Her Secret Service (Jane Roe 1)

by Jason Letts

  Taking a deep breath, Jane stood in awe at the scene unfolding before her. This was the part that always made her the proudest when it came to working with the Secret Service, the part that she would miss the most. Everyone here was doing hero’s work to facilitate the heroes on the ground who were rushing to the scene to potentially put their lives on the line.

  Dots began to appear on the map, getting closer and converging on the pickup truck’s central point from all directions. There were more Secret Service agents arriving in the vicinity, but the FBI had units coming too, as did the local police. All of them would be in protective battle-dress uniform, known as BDU’s, and all of them had a specific job to do in relation to facing this threat that would minimize the risk and keep each other as safe as possible.

  Snipers were getting to the rooftops of nearby buildings. Would Oliver Ip happen to notice one if leaned toward the window and looked up? A van with a SWAT team got into position across the small park that Ip had parked beside. The police were setting up roadblocks to prevent traffic from coming through on either side. How long would it take before he realized that cars were no longer passing by and that all of the pedestrians had vanished?

  And when he comprehended that, the thing that made Jane clench her fist was whether he would go quietly and give himself up or start causing trouble.

  “We’ve got a read on the plates. Eric Hanlahan of Slanesville, West Virginia. The FBI has a team en route now,” an agent said from one of the terminals.

  Jane glanced at Nathan, wondering if he was feeling as apprehensive as she was. Considering the audacious scheme Oliver had put together in his attempt to bomb the president, taking him into custody would be only the first step in a long journey to understanding who he was and what he had done. People would be studying this for years to come, and his name very well may get etched into Secret Service history along with other would-be assassins.

  “We’re ready to evacuate the protectee through a rear exit and into a car on the opposite side of the block. Let’s move,” Watch Commander Winger said.

  While the agents assigned to Bethany Morrin’s detail removed her from the area, Jane kept her eyes on the feed of the pickup truck and continued to wonder what was going through Oliver Ip’s mind. He had to know by now that he was isolated, surrounded, and that whatever he was plotting had failed absolutely. Each second she expected the truck to rumble to life and take off, but it didn’t happen.

  From the vantage point of the camera, she could only faintly see some of the outline of his head over the driver’s seat. He didn’t appear to be moving or doing anything. That wouldn’t last for long though, as a big dot representing a hulking armored BearCat began to roll down the street, coming up behind him.

  The risk of explosives was driving the response; they were using the BearCat to get close without leaving anyone physically exposed. At this point guns were trained on the pickup from all directions, Bethany Morrin was speeding away from the scene in a Secret Service vehicle, and they were about to make contact with Oliver Ip, who had to know that his time was running out.

  The radio they had in the Live Monitoring Station picked up the BearCat’s loudspeaker.

  “We have you surrounded. Exit the vehicle and put your hands on your head!”

  Jane swallowed, refusing to blink as she tried to see how Ip would respond. All of the articles he’d written, the fake accounts, the willingness to let his innocent coworkers take the blame, it was all coming down to this. If Ip didn’t cooperate this was going to get ugly fast.

  The muffled pop that came over the radio could’ve been anything, but with Jane’s eyes fixed on Ip’s head, which had finally shifted and was lolling to the side, she knew exactly what it was. She gasped, covering her mouth with her hands again.

  “Shot fired! Shot fired!”

  But instead of returning fire, an agent in the BearCat threw open the door and closed the gap to the pickup truck. The agents all over were drawing closer, aware that the situation had changed but that the risk of explosives was still present.

  The agent pulled open the pickup’s driver’s side door, and Jane didn’t at all envy what he had to be looking at.

  “Suspect shot himself from under the chin and straight through the vehicle’s roof. DOA,” he said.

  Jane took another breath. She was surprised at the outcome, relieved that none of the agents or the protectee had gotten hurt, but also regretful that they hadn’t been able to take Oliver Ip into custody to make him face the consequences for his actions. It was the coward’s way out.

  As they determined that there was no risk of a bomb being in the truck, other agents and law enforcement officers poured into the area. The tension had lifted, but there was still so much work to be done. After being in her job for two years, Jane knew it was naive to wish none of this had happened in the first place—the inevitability of threats and attacks were why their jobs were necessary—but the drive to be smarter, faster, and more efficient took over. Incidents like these turned into case studies that turned into newer, better tools for them to keep their protectees safe.

  Nathan released a deep sigh.

  “Now that one’s done, I can go back to focusing on the other ninety-nine threats the president is facing,” he said wistfully. It was a good reminder that anything they were facing could come to a head any time, and it took a tremendous amount of effort to ensure that everyone lived through the end of the day.

  They slipped out of the Live Monitoring Station and started back through the hall toward the elevator.

  “You said there was another threat that was concerning you. What was that one about?” she asked. Every new promise of violence against the president put Jane’s heart in her throat. Would this be the one that actually came through and delivered? Fighting against that was what drove their mission, but Nathan’s furrowed brow suggested that this was more worrisome than usual.

