

“Sally, please,” the President says, voice all dark and somber. “Sit down. Just for a moment.”

I’m still standing up. I don’t belong here. I need to run back downstairs to W-17, start contacting CANARY’s detail, find out—

Parker says, “We need to keep this quiet. For now.”

“What?”

He goes on. “This is a … delicate time. And the First Lady … she’s not well.”

I start moving away from the couch, and the President says, in a sharp tone I’ve never heard before, “Agent Grissom, sit down! Give us another minute. Please.”

I slowly sit on the couch, my back stiff, not allowing myself to lean back against the cushions. “Mr. President, with all due respect, this can’t be right. If something has happened to Mrs. Tucker, I’d be the first to know. Her detail would have put out the call … we would have instantly responded.”

Parker leans forward, his hands clasped together. “An hour ago the