“Speaking of seconds,” continued Hollenbeck, who had been named interim director of White House Secret Service Operations. “When are you coming back to work? I’m starting to get tired of keeping your seat warm for you.”
“Don’t listen to him,” said Longo. “You could stay away for another six months and it wouldn’t bother him a bit. I think the power has gone right to his head.”
“There’s nothing worse than people who only feel bitterness and jealousy as their betters zip past them on the ladder of success,” replied Hollenbeck.
“See what I mean?” responded Longo. “And you know what? On top of it all, he’s become quite arrogant.”
“Arrogant? Me? Palmer, you’ve got to come to my defense here. Tell Harvath I am the same old Tom Hollenbeck you’ve always known and loved.”
“Well,” she began slowly, “loved is a pretty strong word.”
“Okay then, known,” he replied.
“Jeez, Tom-wait I’m sorry-Jeez, Mr. Interim Director-that is the way you told us all to address you, isn’t it?” she joked.
“I can’t believe this,” cried Hollenbeck. “Every time I turn around, another knife in the back!”
“Well, I’m glad nothing’s changed around here,” said Harvath as he joined his friends at their table.
They made small talk until it was time for Harvath’s meeting. When he got up to leave, Palmer asked, “So, what’s the deal? When are you coming back to work?”
He was as honest with her as he could be and said, “Right now, I don’t know.”
They all shook hands and wished each other well as Harvath left to make his way to the situation room downstairs. It wasn’t unusual for President Rutledge to conduct his more sensitive meetings in this room. It was one of the few places in the entire building where he knew he wouldn’t be disturbed unless there was a dire emergency or matter of grave national consequence.
Though both of the Marines standing guard outside the situation room knew him, they still closely examined the credentials hanging from around Harvath’s neck. Even a facility as secure as the White House had decided that it could use a few improvements. Nothing was left to chance, and things were done strictly by the book. After waiting a few moments outside, Harvath was told he could enter. He heard a click and then the faint hiss of the situation room’s seal and door lock being released.
The first person to stand and greet him was President Jack Rutledge himself. “Scot, it’s good to see you,” said the president as he offered him his hand, which Harvath shook carefully. He was happy to see the president using it again. The kidnappers had cut off one of his fingers and sent it to the former vice president as a threat.
“It is good to see you too, Mr. President,” replied Harvath. “How is the hand?”
“So far so good. We’ll see how I do when pheasant season rolls around. That’ll be the real test.”
“You outshot so many of us last year, Mr. President, we were hoping you might take up a different sport. It’s embarrassing for a lot of the agents that you can shoot better than they can.”
“You weren’t embarrassed, though, were you, Scot?”
“No, sir.”
“And why was that?”
“Because I brought down three more birds than you did.”
“Ah, ah. Let’s tell the truth here. You only brought down two more than me. The third one, supposedly went down somewhere in the woods. As it was never found, you couldn’t rightfully count it, could you?”
“No, Mr. President. I couldn’t. But I know I hit that bird. If I’d only had a better dog-”
“Stop right there, Agent Harvath. I spent a lot of money and a lot of time training those dogs, and I won’t have you disparage my fine pedigreed animals.”
“Fine pedigreed animals? No offense, Mr. President, but Crackle is so lazy, he won’t even chase cars. He just sits on the South Lawn and jots down license plate numbers.”
The other attendees gathered in the situation room began laughing. It was a brief but welcome respite. They hadn’t had anything to laugh about in a while. Harvath had gotten the last word and the president knew it. He slapped him on the back and showed Harvath to his seat. “I believe you know the rest of the gentlemen present,” said the president as he motioned around the table. Indeed he did.
Harvath nodded in turn to FBI director Sorce, CIA director Vaile, Homeland Security director Dreihaus, Secret Service director Jameson, and deputy FBI director Gary Lawlor. Harvath had been expecting to meet with just the president and Director Jameson to discuss his new White House position. With all of the additional people present, he had a feeling he was here to discuss something entirely different. Part of him wondered if he was going to be taken to task for spiriting Meg Cassidy out of Egypt, but he knew he had done the right thing and decided not to stress about it. Harvath knew President Rutledge didn’t like to waste time and would get to the point soon enough.