  “Yeah, it’s something that was sent straight to us, a threat to kill the president, as usual, but it wasn’t anonymous. Well, in a way it was, but the threat was signed by a group called the American Underground Movement. None of us have ever heard of them and there’s no record of them existing anywhere. I can only imagine how underground they have to be for it to be like that. Anyway, whether it’s just one person posturing in some way or if there’s actually some collection of people involved, we’re going to figure it out,” he said.

  Jane had her head bowed, staring at the tiles in front of her feet as she listened. An anonymous Facebook threat had been unsettling and led to an incredibly perilous situation, but an organization trying to brand itself and directly putting the Secret Service on notice that they were going to kill President Morrin was scary in an entirely different way. Maybe it was one person trying to puff himself up, like Oliver Ip did, but they couldn’t bank on that.

  “Good luck with that,” Jane said as they stepped onto the elevator, and Nathan gave her a strange look.

  “You say it like it’s not your problem,” he said, eyebrow raised. “I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. No one is going to have any doubt that nothing would’ve worked out the way it did today without your involvement two or three different ways. Keep your mind open,” he said.

  Putting her hand to her cheek, she wondered if he was right. There was no way the Office of the Inspector General wouldn’t instantly become aware of what happened, but whether it mattered to them was something else. Perhaps it all hinged on whether or not someone had already clicked send on the report.

  By the time Chief Harold Vale called her into his office, the day was down to its last threads and Jane had been contemplating the prospect of showing up the next day, sitting around and continuing to wait. She’d decided she couldn’t do it and would’ve quit rather than be a useless warm body in an office chair. It very well could’ve been the Inspector General’s prerogative to force people to quit out of the sheer agony of waiting, but the report had been at the tail end of the da
y nonetheless.

  Vale held it in front of his face as he flipped through it, making it look like the papers had her boss’s frizzy blond hair from her perspective. She sat in her seat with her fingers under her thighs, girding herself for whatever happened to be on the raft of papers the other governmental agency had sent over about her.

  “I’m sorry about not having had a chance to absorb this before getting you in here,” he said.

  “It’s fine,” Jane muttered, casting glances about his office and Vale’s pictures with previous presidents and notable foreign leaders who’d been under the protection of the Uniformed Division.

  He eventually set the papers down on his desk and leaned back in his chair, hand on his chin and glaring at the report like it was liable to start skittering around the office.

  “It says you’re overworked and at risk of burnout,” he said. Jane snorted.

  “Sounds like everyone.”

  Chief Vale leaned forward and looked directly at her.

  “They say you often make decisions based on emotion, get complacent when it comes to following outdated methods, and have trouble seeing the forest for the trees.”

  Jane laughed. She’d spent so much time and mental energy in fear of this report that when it finally came the results were so much of what she expected that she couldn’t particularly take it seriously.

  “Did it really say that? Last time I checked the only tree we cared about was the president’s life.”

  Vale grunted and set his hand on the report. She straightened up, thinking back to her promise not to make this too difficult for him.

  “There are pages about how you pre-empt and micromanage the other members of the logistics, planning, and advance teams. I have to say I wasn’t aware exactly how many people’s jobs you were trying to juggle,” he said.

  Jane crossed her arms over her waist and cocked her head at him. This was starting to cut a little deep, and he could fast-forward to the conclusion at any time.

  “It says the Secret Service has been too reliant on TSA screening when it comes to what makes it onto Air Force One. We’ve given security clearances too much credit for actually being secure, when they are actually a systemic security risk,” he went on.

  “Right,” Jane muttered. Her ability to take some mirth in the findings that dragged her through the mud had run out. Vale took on a closed-lip smile.

  “I think it’s an even-handed assessment, and too accurate as well. There’s plenty of detail about your skills, your observations, and the impact that you had on shortening the trail to Oliver Ip. You might not have anticipated that the bicycle crash was not mentioned once in the entire document. Some accidents are too innocent and of so little consequence that even the Inspector General can glance past them.”

  Jane took some comfort in the praise, even if it was wedged between mountains of condemnation. Of course, the Secret Service had already hired a professional cyclist to join the president on his weekend trips to Camp David, putting her firmly back in the position of never needing to see Alex Morrin again.

  “So I get to keep my job then?” she asked.

  “I’m getting there,” Vale said with no trace of joy that might’ve given her hope. “There’s plenty about the growing risks to the president. Threats coming from all directions, and more people than ever acting on them. It specifically mentions this latest one from the American Underground Movement. The growth of fringe movements and even attempts to create illegal parallel government structures all point to the president being under constant assault.”

  Nodding, Jane found herself holding her breath.

