Cut and Thrust

by Stuart Woods

  “I’m afraid it’s just not secure.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand how a seating plan in a theater box could be insecure because of the seating plan,” Stone said, “and I’m sure Mrs. Lee will feel the same way.”

  “Then I’ll take it up with her,” Beam said.

  “I wouldn’t advise that. It looks as though your relationship with Mrs. Lee may very well continue until at least the first Tuesday in November, and perhaps for another four years beyond that, perhaps even eight. This would not be a good time for her to begin to view your command of her detail in an unfavorable light.”

  Beam was silent for a long moment. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you. The seating plan will be as Mrs. Lee wishes.”

  “Thank you, Agent Beam, and good evening.” Stone hung up.

  “What was that all about?” Ann asked, motioning Stone to zip up the back of her dress.

  “Agent Beam,” Stone replied. “He’s upset that Kate changed the seating arrangements in our box. He thinks the new plan is insecure.”

  “I don’t understand,” Ann said.

  “Neither do I, and neither, I think, does Agent Beam.”

  “He’s a peculiar man,” Ann said, “somehow different from the other agents, who are always so helpful. Beam always wants things done his way.”

  “He has a big responsibility, I suppose, but he could handle it better. Do you have any say in Kate’s dealings with Beam’s office?”

  “Only as a bearer of messages.”

  “Why don’t you ask Kate to speak to the chief of the Secret Service and request that Beam be replaced?”

  “I don’t think she would do that,” Ann said. “She tries hard not to be pushy when dealing with the Service.”

  “Who else would be able to get a change made?”

  “Well, the president, of course, but I don’t think it’s my place to speak to him about it.”

  Stone nodded and tied his black bow tie.

  “You do that very smoothly,” Ann said.

  “I saw a movie once in which Cary Grant tied his bow tie that way and I practiced for hours until I got it right.”

  Ann collapsed in laughter.

  —

  THEY WENT DOWNSTAIRS and joined the Eagles and the Bacchettis for a drink while they waited for the president and first lady to join them for the ride to the amphitheater in an articulated electric tram.

  When Stone got a chance, he pulled Dino aside. “You’re acquainted with Special Agent Beam, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, we’ve met. And he’s always hanging around, watching his agents.”

  “You remember the threat that Beam received in an e-mail?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I spoke with an expert about this and he said that the e-mail almost certainly originated inside the L.A. Secret Service office.”

  “And what did you make of that?” Dino asked.

  “Nothing, until a few minutes ago. I had a strange phone call from Beam about tonight’s seating plan.” He told Dino about the conversation.

  “You think Beam thinks there might be a move against Kate tonight?”

  “I don’t know, but he was pretty upset about his seating plan being changed to Kate’s seating plan.”

  “Do you want to mention it to somebody?”

  “Who would I mention it to? Beam? We’ve already talked. And he’s in charge of the detail, after all.”

  “I see your point.”

  “Are you armed?” Stone asked.

  “Always,” Dino replied. “You?”

  “No.”

  “Why don’t you run upstairs and take care of that?”

  “I’ll be right back.” Stone ran lightly up the stairs, went into the master suite, opened the safe, and took out his little Colt Government .380. He slipped it into the lightweight shoulder holster, shoved a magazine into the pistol, racked the slide and set the safety, then tucked the weapon under his arm.

  When he got back to the library, the president and first lady had arrived, and they were called to board the tram for the trip to the amphitheater.

  They moved out. Four Secret Service agents trotted alongside the tram, and Special Agent Mervin Beam brought up the rear in a golf cart.

  The tram arrived at the rear of the amphitheater and everyone got off and walked through a door directly into Stone’s box. It was at the very rear of the theater, and this tier was the only one with a roof, but it was open to the amphitheater.

  Beam held the door open for them and they filed into the box and found their seats, which had been labeled with their names. Stone was the last through the door and he noticed that even though it was a cool desert evening, Agent Beam was sweating heavily. As Stone stepped into the box, Beam followed him and closed the door behind him. Stone heard a lock being turned and as he glanced back he saw Beam slip a key into his jacket pocket. The front of the man’s shirt was now showing big sweat stains as the shirt stuck to his body.

  As he took his seat, Ann pulled a stole around her shoulders. “Chilly, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “It is,” Stone said, and he looked back at Beam again. The agent was standing, leaning against the door, sweat pouring down his face. He unbuttoned his jacket as if to make his weapon more accessible.

  Stone got up and walked down to where Dino was sitting. “Got a minute?” he asked. Dino got up and followed him to the side of the box. “What’s up?”

