by C. R. Daems
We left with Patterson screaming, "Good riddance. We should burn you like we did the witches. You're all going to burn in hell anyway ..." Her voice faded as I closed the door behind us.
"I didn't think we could just leave even if they were a bit wacko," I said.
Liang had said the company had spent years training us; therefore, assignments weren't optional.
"Normally, we can't and shouldn't. If there is an overriding reason why you feel you can't or shouldn't take an assignment, it should be discussed before you start. Once you're given the assignment, it's yours for better or worse. Some clients are great people, while others are assholes like Patterson. You learn to ignore them. Liking or hating them is a luxury you can't afford, because it would affect your performance. Getting too fond of one could cause you to be a martyr, which could result in you both being killed. Hating the person could make you slow to respond.
However, if a person doesn't want you or makes it impossible for you to protect them under our protocol, then they have chosen to cancel the assignment, not you. She probably thinks she hurt our feelings and that's why we left. I couldn't care less what she says or thinks about me. But if she doesn't want us around, there is no point in staying."
What Liang said made sense. Liang hadn't decided to quit because Patterson had called her a lesbian. Patterson had in effect fired us when she demanded we not follow her, since that was the ZAP protocol for protecting her. These were the subtleties of the job, which again made me glad Liang was partnered with me on my first assignment. She was a new ZAP agent like me, but she had been a senior FBI agent for many years and was responsible for creating the groups' operating procedures. We had just reached the airport when Liang's cell rang.
"Hi, Phil." Liang turned on the speakerphone.
"Patterson called me and said lesbians were unacceptable and wanted you replaced. I told her you were ZAP agents, and she had terminated the contract, not you, by not letting you do your job. You didn't care that she was rude and opinionated; you were professionals and would have done your job regardless. I think that upset her, because she hung up." He sounded amused.
"When she realized whoever she called next had no influence over ATG9, she called and requested you back. I assume under normal circumstances we should give the agent a choice. Something to consider in the future. Your idea of accompanying the new agents into the field appears to have been a good one. The concept is new, and it is going to encounter resistance, which we need to understand and determine how to handle. I'm looking forward to partnering with Agent Gilman and calling Director Liang when I encounter problems." He laughed. "Patterson is probably a great test case. I'm glad it's you and not me." The connection went dead. Liang looked to me and I nodded.
"If the powers-that-be think it's important to protect her, it's fine with me, Director Liang," I said. Unlike others, I found Patterson amusing. Spoiled rich people like her were the reason I thought I'd like the life of a ZAP agent.
Liang called Chuck, who was the senior FBI man in charge, and found Patterson was beginning a bus-tour of her district, which extended from Oklahoma City to the Texas border. Her first stop was in the Town of Moore for a fundraising event at the Springhill Suites.
We caught another cab and arrived to find Patterson shaking hands, giving hugs, and kissing babies. Liang nodded toward the wall, which I took to mean my position. I could see her point. We didn't need two of us standing next to Patterson. One would be enough to make the point we were going to follow her whether she liked it or not. Better Liang than me, I mused.
I was still trying to establish the ATG9-client relationship. For ZAP training, our clients had been paid to be clients and, therefore, had been passive participants. In the real world, clients were free to express themselves, as Patterson had so eloquently demonstrated. Liang's attitude seemed clear: a ZAP agent was assigned to protect the client, not to make him or her happy. That contrasted with the FBI, who had to be careful not to inconvenience the person they were assigned to protect or risk damaging their career.
ZAP rules were invasive but made the agent a better bodyguard. Staying close to the client at all times made it difficult for an assassin to get to the client without going through the agent. It was several times more risky for the agent but safer for the client—one of life's everyday tradeoffs—safety vs convenience.
