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built and handsome. To Alex’s practiced eye the man’s clothes were very expensive. He was probably one of those high-priced corporate attorneys or lobbyists who plied their trade on K Street. Every time Kate laughed it was like a meat cleaver directly in the Secret Service agent’s skull.
    He finished his drink and was about to leave when he heard his name. He turned and saw Kate motioning to him. He reluctantly walked over.
    “Alex, this is Tom Hemingway. Tom, Alex Ford,” she said.
    When they shook hands, there was such strength in Hemingway’s grip that Alex, who was pretty strong, felt a pain shoot up his arm. He stared down at the man’s hand, amazed at the thickness of the fingers and the knuckles that looked like wedges of steel. Hemingway had the most powerful set of hands the Secret Service agent had ever seen.
    “Secret Service,” Hemingway said, glancing at Alex’s red lapel pin.
    “You?” Alex asked.
    “I’m with one of those places where I’d have to kill you if I told you,” Hemingway replied with a knowing smile.
    Alex could barely conceal his contempt. “I’ve got buddies at the CIA, DIA, NRO and the NSA. Which one are you?”
    “I’m not talking anything that obvious, Alex,” Hemingway answered with a chuckle.
    Alex glanced at Kate. “Since when is DOJ mixed up with funny guys like him?”
    Hemingway said, “Actually, we’re working on something together. My agency and DOJ. Kate’s the lead counsel. I’m the liaison.”
    “I’m sure you couldn’t ask for a better partner than Kate.” Alex put his empty glass down. “Well, I better get going.”
    “I’m sure I’ll see you in here soon,” Kate said quickly.
    Alex didn’t answer her. He turned to Hemingway. “Hang in there, Tom. And don’t let it slip where you do your Uncle Sam time. I wouldn’t want you to get busted for having to kill some poor bastard who asked too many questions.” He strode off. With the eyes in the back of his head that all Secret Service agents seemed to possess, Alex felt the man’s gaze burning into him. What he didn’t sense was Kate’s worried look following him out.
    Okay, Alex thought as the crisp night air hit him, that was a real crappy end to what up until then was just your average shitty day. He decided to go for a stroll and let his Beefeater with a trio of fat olives pickle his soul. Now he wished he’d had a second.

CHAPTER
6
    T HE PRESIDENTIAL MOTORCADE was returning to the White House after the fund-raising event, passing swiftly through empty streets and closed intersections. Thanks to the meticulous work of the Secret Service advance team, U.S. presidents never spent one idle moment in traffic. That perk alone would be sufficient motivation for some frustrated D.C. commuters to vie for the job. On the drive over, Gray had given his boss an end-of-the-day briefing on all pertinent intelligence matters. Now, in the backseat of the Beast, Brennan was intently studying some poll results while Gray stared straight ahead, his mind, as always, juggling a dozen things at once.
    Finally, Gray glanced at his boss. “With all due respect, sir, going over the polls every five minutes won’t change the result. As a presidential candidate Senator Dyson is not in your league. You will win this election by a landslide.” Gray added diplomatically, “Thus, you have the luxury of focusing on other concerns of critical importance.”
    Brennan chuckled and put the poll results away. “Carter, you’re a brilliant man but clearly no politician. A race isn’t in the bag until the last vote has been counted. But I’m certainly aware that my considerable lead in this race is due in part to you.”
    “I truly appreciated your support during my very rough beginning.”
    Actually, Brennan had considered dumping Gray on multiple occasions during that “rough” period, a fact Gray knew well. However, while Gray had never been an ass-kisser, if one were inclined to smooch someone’s buttocks