  “Something’s wrong,” Stone said. “Keep looking at the theater while we talk. Agent Beam is extremely nervous and is sweating heavily. Also, he’s the only agent in the box with us—we’ve always had at least two in the room—and he locked the door behind him and put the key into his coat pocket. That doesn’t seem to me like someone who is protecting us from an attack.”

  “No,” Dino said, “it sounds more like someone who is a threat. What do you want to do?”

  Stone told him. “Let’s wait until the program starts.” They returned to their seats as the Los Angeles Philharmonic began to play an overture as the last stragglers got to their seats.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” a voice boomed, “Miss Hattie Patrick and the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra.” There was loud applause as Hattie walked to the piano at the center of the stage. She sat down, the conductor raised his baton, cued the first clarinetist, who began a trill, then executed the glissando that began Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue. She had performed it once before in this venue.

  Stone leaned back and looked at the back of Dino’s head down the row. Dino leaned back, saw him, and nodded. They both got up and went to their respective sides of the box, then walked to the rear and approached Beam from each side. Stone smiled as he neared the man. “I have to leave the box,” he said.

  Beam looked alarmed and his hand slid under his jacket. Stone grabbed the man’s wrist and kept him from producing the weapon while Dino drew his pistol and held it under Beam’s chin. “Be very quiet,” Dino whispered into his ear.

  Stone separated the man’s hand from his weapon and withdrew it himself. To his surprise, he found it had six inches of silencer screwed into the barrel. “Be very still,” he whispered to Beam as he felt in his coat pocket for the key to the door. He found it, then spun Beam around and used the man’s own handcuffs to secure his hands behind his back.

  “Keep him here for a moment until I speak to the agents outside.” Dino nodded. Stone unlocked the door, let himself out, and looked around. No agents in sight. Where were the four who had accompanied the tram here? He got out his cell phone and called Mike Freeman.

  “Freeman.”

  “Mike, it’s Stone. We’ve got a situation at the presidential box. Do you see any Secret Service?”

  “Yes, there are four of them standing right here. I’m twenty yards from the box.”

  “Please bring them her
e now. And find out who is the senior agent.”

  “On the way.”

  Mike appeared with a man beside him, followed by two other men and one woman. “This is Special Agent Foster,” Mike said. Stone shook the man’s hand, held on to it and leaned in close. “Your boss, Agent Beam, is alone in the box with no other agents and behaving like a threat.” Stone handed him Beam’s silenced pistol. “I took this from him.”

  The agent looked at the pistol and his eyebrows shot up. “That is a non-standard weapon,” he said.

  “The NYPD chief of detectives is just inside the door. Beam is handcuffed with his own cuffs. I’ll bring him out, and you should take him away quietly and leave two agents inside the box. We don’t know if this is only a one-man threat.” The agent nodded. Stone opened the door and motioned Dino outside. Agent Foster was speaking with his fellow agents. Two of them took away Beam, who was now in tears, and Foster and the female agent followed Stone and Dino into the box and stood by the door as they took their seats again.

  Hattie was halfway through Rhapsody in Blue, and Stone tried to enjoy it as his eyes raked the audience for further threats.

  Hattie finished her performance, then Immi Gotham took the stage and sang her way through a repertoire of Gershwin, Rodgers and Hart, Jerome Kern, and Irving Berlin. The audience was transported—and Stone would have been, too, but he was still in his most watchful mode. However, by the concert’s rousing finish, no threat had appeared.

  Everyone rose in a standing ovation, and Hattie, Immi, and the conductor took their bows. Stone’s guests in the box had begun making their way toward the outside door and the waiting tram when the president fell in beside him.

  “What was all that about with Agent Beam?” he asked.

  “You’ll be getting a new agent in charge of your detail,” Stone replied. “It appears that the threat Beam warned us about emanated directly from Beam himself. He’s in custody now, and I’m sure the detail is being reorganized as we speak.”

  “Nothing like this has happened during my two terms of office,” Will said.

  “And I expect nothing like it will happen again,” Stone said.

  “Do you think Beam has collaborators?”

  “I’m sure that will be thoroughly investigated, but my own opinion is that he does not. His behavior was very much that of a lone wolf, and deranged people don’t easily attract collaborators.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Will said.

  They got into the tram, and Mike Freeman appeared and took a seat next to Stone. “We’re holding Beam at our operations center,” Mike said. “Other agents from the L.A. Secret Service office are on their way to take charge of him, and the rest of the detail is in place.”

  “The president asked if Beam had collaborators,” Stone said.

  “I think not,” Mike replied.

  The tram returned to Stone’s house without incident. He and his guests went into the house for drinks and a late supper, which was laid out as a buffet in the dining room. Martin Stanton, Mark Willingham, Pete Otero, and Dick Collins, and their respective wives, joined them, though Willingham had only a drink, then excused himself.

