Then another Yukon with flashing lights pulled into what had been the taxi lane, followed by two limousines, which also had flashing red and blue lights behind their grilles.
What had been the taxi lane was now filled.
Next came another limousine, this one a stretch limousine without flashing lights. It pulled into the space reserved for vehicles discharging or picking up passengers.
A burly man spoke into his lapel, and then opened the rear door of the limousine. A moment later, a line of men came through the revolving door and quickly entered the limousine.
“There’s ten of them,” Delores announced. “I counted them.”
“I wonder who they are,” Bob mused aloud.
The burly man closed the door and the stretch limousine pulled away from the curb.
What happened next occurred so quickly that no one but Delores could keep up with it. Limousines and Yukons kept pulling up to the curb, and then backing out of it-or going forward onto Connecticut Avenue and then backing up as passengers-some of them women and some of them carrying submachine guns-got into the various vehicles, and then sometimes out of them.
“You know what that looks like, Herb?” Bob said. “That automated package-distribution machine FedEx showed us in Kansas City. Except this is for people.”
“You know, Bob, it does,” Herb said thoughtfully.
He then gestured with his hands, miming FedEx’s automated system, which had apparently impressed him with its ability to move a lot of things in different directions at the same time.
The Vice President came through one of the revolving doors and was hustled into one of the limousines with the flashing lights, and then the secretary of State came through the revolving door and was hustled into hers.
There was a wail of sirens and then it was suddenly all over. All the vehicles were gone, and so were all the Secret Service people.
“I will be damned,” Herb said. “That was something!”
“And you didn’t want to stay here,” Delores said. “You said it was too expensive.”
THREE
The President’s Study The White House 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, N.W. Washington, D.C. 1430 15 April 2007
“When the Vice President’s car reached where we were standing, Mr. President, just outside the main gate,” Secret Service Special Agent Mark Douglas reported, “it stopped and the rear window went down. Vice President Montvale said, ‘The four limousines are with me.’ So I let them pass.”
“Did you see who was in them?” President Clendennen asked.
“Yes, Mr. President. To double-check, so to speak, I stopped each one and opened the door and had a look.”
“And?” the President asked impatiently.
“There were eight men, mostly Caucasian-mostly Latinos, I judged-and some Afro-Americans, in each of the first two limousines. The third one had Mr. Danton-the reporter from The Washington Times-Post-and Mr. Parker in it. Just them. The last limo was empty.”
“And then what happened?”
“The convoy moved directly to the grave site, to the road near it. And everybody got out.”
“And?”
“The Vice President and the secretary of State got out and walked to where you and the other dignitaries were standing-where you were waiting for the whatchamacallit, the caisson with the casket, to come down the road.”
“And the people in the limousines?”
“Mr. Danton followed the Vice President and Secretary Cohen.”
“And Mr. Parker?” the President asked softly.
“I didn’t see him there anymore. I guess he didn’t get out of the limousine. I did see him later-”
“Get to later, later,” the President interrupted him. “What about the people in the limousines?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. President. Well, they got out of the limos and arranged themselves in a line where they could watch what was going to happen at the grave. While they were doing that, a woman with a couple of kids walked up to them. They all knew her, and gathered around her.”
“And did you learn who this woman was?”
“Yes, sir. When I told Supervisory Agent Mulligan about the limousines, he told me to find out who they were, I went there, and asked, and they said they were. .”
He interrupted himself to consult a notebook.
“. . from the American Legion. From China Post Number One of the American Legion. The guy who told me that showed me his American Legion card.”
“And did you have a chance to. . overhear. . any of their conversations?”
“No, sir. I mean, I stuck around to do that, but they weren’t speaking English. Chinese, probably, I guess. But they called the woman ‘Mrs. Ferris’ and I put that together. She’s the wife of the officer who was kidnapped in Mexico when the guy they buried got shot.”
“They all spoke Chinese?”
“I’m not sure if it was Chinese, Mr. President. But it certainly wasn’t English. A couple of them started speaking Spanish. . Supervisory Agent Mulligan’s orders to me were to stick around, find out where they went. . but one of them-a guy they called ‘Colonel’-pointed to me and they stopped speaking that and went back to Chinese or whatever it was.”
“And when the interment was over, what happened?”
“As soon as you gave Mrs. Salazar the flag, they got in the limousines and left. Mrs. Ferris and the kids went with them.”
“They didn’t stay for my remarks?”
“No, sir. They got in the limousines and left. Like Supervisory Agent Mulligan told me to do, I got in one of our Yukons and followed them.”
“Where did they go?”
“To the Mayflower Hotel, sir. That was where I saw Mr. Parker again. He and Mr. Danton were with them.”
“And did you follow them into the hotel?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. President. They went to the tenth floor. After a while-I didn’t want them to know I was following them-I went up there. They were in room-I guess suite-1002. When a couple of waiters started rolling in carts of food, I got a look in. It was them, all right.”
“Did you manage to learn who was registered in suite 1002?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. President, I got that from the waiters.”
Special Agent Douglas consulted his notebook again.
“Suite 1002 is registered to a German guy. His name is Karl von und zu Gossinger. The waiters told me he lives there. I mean, he keeps the suite all the time.”
“Anything else?”
“Like Supervisory Agent Mulligan told me to, I got him on the radio, and he said to come here. That you wanted to talk to me.”
“And I did indeed. You did very well, Agent. . what did you say your name was?”
“Douglas, Mr. President. Special Agent Mark Douglas.”
“Special Agent Douglas, would you wait outside for a moment? I may have a few more questions.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. President.”
Supervisory Special Agent Mulligan followed Douglas to the door and closed it after Douglas had gone through it.
“Special Agent Douglas is not a nuclear physicist, is he?” the President said. “How the hell did he get in the Secret Service?”
“He was a New Jersey state trooper, Mr. President,” Mulligan said. “He’s not too swift, I admit. But he’s reliable.”
“I was thinking he might be useful, now that we know what I suspected was going on is going on. And they don’t seem to care that I know, do they? Montvale himself, that sonofabitch, and Cohen-I’m a gentleman and I won’t say out loud what I think of her-actually took those Special Forces people to Arlington.”
He paused and shook his head as if in disbelief, and then went on: “Where they walked out before I made my remarks. An insult, and they damn well knew it. Goddamn! And they had Colonel Castillo with them. That was him, right?”
“Yes, sir, that was Castillo. And Colonel Torine was there, too.”
“Mulligan,” Clemens McCarthy asked, “who is this German man? What’s his involvement in this?”