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“After they took away Ritter’s body, I remember Bobby Scott coming over to me, to check my injury.”
“Under the circumstances that was pretty remarkable.”
“Well, he didn’t know what had happened. He just knew he had a wounded agent. All the crap hit later.”
“Anything else?”
King studied the floor. “When they were taking me out later, Bobby and Sidney Morse were going toe-to-toe out in the corridor.
There was another guy with them, someone I didn’t recognize. Morse was about five-ten and two hundred fifty pounds of mostly blubber, and you had ex-Army-built-like-an-oak-tree Bobby Scott, and they were really going at it. It was quite a sight. Another time it might have made me laugh.”
“What were they arguing about?”
“Ritter was dead and it was Scott’s fault—I’m sure that’s what Bobby was hearing from Morse.”
“Did you see either of them after that?”
“I only saw Bobby at some official hearings that took place afterwards. We never spoke privately. I always thought about calling him up, telling him I was sorry for what had happened. But I never did.”
“I read where Sidney Morse was committed to a mental institution.”
“Yep. I don’t think he really cared what Ritter’s politics were. For Morse, it was all a show, a big production. He was in show business or something way back when. And I did overhear him telling someone that if he could propel a guy like Ritter to the national spotlight, it would make him—Morse—an icon.”
Michelle looked around and shivered. “It’s so quiet in here. It reminds me of a tomb.”
“Well, in a way it is. Two men died here.”
“I’m glad it wasn’t three.”
Wasn’t it? King thought.
She drew a line on the floor with the beam from the flashlight. “The rope to hold back the crowds was right about here, wasn’t it?” King nodded. “So it would have pretty much run from that wall to about a foot behind the edge of the wall for the elevator bank. And on the video I remember that it ran catty-cornered. Do you remember who placed the rope there?”
“It would have been the Service.”
“So the detail leader, Bob Scott?”
“I doubt that Bobby got into those sorts of details.”
“So how do you know the Service did it, for sure?”
He shrugged. “I guess I don’t. I just knew Ritter and I were going to be behind that rope.”
“Exactly.” She handed the light to King and positioned herself where King had stood and looked over at the elevators. “Okay, with the rope there and you here, you’d be the only one in the room who could see the elevators. That seems prearranged. And, by the way, the elevator was certainly holding your attention again.”
“Forget the elevator,” he snapped. “Why the hell am I even here? Ritter was a jerk. Hell, I’m glad he’s dead.”
“He was still a presidential candidate, Sean. I didn’t like John Bruno, but I guarded the man like he was the president of the United States.”
He said curtly, “You don’t need to lecture me on agency standards. I was guarding presidents while you were spending all your time rowing a boat for a hunk of metal.”
Michelle said slowly, “Is staying up all night screwing another agent when you’re posting the next day part of Secret Service protection standards? If it is, I must have missed that one in the manual.”
“Yeah, it’s right next to the rule about never leaving a protectee alone in a room. I guess you missed that one too,” he shot back.
“I hope Joan was worth it.”
“Loretta Baldwin told you about the panties on the ceiling light, so draw your own conclusion.”
