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Her Secret Service

Jason Letts

1

H St.

Washington, DC

The president was getting a divorce.

When Jane happened to spot the news as she glanced at her phone while sitting in the back of a car with three men in black suits, her jaw dropped. For a second she couldn’t believe it. Never before in the history of the nation had a sitting president gone through a divorce, and for it to be only two months into his first term had her head spinning.

“Did you hear about this?” she asked, even though she knew the answer since the news had just broken. “The president and the First Lady are headed for splitsville.”

The man seated next to her turned his head in shock, but the vehicle’s driver, Dedan, snickered and tapped his hand against the steering wheel.

“That might explain why it’s always so quiet around the residence at night. Never a peep. You’d think the place was vacant. Barely any talking and certainly nothing more active,” he said.

“Did it say why?” asked Evans from the passenger seat in front of her.

“No,” Jane answered, scanning the story as fast as she could. “Evidently it leaked out that the First Lady hired a lawyer known for divorce and they’re preparing to file.”

“He must’ve done something really bad,” Dedan went on. “Maybe she found out about something from earlier in his life, something nobody knows. I can’t imagine how bad it would have to be for him not to be able to convince her to stay. I mean, he hasn’t even been in the big chair long enough to warm it up, and now he’ll be the laughingstock of the hill. He’s a lame duck even before spring hits on his first term.”

Whether or not that was true, Jane couldn’t help but also get swept up in speculation. Infidelity was something she ruled out immediately. The president had self-control to spare, not to mention a strong sense of direction, and wasn’t the type for bonehead scandals. She wondered whether other usual grounds for divorce could even apply in their situation. Would the First Lady really be unable to find a way to rationalize staying in her important role because of lack of intimacy or even a dearth of love?

Whatever the reason, this revelation did produce more practical concerns that Jane would have to contend with. The political implications were irrelevant, but divorce was going to lead to assumptions, assumptions were going to lead to anger, and that meant the possible threat of danger for the president had just increased.

“We’re going to have to be more alert,” she said.

Dedan shifted in his seat so that he could glance back at her, lowering his shades so that she could see his dark eyes.

“We’re always on maximum alert,” he said.

Jane smiled at exactly the answer she wanted to hear. Of course, he was right. They were the Secret Service.

As the car turned from 15th St. onto Pennsylvania Avenue NW, the fringes of the White House came into view. Not once in two years on the job had she ever gotten within viewing distance of the White House without being swept up in a sense of wonder. Even though the last remnants of winter had left the roads and grounds covered in slush, the iconic building’s white columns and stately facade always managed to fill her with awe.

In some ways the world revolved around what happened in this building. History happened here. The fate of so many lives were being determined here on a daily basis. And in one tiny but crucial way, mostly at arm’s length, Jane was a minuscule part of making sure it all worked as it was supposed to. She would have to consider the implications that the divorce would have on their security protocols, but that was far from the only issue she had to contend with and had nothing to do with why she needed to visit the White House on this particular day.

After they passed through the gate, Dedan turned the vehicle on the drive that circled by the rear entrance, where Secret Service members were stationed to scrutinize all incoming vehicles. Even though they were all part of the same department, their credentials were checked before they were allowed to exit the vehicle and approach the building.

“Back to battle,” Dedan said as they walked through the portico doors, which were being held open for them. Jane grinned. If he could be motivated to attack the role he had of standing still for eight hours without a break in the chilly air to watch the West Wing colonnade where almost no one was likely to pass through for long stretches of time, she could summon some fiery motivation and determination for her job as well.

“Thanks for the ride and stay sharp. I’ll bring the car back when I’m done,” Jane said to them before again presenting her credentials at the interior security checkpoint to make sure she had the clearance necessary to move about the building.

She took one more glance at the three agents she’d arrived with as they went to the front lines and she went her own way. All of the agents she served with were selfless heroes with senses of duty and integrity to fill an ocean. They inspired her. But these men and women were human too, as were the people they were sworn to protect. That sometimes made things tricky, but as long as everyone lived through the end of the day Jane could sleep easy at night in order to get up and do it all again.

Taking the long way, Jane savored every step as she progressed from the entrance to the cross hall and its red carpet, taking note of the presidential portraits on the walls and nodding to Secret Service agents stationed by various rooms. She passed the press briefing room, glancing through the windows to see that the press secretary was at the podium answering questions.

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