It would be easier to give the client more space, and it wouldn't require the clash of wills that was occurring with Patterson. It would be easier just to warn the client of the potential dangers of being out of sight and let him decide how much privacy he wanted—let him determine the amount of risk he was willing to assume. But was that what I wanted—a stress-free, easy, and carefree job? As I surveyed the room, I noticed that Chuck and his crew were doing just that. If I did, I could have joined the regular FBI and saved myself two years of hardship.
I wondered if Jasmin would have the same thoughts when she got her first assignment. Knowing Jasmin, she would be as dedicated as Liang and have no trouble telling the client who made the rules. Jasmin would consider ZAP protocol the bible. I wouldn’t, but I'd implement them just the same, for different reasons. Three years ago, I wouldn't have believed I'd love the action, challenge, and the chance to participate in the lives of those people who impact the future of America—oh, and protect them. I smiled. Get ready world, ZAP Agent Kate Mathis has arrived.
Now that those issues were settled, I watched Liang shadowing Patterson, not too close so she could maintain a view of the potential trouble from behind. Every now and then Patterson would scowl in her direction, but she didn't say anything. Chuck stood scanning the room, smiling every time his eyes passed Patterson and Liang. Eventually, Patterson made it to the podium and Liang moved back against the wall, not ten feet away. Patterson gave her a look of disgust before adjusting the microphone and smiling at her audience.
"My opponents want to turn our state … no, our country … into a haven for lazy illegals who will take your jobs, sponge off your hard work and taxes, change our language, and take away our religious rights … " The tirade went on and on—a ten-minute speech regurgitated over and over again for hours. Well maybe it just seemed like hours since the sun hadn't set. I had to admit she had an enthusiastic audience, who clapped at the appropriate references to illegals, queers, godless, child killers, wetbacks, and lesbians. After light refreshments and more hand shaking, hugs, and kisses, Patterson left. Her staff, FBI detail, Liang, and I followed a few steps behind her like chicks tagging behind a mother hen.
"Do you have to walk so close behind us? My FBI detail doesn’t!" Patterson said to us as she turned to enter her campaign bus. "Oh, and you can find your own ride."
Liang ignored her and followed her up the stairs. The bus continued down Interstate 35, and Patterson made two more stops for campaign speeches. The bus was half full of people busy on the phone coordinating events for the next week, making reservations, and soliciting funds. Several others were on laptops, monitoring current events and writing 3 by 5 cards for her to use during her speeches.
Her advisor, Simon, was a surprise. I'd have expected another out of control person stoking the fire in her. But he talked quietly and, while agreeing with her, subtly moderated her approach. I thought that must really be hard work. Except for impeccable clothing and penetrating eyes, he was an average looking man with graying hair. It shouldn't have been a surprise that Patterson treated the folks on the bus in an easy, friendly way, almost like family. She ignored us if you didn't count the hateful glances in our direction every five minutes. The FBI followed—stress free—in a big black Chevy Tahoe.
Around seven that evening, we stopped at a Marriott Hotel where she had a suite reserved. While Liang stopped at the desk to reserve a room for her and me, I followed Patterson up to her suite. She stopped at the door and turned toward me and Chuck, who followed behind me.
"You can stay out here with the FBI. There isn't any reason for you to be in here, and I don't wa
nt a Les in the same room with me." She spit out the last few words. Chuck looked like he was dying to say something but knew he couldn't without major consequences. What could they do to me? I had no rank, so I couldn't be demoted, and they had spent too much time and money to fire me. I smiled.
"I'm not part of your FBI detail. They're here to catch the wacko after he kills you. Not because they aren't competent, but because you won't let them do their job since it would inconvenience you. And because they are standard FBI, they can't leave. If you won't let me do my job, I can. So I don't stand in hotel hallways, and I can't be made to stand in the corner no matter how disgusting you may think I am." I needed all my recently acquired self-control to keep from laughing. Patterson's face turned several colors before settling on magenta, and spittle spurted from her lips. Chuck turned a choke into a cough.
"You deviant bitch. Who do you think you are—?"
