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“You don’t have to lie to me,” Ross said casually. “I’m not going to tell anyone.”
Five more agents fell in around them. The shortest was six feet one and the tallest was six feet six. They looked more like a basketball team than a security detail.
“I don’t lie, sir.” Brown’s eyes scanned the crowd in the lobby. “Just so you know, I’m going to have to put this in my report.”
“What, in your report?”
“The presence of marijuana.”
Ross looked at him sideways. “You can’t be serious?”
“It was pretty thick in there, sir, and we take drug tests. I have to write it up.”
Ross frowned. He could just see the press getting a hold of something like this.
“Don’t worry, sir. It’ll be internal. We’re good at keeping secrets.”
The Secret Service agents and the vice president–elect stepped through the front door and onto the sidewalk. Two more six-plus-foot agents were waiting for them. They were traveling light, which was the other reason for Agent Brown’s foul mood. Motorized vehicles were banned in the town of Zermatt. Brown wanted to get an exemption from the Swiss, but Ross wouldn’t let him. It was after all an environmental conference. Ross would ride the electric city busses just like everyone else.
This was both a logistical and security nightmare for the Secret Service. There was no bombproofing, let alone bulletproofing, electric vehicles. They simply didn’t have the horsepower to handle the extra weight, especially with some of the steep inclines they had to deal with. That meant Ross would be exposed to and from every venue all weekend long. In light of the attack on the motorcade, no one at the Secret Service liked this idea, but Ross held his ground.
The other problem was that Ross had sprung this trip on them at the last minute. That meant the advance team had arrived barely a day before the rest of the detail. A city bus was commandeered for the weekend, and two agents set about learning how to drive the large, low-powered vehicles. Brown arrived the next day to discover that his boys had crashed the bus. The narrow village streets were simply too difficult for amateurs to navigate. So now they had a civilian driving them, and no backup bus available as a decoy, nor a replacement should this one fail. The entire trip had degenerated into everything he’d been taught not to do. With Ross refusing to allow him to bring in one of the limos or Suburbans on standby in Milan, they were forced to adapt and settle for a less than ideal situation.
A perimeter had been formed around the yellow and green village bus. Black paper had been taped over the large windows along the back half. Brown escorted Ross onto the bus and walked him to the rear, where he sat him down between two black clad and heavily armed members of the Counter Assault Team. More agents piled on the bus and they started to roll. A light fluffy snow was falling as the bus hummed through the narrow streets. They didn’t have far to go. That was one good thing about Zermatt. The village was small. Speyer’s house was barely a mile away, most of it uphill. Two agents had been deployed in advance. Brown had wanted to send a team of six to sweep the house and wand the other guests as they arrived, but when Ross got wind of it he hit the roof. Ross chewed his ass out and Brown had to stand there and take it. He kept headquarters appraised of his every move and left a significant e-mail trail explaining that Ross had overruled him every step of the way. If something happened Brown wasn’t going to take the blame for it. He’d watched what they’d done to Rivera after the attack on the motorcade. She’d been put on administrative leave pending the completion of the investigation. Now she’d been cooling her heels for two and a half months. Even if they cleared her, there was no way she would get anywhere near the president’s detail.
With barely a hundred meters to the house the bus rounded a hairpin turn and stalled. The driver turned to Brown and in clear English said, “Too heavy. Too much weigh
t.”
“Wonderful.” Brown scowled and then mumbled to himself, “What a chicken shit operation.” He looked around at his fellow agents and said, “Everybody off accept Kendal and Fitz.” Brown was referring to the two men sandwiching Ross.
One by one eight agents piled off the bus and then slowly but steadily, the vehicle climbed the last steep incline. The agents who had disembarked dogged it up the hill double time without having to be ordered. The bus couldn’t go very fast so they kept pace, but when they got to the top they were all panting due to the thin mountain air. One of the two advance agents was waiting for them with a smile on his face. It vanished as soon as Brown stepped off the bus.
“What in the hell do you think is so funny?”
“Nothing, boss,” the man said sheepishly.
“What’s the situation in there?” Brown jerked his head toward the house.
“Eighty-three guests plus sixteen people from the caterer. No whack jobs.”
“Exits?”
“We’re piggybacking his security system. Everything is wired and covered.”
Brown stepped back onto the bus and said, “Sir, we’re ready.”
Ross stood and buttoned his tweed sport coat. He was wearing a gray and blue Nordic sweater underneath and some jeans. He exited the bus and proceeded to the front door, where it was opened for him by one of the host’s servants. The heavy wooden door swung in, and Ross was met by Speyer, who was waiting for him.
The banker was dressed in a red velvet smoking jacket, black pants, and a pair of black suede house slippers. He was every bit the stylish host, even here in the mountains.
“Mr. Vice President.” Speyer made a rolling motion with his right hand and then bowed at the waist. “It is an honor to have you as a guest at my humble abode.”
Ross laughed. “I’m still just Mark to you, Joseph. I won’t be sworn in for another week.”
“Oh…do not deprive me the joy of using such an exalted title.” The banker looked up at Ross and smiled.
“Stand up you imbecile, before I have you flogged.”
