Will hadn’t expected this so early in the debate. Now he was going to have to spend at least part of his opening statement defending himself, putting him at an immediate disadvantage.
Dave Waters, who had been sitting next to Zeke in the balcony, was worried, and he felt he had to do something. He got up and began looking up and down the aisles, but he didn’t see what he was looking for, so he walked down the stairs to the lobby, where he spotted a man with a small medallion in his lapel. “Excuse me,” he said to the man, “are you Secret Service?”
“Yes,” the man replied, “what can I do for you, sir?”
“I need to speak to the agent in charge, and right away.”
“What about, sir?”
Waters produced a military ID card. “I’m General David Waters, and I want to speak to him right now.”
“Yes, sir,” the agent said. He raised his cupped left hand to his lips and spoke briefly into it, then seemed to listen. “He’ll be here in just a minute, sir.”
“Ten years ago I was called into a judge’s office in Greenville, Georgia, the seat of my home county, and asked to defend a young man accused of murder. I was reluctant to do so, but the judge pressed me, and I agreed. At my first meeting with the defendant, he told me that he was innocent of the charges and that he had never had any problems with the law. I defended him — well, I think — then, near the end of the trial, a witness blurted out that the defendant had once been accused of rape. This shocked the courtroom, the prosecution took full advantage of the situation, and the defendant was convicted as charged. Had he not lied to me, he would probably have been acquitted. During the trial, I received a cash fee from an anonymous supporter of the defendant. Later, I learned that the money had come from a right-wing militia group, the kind which has so often supported Representative Efton in his campaigns, so I donated the fee to an organization of African-American lawyers. The defendant later claimed, in his appeals, that he received an incompetent defense, a claim that was thrown out by every state and federal court that heard it, including the Supreme Court of the United States. I think that is all the vindication I need, even if it isn’t enough for Mr. Efton.”
A middle-aged man in a dark suit approached Dave Waters. “General Waters? I’m Charles West, the agent in charge of the Secret Service detail here. What can I do for you?”
“Agent West, just before the debate began I sat down next to an army officer, a Colonel Waldron, in the balcony. I introduced myself and, noticing his ribbons and insignia, I asked him what outfit he had been with in Vietnam. He said his name was Henry Waldron, and that he had been with my outfit. I said that I had heard the unit had been at Da Nang, and he confirmed this. My outfit was never at Da Nang, and the officer I knew as Henry Waldron was not the man sitting next to me. I believe he is impersonating an army officer, and considering the circumstances, I thought you should know about it.”
“Thank you, General,” the agent said. He brought a fist to his lips. “Attention all agents,” he said. “Suspicious person in the theater, dressed as an army colonel. Locate immediately and detain.” He turned back to Waters. “Thank you, General,” he said. “I’d appreciate it if you’d remain here to identify the man when we find him.”
“He got up and left his seat in the balcony about five minutes ago,” Waters said, “but I didn’t see where he went.”
Will finished his statement, compressing his opening remarks in order to stay under the time limit. As he finished, he saw a small flash of light somewhere high up at the rear of the theater.
63
Zeke quickly assembled the rifle, then, judging the distance between the projection booth and the stage, adjusted the sight. The projectionist’s window was hinged in the middle; he opened it, rested the tip of the rifle’s barrel on the sill, and brought the stock to his shoulder.
Agent West stood in the open doorway between the lobby of the theater and the orchestra seats, only a few seconds after broadcasting the first warning to his agents. “Chief, this is Robbins,” a voice said through his earpiece. “Five minutes ago, I allowed an army colonel to use the men’s room at the top of the theater. I’m on my way there now.”
“Roger,” West replied, then something occurred to him. “Is that the one opposite the projection booth?”
“Affirmative,” Robbins replied.
West brought the microphone concealed in his left palm to his lips. “Maximum alert! Maximum alert! All agents on the upper level converge on the men’s room and projection booth at the top rear of the theater! Consider suspect an assassin, armed and dangerous!” He began running for the stairs.
Zeke brought the crosshairs to bear on the head of Will Lee. As he focused the telescopic sight, a movement at stage right caught his attention, and he swung the rifle toward it. To his astonishment, Howard Efton was lying on the floor behind his lectern, and a man was lying on top of him. He swung the rifle back toward Lee, and as he did, a man appeared from the wings and began reaching for the senator.
Zeke fired without resighting, and there was an explosion at the lectern. Then Zeke heard the sound of running feet on the upper level of the theater. He dropped the rifle, kicked the chair away from the doorknob, ran into the hallway outside, and started up the ladder, throwing open the trapdoor to the roof. As he turned to slam it behind him he saw a man with a gun running up the stairs toward the projection room.
Zeke sprinted across the roof, surprised that a Secret Service agent was not waiting for him. Probably any agents on the roof had been called inside the theater when the debate began, he reckoned. He reached the parapet and ran along it, looking for a fire escape or a drainpipe. Nothing. He jumped to the roof next door and, staying low, continued along the row of buildings. Glancing back, he saw lights playing around the roof of the theater.
On the third roof he found a drainpipe, and it took only seconds to slide down it into the alley below. He ran down the alley toward the street, shucking off the latex surgical gloves he had been wearing, and as he turned the corner, he stopped running and started walking, taking deep breaths, calming himself, trying to look like an ordinary citizen. He turned toward where he had parked the Toyota and realized that would take him directly past the entrance to Ford’s Theatre. What the hell, he thought, they wouldn’t expect him to be there.
He blended in with the other pedestrians headed in that direction, and as he approached the theater, the front doors burst open and armed men ran onto the sidewalk, looking in every direction. They were looking for an army colonel, he reminded himself, and he had left the uniform in the air-conditioning duct where he had stored the rifle. He stopped with the other pedestrians and stared at the commotion. Then the man who had sat next to him in the balcony came out of the theater with a Secret Service agent. Zeke walked to the curb, waited for traffic to ease, and, walking as casually as he could, crossed the street. It was another block to the car, and it was going to be a very long block.