"I'm ZAP Agent Kate Mathis operating under ATG9 protocol. Contrary to what you may believe, I don't care whether you are a good person or bad, rich or poor, gorgeous or ugly, nasty or pleasant. You're a client who I will risk my life to protect, but I can't protect you if I can't see or easily reach you. If that is too much of an inconvenience, then you don't need a ZAP agent. Your choice." I tried to produce a pleasant smile, but it was hard when I was having so much fun. I sobered. What I said was and would always be true. I wasn't protecting Patterson—in my opinion, she was a wacko—I was protecting a VIP client.
For a moment, she looked like she was going to slap me, until my smile widened. She whirled and stormed in, leaving the door open. Chuck stood there with his whole body shaking with suppressed laughter.
"I'll have a man patrolling the hallway. It's standard protocol," he said with a grin.
"Let him know Liang and I will be changing shifts at one a.m.," I said, entering the suite and closing the door. It wasn't fancy, but better than a standard room. I walked around the room, looking out the window to evaluate exposure, and into the bedroom. Patterson opened her mouth, but before she could speak, I held up my hand.
"I'll be watching from the chair in the other room. I'm checking the windows to determine how easy it would be for someone to target you from outside. If you don't pose in the window and close the drapes at night, it should be all right." I walked into the other room. There I turned the most comfortable chair to face the door and sat. Patterson closed the door, and I heard the television shortly afterward. Some time later, there was a knock at the door to the hallway.
"Kate, it's Chuck. We have Ms. Patterson's luggage."
I unlocked the door and stepped to the side as it opened. Chuck stood with a porter, I presumed, since he had a tie on. I waved him in. As he stepped across the threshold, my hand stopped him.
"Bags down, arms up," I said and ran my hands lightly over any loose clothing. And then I gave the luggage a quick inspection. Noticing that she had come out to see what the noise was about, I turned toward her. "Ms. Patterson, is there any extra luggage here that wasn't here before?"
She glared at me until I pointed to the bags. After a quick look she shook her head.
"You can put them wherever Ms. Patterson wants them," I said and followed him into the bedroom and back to the door. After he exited, Patterson and Chuck stood looking at me—actually, Patterson was glaring.
"Why?" Chuck asked. I thought it a good time to try and convince Patterson the FBI and ZAP agents weren't the same.
"We've been trained to be paranoid. If it's some wacko who wants to kill Ms. Patterson, chances are excellent you will catch him before he succeeds. If, however, someone has paid for a professional assassin, then there are lots of ways of sneaking past you. Dressed as a porter, he could acquire the luggage, gain access to Ms. Patterson's suite, and accompany her into her bedroom, kill her, and exit without notice. It would be hours before she would be missed. ZAP agents are only assigned when the threat is considered highly probable. In that case a professional assassin can't be ruled out," I said.
Chuck nodded understanding and left.
Patterson stood appraising me, a thoughtful frown on her face. Without a word she entered the bedroom and closed the door. A little while later, she came out in a blue calf-length skirt, a white V-neck blouse, blue low-heel shoes, and a plain gold necklace.
"Time for dinner," she said as she headed for the door. She didn't scowl or even glare. In the dining room, I asked the waiter for a table near the wall. Patterson remained quiet as she was seated. I moved to the wall. The two FBI agents remained in the lobby. Shortly afterward, she was joined by Simon and two others. When the waiter finished taking their order, he looked to me.
"Anything I can hold in one hand that isn't messy, and a glass of milk."
When he looked back to the people at the table, Simon nodded and continued with the discussion he and Patterson were having. Throughout the meal, Patterson kept glancing in my direction but said nothing to me. Before my ZAP training, like most people I’d had definite likes and dislikes, loved desserts, and alcohol. Those two years had changed me. Today food was just fuel to keep the body going, didn't need to be eaten sitting or at specific times, and required one hand free to access my Glock.
