Washington D.C.
Hart Senate Building
“Mr Chairman?”
The Senior Senator for Montana and current Chairman of the Senate Appropriations Committee for Defense turned in the corridor and was met by the sight of an exceedingly attractive young woman dressed from head to toe in Armani. He knew it was Armani because his wife refused to wear anything else. The tall and athletic blonde was drawing more than a few admiring glances from the Senator’s aides.
“Yes, Miss?”
“Special Agent Clark, Amy Clark.”
“How can I help, Agent Clark?”
Special Agent Clark took the Chairman by the elbow and led him conspiratorially away from his three aides. Looking around to check no one was listening, she turned back to the Chairman. As she did so, the Chairman noticed a small coiled cable running to her ear.
“Mr Chairman, we’ve received a direct threat to your life,” she said calmly.
“By we, you mean?”
“Sorry, Secret Service.”
The Chairman smiled knowingly. “I’m getting three death threats a week at the moment. What’s so special about this one that it caught the SS’s attention?”
“I’m not aware of the detail, Sir. I’ve just been instructed to place you under Secret Service protection because of a plausible threat to your life.”
“I’ve always been told that the people we should worry about are those who don’t issue threats.”
“Not entirely true, Sir.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Clark, but the last thing I need just now is the Secret Service surrounding me at every turn. Anyway, people will think it’s a gimmick and I’m over inflating my importance before the nominations are concluded. I’m sorry but I’ll have to decline the offer.”
Clark turned around and looked down the corridor where another equally well dressed young man stood at the elevator, accompanied by two uniformed officers of the US Capitol Police Force and shook her head slightly. Receiving a shrug of the shoulders from the man, she turned back to the Chairman who had watched the interaction with interest.
“Now if there’s nothing else, Agent Clark, I really need to get back to work,” he said, checking his watch. “The Secretary of Defense is currently twiddling his thumbs waiting to give his evidence to my committee.”
As the Chairman tried to move away, Agent Clark grabbed his arm firmly. The Chairman was a powerful man, both politically and physically, standing over six foot tall and despite being in his sixth decade, he was not a man people tackled lightly.
The Chairman looked at the hand on his arm, before raising his eyes to meet Agent Clark’s.
“I’m sorry, Sir, but the threat is real and we’ve been ordered to protect you, whether you like it or not,” said Agent Clark nervously.
“By whom?” boomed the Chairman, having lost patience.
“The Director.”
“Well you phone that little shit and tell him I refused. And if he’s got a problem with that, tell him to grow some balls and come and see me himself, instead of sending me his little bit of fluff. Now if you don’t mind, please remove your hand.”
Amy Clark had, since a very young age, dreamt of joining the United States Secret Service. She had dreamt many times of what would have happened had she been at Kennedy’s side on that fateful afternoon and on each occasion, she had sacrificed herself for her president. Her looks, however, more befitting of the front pages of a glossy magazine, had always worked against her. People automatically assumed her promotions or postings were earned by looks rather than merit.
However, no-one had ever thrown the assertion at her so blatantly. The vision of a naked, overweight and thoroughly repugnant Director turned her stomach. Clark removed her hand from the Chairman’s shoulder and slapped him firmly across the face. As her hand made contact, the realization of her actions hit home, as did the noise waves reverberating down the corridor, carrying her career with them.
Everyone in the busy corridor turned to look at the slapped face of the potential presidential candidate from Montana. The agent previously covering the elevator was already running to protect the Chairman from the woman who, rather bizarrely, had been sent to protect him. The Chairman looked at Agent Clark in stunned silence, his face stinging from the open handed slap and his mouth hanging open in complete and total surprise.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” stammered Clark, her eyes filling with tears.
The Chairman quickly came to his senses and looked around at the sea of stunned faces, all waiting to see his reaction.
“Excuse me, excuse me!” could be heard from the small crowd as the Secret Service agent and two police officers struggled through the crowd that had formed. Without thinking, the Chairman grabbed Clark’s limp arm and ushered her into a small office, closing the door firmly behind them.
