Her Secret Service (Jane Roe 1), Jason Letts [story reading .txt] 📗

“The president seemed to think I’d be tagging along on the Dayton trip tomorrow, so I guess I’ll be doing that,” she said, about to pull away from the doorway and vanish down the hall until she saw a skeptical look on his face that made her inwardly grumble. She had a good relationship with her boss, who had gone out on a limb and given her a big chance when it came to her job, but he was the kind that was very by-the-book and with nothing overlooked.

“That’s not really necessary, is it?”

Between his hooked nose, bowl-cut blonde hair he’d probably had all his life, and imperfectly tied ties, Vale was a bit of a misfit among the other senior staff members in a way she appreciated.

But the last thing she wanted was to dig deep into parsing her interest in participating in this trip. When it came to being in the Secret Service, keeping secrets was the part Jane was the best at, and there were some things she wasn’t ready to admit even to herself.

“Probably not, but it might be a good idea to get an on-the-ground view once in a while to keep myself informed about the detail’s needs.”

“How was your ride with the president?”

Vale caught eyes with her when he said that in a way that made it unmistakable that he’d bridged the connection. He had an investigator’s heart and hardly missed anything, but Jane wondered if he’d make any kind of implication about her that crossed the big red line questioning her professionalism.

“It was a success from a security standpoint, but he was a mess and didn’t ride for very long,” she said.

“It might be best if you stay here and continue planning his upcoming events.”

“I can just as easily do that on the plane or during the trip. It’s not like I’ll be watching the hearing.”

“Is there a particular reason you’re so adamant about going?” Vale asked her pointedly.

“No,” Jane said faster than her mind could come up with an explanation to go along with it. “Not that I don’t love the office, but I guess I’m feeling like getting out more and keeping closer tabs would be beneficial.”

Her boss stared blankly at her, either waiting for her to go on or even say the obvious that she wanted to go to be around the president. Dread set in that he’d say something about her age and appearance and how Alex Morrin might respond to that in his current state, which would force her to contemplate things she knew were better sealed off.

“Alright. I don’t want any of your detail requirement documents to be a minute late,” he said.

“Of course not.”

Jane slipped out, feeling at once oddly excited about going on a trip that had no practical purpose for her and subdued about how hard she’d fought to pursue it. Maybe she was tired of being a shadow in the background three steps away from the action. Up until now that was all she had, but a creeping suspicion seeped into her mind that her subconscious interests were leading her closer.

Now that she’d been cleared for the trip, she also felt foolish about taking it. Despite the president’s inquiry into her plans, she doubted he would even notice whether or not she was there. Odds of speaking to him were zero and he surely wouldn’t be in much of a pleasant frame of mind anyway considering he was going to a divorce hearing. Letting his off-hand friendly comment dictate her plans was unwise to say that least.

But as she went about packing a small bag and determining which of her suits would be most appropriate to wear, she didn’t see how it could lead to much harm.

7

5937 Central Ave

Capitol Heights, MD

When it came to making a bomb, Oliver did things the way he always did them, by practicing and checking everything over. He’d conducted his first two tests way out in the woods, even going so far as digging a deep hole to detonate them in so that there wouldn’t be much visible noise or flame to draw people’s attention.

Even before that he’d meticulously covered his tracks. Once he found out which book had the most suitable instructions for his purposes, he spent two days driving out to Iowa so that he could purchase it with cash in person rather than order over the internet and have it be traced. The time would come when he could dispense with the circumspection, but for now methodical secrecy was the order of the day.

In his cramped two-room apartment on the second floor above a laundromat, Oliver put together the device that he would use to assassinate the president of the United States. Sitting on the floor next to some half-empty pizza boxes, he mused that the trickiest part of this wasn’t even going to be getting the explosive near the president.

Slipping off the boom mic’s foam cover and using a screwdriver to get into the microphone casing, he recalled all the times luggage had been carelessly stuffed onto Air Force One. Since they all had security clearances, little more than an x-ray scanner was used to whisk things through, none of the dogs or other measures that security at the White House employed. A boom mic filled with explosives would look essentially the same as it usually did, something he knew after checking himself.

The trick was actually going to be fooling Heath, who would be most likely to know that the weight of the microphone was a little off and that it wasn’t working properly. That meant Oliver’s job directly prior to execution was to distract Heath so that he couldn’t run a soundcheck on the microphone.

Alas, in addition to the president, Heath and most of the other technicians clustering around when public remarks were given upon exiting the Dayton courthouse would not survive the event, but that was a necessary sacrifice he was