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They did.
"Just to keep all the ducks in a row, Tom," Britton said as he carefully examined the revolver, reloaded it, and put it in his lap, "Joel didn't take them. The clown in Philadelphia did."
" 'The clown'?" McGuire asked. "Supervisory Special Agent in Charge Morrell? That clown, Special Agent Britton?"
"Right. Just before he told me I was being transferred to Kansas or someplace just as soon as the, quote, interview, close quote, was over."
"And was that the clown you told what he could do with the Secret Service, Jack?" Delchamps asked.
"You're not being helpful, Edgar," McGuire said.
"No. I told that to the clown here in D.C.," Britton said thoughtfully. "But I think he was a supervisory special agent in charge, too."
Castillo, Delchamps, and Davidson laughed.
Britton picked up his Secret Service credentials, examined them, and held them up. "Does this mean, as they say in the movies, that I'm 'free to go'?"
"Not back to Philly to shoot up a mosque, Jack," McGuire said. "Think that through."
"Where the hell did you get that? From the clown in Philly?"
"I got that from Joel," Castillo said. "I think he got it from the clown in Philly. You apparently said something about knowing, quote, how to get the bastards, unquote."
"By which I meant I was going to go to Counterterrorism--I used to work there, remember?--and see if we couldn't send several of the bastards away on a federal firearms rap. In the commission of a felony--and shooting up Sandra and my house and car is a felony--everybody participating is chargeable. Use of a weapon in the commission of a felony is another five years, mandatory. Not to mention just having a fully auto AK is worth ten years in the slam and a ten-thousand-dollar fine." He paused and exhaled audibly. "Did that ass . . . Sorry. Did that supervisory special agent in charge really think I was going to walk into the mosque and open fire? For Christ's sake, I'm a cop."
"I don't think you left him with that good-cop impression, Jack," Davidson said, chuckling. "I think he saw you as Rambo in a rage."
"The Philly cops could have gotten a judge to give us a probable-cause warrant to search both the mosque and the place in Philadelphia because of the attack on Sandra, and the Secret Service wouldn't have been involved," Britton went on.
"Sandra, do you happen to speak Spanish?" Castillo asked.
"Why? Is that also some sort of Secret Service no-no?"
"Yes or no?"
"Now, why in the world would you suspect that a semanticist might speak Spanish?"
Castillo switched to Spanish: "Fiery Spanish temper, maybe?"
She flashed her eyes at him, then laughed.
"Yeah," she replied in Spanish. "Classical, Mexican, and Puerto Rican Harlem. What's that you're speaking?"
"I was hoping it would sound Porteno."
It took her a moment to make the connection.
"Yeah," she said. "You could pass."
"So how do you think you're going to like Buenos Aires?"
"I don't know. I seem to recall another ex-Philly cop got herself shot there."
"I would say it's Jack's call, but that wouldn't be true, would it? Your call, Sandra: You two go to Buenos Aires, or stay here and Jack continues his war with the Secret Service. And he's going to lose that war. They are not going to put him back on the Protection Detail. . . ."
"It's not fair, Sandra," McGuire said. "But that's the way it is. They just don't take chances with the President and the Vice President. As a matter of fact, there's an old pal of mine . . . " He stopped.
"Go on, Tom," Castillo said. "They'll find out anyhow."