“I don’t know what came over me. I mean, I can’t believe I hit you. Don’t worry, I’ll resign immediately,” said Clark pulling herself together.
A banging at the door announced the arrival of her colleague.
“Mr Chairman, Sir? Are you OK?”
The Chairman opened the door slightly. “Fine, thank you. Now if you could just clear the on-lookers, that would be greatly appreciated,” he said before shutting the door again and turning back to a very embarrassed Special Agent Clark.
Rubbing his cheek, he paused before he spoke.
“Feisty little thing, aren’t you? OK, you’ve got my attention. Why should I take this threat more seriously?”
Clark was stunned. She had fully expected a tirade from the Chairman, not a weakening of his position.
“But I hit you?” she struggled.
“You’re not the first and won’t be the last. Now, stop giving me the run-around and tell me why the Secret Service has its knickers in a twist over this threat.”
“But lots of people witnessed me hit you? The press will be all over this. I’ll have to resign.”
“You’ll do no such thing. I’ll tell them I fully deserved it, that it was a lover’s tiff. One photo of you in the press and the suggestion I was or am your lover will do wonders for my approval ratings.”
“But…”
“No buts, it’s fine. The fluff comment was out of order and more a reaction to that detestable director than to you. I apologize. Now cut the crap and tell me why they’re worried.”
“The threat came by phone, not by letter and the caller left his name and told us he had had enough of the bloody Senator from Montana. He said it was time somebody did something about the liberal piece of shit before he destroyed our great nation. He claimed to be on his way and was willing to do whatever it took to rid the country of the scumbag.”
“Nothing unusual in that, is there?”
“It’s not so much what he said, it’s the name he used.”
“What?”
“Yuri Andriev.”
The Chairman’s face went white with horror.
“You know him?” asked Clark, surprised.
“Yes. Very well. Who sent you here?”
“What?”
“Who sent you here?”
“I told you, the Director.”
“Did he personally select you?” he asked firmly.
“No, he selected my colleague Special Agent Travis who was at the elevator.”
The Chairman looked around the office. “The uniformed officers with your colleague, did you bring them with you?”
Clark considered the question. “No, they met us here. They were informed of the threat and joined us in the foyer. Why?”
The Chairman looked deep into Clark’s eyes. “Can I trust you?”
“Of course, my job is to protect you,” replied Clark, mystified as to where the Chairman was going with his questions.
“OK, from what you’ve said, my life is at risk but it’s not from Yuri Andriev.”
“But I’ve not told you who he is yet…”
“I told you, I know who he is.”
“So you know he’s the man who killed your brother?”
A bang on the door interrupted the conversation and was followed by “Sir, are you OK?”
“Fine thanks,” replied the Chairman.
“That’s Travis,” said Clark referring to the voice from behind the door.
“Special Agent Clark, your sworn duty is to protect your protectee, correct?” asked the Chairman.
“Of course.”
“And I am that protectee, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I believe the greatest threats to my life are the men on the other side of this door. You have to get me out of here and to a safe location asap.”
Clark looked at him like he had completely lost his mind.
“Those men are sworn to protect you. Don’t be ridiculous! As I said, the man who’s making threats now was the man who killed your brother three years ago. He’s a Russian assas…”
“Agent Clark,” interrupted the Chairman. “You’ve not met my brother. There’s not a man on this earth who could kill him single-handedly. Yuri Andriev is the man who tried to kill my brother. My brother’s not dead. He just couldn’t continue working. If my brother contacted you it’s because somebody tried to kill him. That, I can assure you, is a very stupid thing to do. The men who know he’s alive would not attempt that for no reason. If they tried to kill him, they want to kill me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Trust me, when you meet him, you’ll understand. You don’t mess with my brother, nor anyone he cares about. Now are you going to get me out of here or am I leaving on my own?”