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Marshall is staring me dead in the eye, and I cling to that, hold his gaze. I’m not going to lose it. I can’t. Brennan needs me. My jaw clenches until my teeth scream.
“Who else knows this?” Marshall’s voice is maddeningly calm.
“I ordered the forensic team to keep it under wraps. As of this moment, only that team of eight, myself, Agent Sheridan, and the three of you.”
“Do you have any idea where President Walker could be?”
“No, sir.”
“Why haven’t you brought the damn dogs out?” McClintock bellows. “Can’t you track his phone? If the president was kidnapped, we need to be on his trail!”
“The fire obliterated any physical trail he or his kidnappers might have left. His personal phone is in the Residence, and both of my agents’ cell phones were destroyed in the blaze. Physically and digitally, we have no leads, not from the crash.”
McClintock curses.
I press on. “Whoever did this, whoever attacked the president, they knew where he was going to be, which means they had to know about last night’s briefing, too.”
“How many people knew about the meeting at Langley?”
“Very few.”
“Mainly, your Secret Service detail.” Marshall’s voice skins me. “It sounds as if there is a leak in your team, Agent Theriot. Is it the position of the Secret Service that the failure lies in your hands?”
“Hold on—” Britton starts.
“No, sir. I trust the members of my team with my life and with the president’s life. It wasn’t us.”
“You just lost the president.”
Those words nearly bring me to my knees. “Mr. Vice President, the Secret Service lost two good men tonight. They were my friends. You can smell what remains of them on me.” I hold out my blackened, blistered hands. “And see, right here.”
Britton’s eyes hit the floor.
Marshall isn’t moved. “Emotions don’t change facts. The president is gone on your watch.”
I know. I fucking know. Putain de bordel de merde, I want to rip out my heart—or close my eyes and wake up in the future, when all this has passed and Brennan is lying on the pillow beside me, smiling while he runs his fingers over my collarbone and down my chest.
But that future won’t exist until I make it. I have to find him.
“Sir, you can hate me when this is over, but right now, I’m your best chance of finding President Walker.”
“How do you mean?”
“There’s no one the president trusted more than me.” Arched eyebrows all around. Disbelief echoes. “He didn’t tell any of you about the briefing, did he?” Silence. I’ve made my fucking point. “I know where he was going. I know exactly where the SUV was when it stopped. I know the two men who were in the vehicle with him. I’ve served with both for over ten years.”
“A team of FBI agents can read these details in your handoff report—”
“That will take time! Time we don’t have, if President Walker is still alive. Mr. Vice President, I know where he was going, and I know who he was meeting. I know my people. What I don’t know is the CIA side of this equation—”
“Are you seriously suggesting that the director of the CIA organized a hit on the president?” Incredulity strains Marshall’s voice almost to breaking.
“You accused the Secret Service a moment ago, Mr. Vice President.” Britton’s voice is soft, but ice cold.
Marshall shoots him a withering glare.
“Not the director, but possibly someone inside his circle at the CIA. Someone who knew about this meeting.”
“Why should I, or anyone in this government, ever trust you again, Agent Theriot?” Marshall asks. “Tell me why I shouldn’t take your badge and your gun and have you escorted off the grounds this minute.”