After the meal, Simon returned with Patterson to her suite and spent an hour discussing tomorrow's events and talking points from today's news items. On the way to the door, he stopped and looked at me.
"Is it difficult staying alert constantly? You never sit, and your eyes are continuously evaluating the people and the area."
"No, it's part of the ZAP training program and becomes natural after a while," I said.
He nodded. "Yes, the new elite bodyguards of Homeland Security. What do you think of the threat to Ms. Patterson?"
"No one has shown me the threats, so I'd be guessing."
"They were emails sent to her personal email account. Several said she deserved to die for her positions on gays and lesbians, abortions, and illegals. One threatened to kill her if she didn't quit the race. And one said she would pay for her sins."
"I'd be guessing."
"Please."
"The ones on her positions sound like the rants people make when you've upset them. I'm not sure what they think it will accomplish, but it makes them feel better. Threatening to kill her if she doesn't quit the race is probably a more aggressive rant. The person may plan to interrupt a speech, or paint graffiti on her bus, or something like that. I'd be more concerned about the last one. Religious threats should always be taken seriously."
"Religious?" Patterson interrupted.
"Yes, the use of the word sins. That sounds more personal. Like the others, that could merely be another rant, but it could be a commitment to punish you for some perceived wrong. The good news is that it doesn't sound like the kind of threat that would justify getting a professional assassin involved. They're expensive. Of course, you understand I must assume a professional could be involved. Besides, even amateurs can be inventive and dangerous. Look at Hinckley. Regan was surrounded by FBI, yet Hinckley managed to shoot him."
"True. But you're just one more person." Simon said.
"True, but unlike the FBI, I'm not concerned with Ms. Patterson's comfort or convenience or crowd control—only her safety."
"Interesting. Let's hope the threats are all just rants and Ms. Patterson can learn to tolerate you ZAP agents. There seem to be more and more Hinckleys running around lately. Goodnight, Arlene."
Simon was a very bright and subtle man. Rather than tell Patterson why she needed a ZAP agent in addition to her detail, he made it appear as if he was seeking to understand the difference. And the reference to Hinckley at the end was the coup de grâce. After checking the door, I settled into my chair and fell into a restful meditative state of awareness.
* * *
Liang and I quietly exchanged places at 1:00 a.m., and I went to the standard room she had rented. Not really tired, I made a cup of coffee and sat reviewing the day. It had been interesting … fun … an
d I had learned a lot. I understood my role better today. And I began to wonder about sharing assignments with other agents, length of assignments, and time off. The problem with twelve-hour shifts was where were you going to go with your twelve hours off? You couldn't party because you needed to be alert the next day. Even simple hookups would be difficult. By the time you found someone you wanted to sleep with and got to the hotel, you would have to be getting ready for your shift.
Better to get the directors to compensate you for not having to tie up a second agent. I thought Liang would consider giving a lone agent a month or so of leave after a couple of months on assignment alone. After all, on an assignment of three months, a lone agent would have saved the organization three months of another agent’s time. So, if they gave her a month off, they saved two, and in all probability they would have to give agents time off even for twelve-hour shifts because you were on assignment away from home. And with a month off, I could travel to someplace nice, like the Caribbean or the French Riviera, and have time to relax and party. I went to sleep knowing I had made the right choice two years ago.
* * *
"What did you do to her, Kate? We aren't puppies to be ordered around, but we're not allowed to beat them into submission," Liang quipped during our second bus ride.
"Searching the porter when he delivered her bags helped, but Simon gets most of the credit. He's a very shrewd man. When he was alone with her, he questioned me about being a ZAP agent, pulling out the pertinent information to emphasize the difference between her normal FBI detail and ZAP agents. My reference to Hinckley didn't hurt." I grinned and Liang gave a quiet chuckle.
"I'm impressed. I think you're going to do well. I might have been inclined to ignore her, which would have been awkward—for her. You've managed to finesse her. Have you had any thoughts about shifts?"