  “It concludes with a statement that advises us not to take the risk continuing to place so much responsibility on a person with such a history of error, who has shown herself to be a liability to the department and a clear and present danger to the president. Allowing you to continue on would make myself and Deputy Director Salidas complicit in any mishaps that might follow, whether or not you’re directly responsible for them. The prudent thing to do is to let you go,” he said softly, growing somber.

  Jane caught a look in his eyes, set under a heavy brow, that reminded her of the first time she’d met him, shortly after she’d completed her training. She’d expected condescension and sexism, but what she’d gotten from him was a vote of confidence and a leg up. The least she could do was repay the favor.

  “OK,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I don’t mind saving you the trouble and resigning. I suppose I did get lucky that things didn’t turn out worse. The last thing I’d want would be for you to get discredited after all you’ve done for me.”

  She started to get up when he extended a hand.

  “Jane, wait, I’m not going to follow the recommendations in the report. I’ve already spoken to Salidas about it. There may have been mistakes, but the Secret Service can’t keep hemorrhaging its best people just because there are bumps along the way. That’s the nature of the mission. I want you to stay.”

  “What?” she asked, frozen in place. Ever since she’d started working in government, and particularly the Secret Service, she’d never come across a situation where someone didn’t try to reduce their liability or cover for himself. Vale was taking the risk himself that she would cause another problem and he’d have to pay for it.

  He scratched his neck and hunched his shoulders.

  “We’re all blessed to be working with so many dedicated servants, but what I’ve seen from you in the past months has been an inspiration. There aren’t many people who could tackle a time-consuming training regimen and still find the time to outfox the Investigative Division and the FBI when it comes to locking down a jackal. I refuse to let that go, because I know our cause will suffer for it if I do.”

  A smile stretched across Jane’s lips despite her continued apprehension. Hearing that might not have meant so much if she didn’t love her job and hadn’t come into work every day determined to do her best. It looked like she was managing to avoid fleeing back to Colorado by a hair.

  “I promise there won’t be another mistake. I realize what you’re doing and I won’t let you down,” she said.

  Vale sucked his teeth.

  “But between the valid critiques and the compliments in this report, what it says to me is that you may not be in the best role for you. It’s not the right fit, and working logistics puts a lot of your talents to waste,” he said.

  She glared at him, wondering what he meant. There were only so many other places she could go.

  “The Investigative Division then?” she said, wondering if she’d end up working with Nathan. “Or counterfeit currency?”

  “I’m not sure,” Vale said. “I’ll need to give it some thought and have other discussions with the directors to see where you might belong.”

  “Thank you,” she said, trying to sound optimistic even though the question of where she belonged was one that frequently rattled around her brain. Helping to oversee the Presidential Protective Division was an honor and an incredible credential, but perhaps there really was a job better suited to her. But judging from what Vale had hinted at were her strengths and the jobs in the Secret Service, what she envisioned as being perfect didn’t exist as far as she knew. Where could she protect, investigate, and need to use her body all at the same time?

  When she left work, it was a relief to be able to leave the boxes where they were, and for all she knew she’d be back to unpack them tomorrow, or she’d be whisked off to a new job somewhere else. Despite still being employed, the feeling she had about her tenuous work position was bittersweet. The report had laid bare her failings, in some ways unjustly, and she knew that no matter Vale’s praise she wasn’t being trusted with the Presidential Protective Division anymore.

  Jane tried to look at the bright side and extract some satisfaction in the moment by stopping at a gas station to pick up some ice cream. It would go well with the cereal and cartoons she was planning on for a muted celebration she’d be embarrass
ed if anyone found out about.

  Inside, the shop had a TV right over a newsstand with some talking heads going on about President Morrin’s plummeting approval ratings. Time magazine had a cover with the title, “Women Turn Their Backs on Morrin.” Maybe it was the dreary atmosphere of a gas station at night, but that Alex had reached a low point in his fledgling presidency was hitting home with her.

  She wished she could help, but the only thing she could do at the moment was pick up a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough and shell out a few bucks at the counter.

  Back at her apartment where boxes of her belongings were stacked up close to the door, she was again confronted with the uncomfortable reality that she didn’t know where she was going to go. Signing a new lease when her position was going to change didn’t make sense. Considering there was only one more day left before she had to beat feet, the likelihood of squatting in a hotel room and tossing her boxes in storage was rising rapidly.

  She knew a couple of guys who might be interested in helping her move, but it’d been so long since she’d talked to them that they also might not remember her name. The Secret Service had taken over her life to a degree that other than her small family everything outside of that had withered.

  The unsettled agitation she felt compelled her to save the ice cream and cartoons for a little later, opting instead to spend some time on a floor mat performing some exercises. Finding a hotel with a gym or a better neighborhood where she could run on warm evenings hit the top of her wants list.

  Jane was upside down with her head and arms on the mat and her feet straight up in the air when a loud knock at the door startled her.

  She was unused to visitors and had no idea who it could be. Maybe she was due for another break-in and the boxes would make the theft expeditious.