  Ed Eagle introduced Stone to Otero, and Stone found him good company. His wife, Eagle told Stone, was half Navajo. During dinner, Stone managed a seat next to Governor Dick Collins. “Yours has been quite a performance,” Stone said to him.

  “I’ve no idea what you’re referring to,” Collins replied with a smile.

  “Nevertheless, everybody was impressed with what I’m referring to. Tomorrow night might have gotten rough after the first ballot.”

  “Well, I’m sure we’ll have a good evening of balloting tomorrow night,” Collins said, then changed the subject.

  Mike Freeman found Stone alone a few minutes later. “The Secret Service has taken Mervin Beam to a hospital for a psych evaluation,” he said.

  “Will he be charged with anything?” Stone asked.

  “Well, he didn’t do anything chargeable, did he?” Mike said. “You and Dino saw to that. My guess is, he’ll undergo treatment for quite some time—if he can be persuaded to commit himself. My people at our operations center said he was babbling about attacks on the Constitution and fighting for liberty, making no sense at all.”

  “I’d love to read the psychiatric report on him when this is all over,” Stone said. “It’s scary that someone who was responsible for the lives of the president and first lady could degenerate like that without someone noticing.”

  “You noticed,” Mike said.

  —

  ANN GOT AWAY from the Oteros and joined them. “I’m going to want to hear all about what happened tonight,” she said.

  “I will fill you in later,” Stone replied.

  “What were you and Dick Collins talking about?”

  “About nothing that he would admit to,” Stone said.

  Manolo came and got Ann and took her from the room. A minute later, she returned in the company of the female Secret Service agent who had accompanied Kate from New York on the Strategic Services jet. “Gentlemen,” she said, “you met Christy Thomas on the way out here. Christy has been appointed by the director of the Secret Service to head up the presidential detail.”

  Everyone shook hands with her. She was about forty, Stone thought, fit-looking, fairly short brown hair, dressed in a business suit. She was a big improvement on Mervin Beam, he decided. After a little polite conversation, she stationed herself near the door, her eyes sweeping the room.

  “That’s a relief,” Stone said to Ann.

  “Yes, indeed. I’ve had a chance to talk with her a few times since we arrived and she’s very smart. She’ll make a nice change for us.”

  “What’s on your plate for tomorrow?” Stone asked.

  “Tomorrow will be surprisingly relaxed,” Ann said. “Kate will be lying low, not speaking to a lot of people.”

  “Perhaps she would enjoy touring Centurion Studios,” Stone said. “Peter would like to have us to lunch in his bungalow.”

  “I’ll speak to her about it,” Ann said, and left to do that. She returned a couple of minutes later. “She and the president would both like to come,” she said. “I’d better go alert Christy Thomas. She’ll have some organizing to do.”

  Stone took his cell phone from his pocket. “And I’d better alert Peter, and he’d better alert Leo Goldman,” he said.

  Stone had breakfast on the patio with Ed Eagle and Susannah Wilde.

  “Stone,” Ed said, “what are you expecting to happen with the balloting tonight at the convention?”

  “Sam Meriwether, who’s the expert on counting heads, thinks Kate will get the most votes on the first ballot, and maybe get another fifteen or twenty of the California delegates, but that won’t give her the nomination. In that case, it will go to a second ballot, and the delegates will be free. I think they believe they can win then.”

  “Is there any expectation that either Willingham or Otero will throw his delegates to Kate?”

  “I haven’t heard that voiced, but if either did, that would get her the nomination. Frankly, I can’t see Willingham doing that. Maybe Otero would, though.”

  “Tell them not to count on Otero doing that,” Eagle said.

  Stone looked at him sharply. “Have you heard something?”

  “I have, but I can’t say what it is. I’m a member of the New Mexico delegation and we’ve all promised not to talk about our business with anyone else.”

  “Ed, do you think Otero thinks that on a second ballot he might get enough delegates for him to win the nomination?”

  “I can’t tell you. But remember, the convention rules state that after a second ballot of freed delegates, if no candidate has a majority, then the top two candidates will be in a runoff.”

  “I hadn’t been thinking that far ahead,” Stone sai
d. “Anything else you can tell me?”

  “No, but I can make suppositions.”

  “Then what do you suppose?”

  “Suppose that Otero and Willingham reach an accommodation.”

  “What kind of accommodation?”

  “Suppose they combine their delegates behind one of the candidates and the other gets chosen as his running mate?”

  Stone did some quick arithmetic. “Then that candidate would have a chance of getting the nomination on the second ballot,” Stone said, “if he could pick up enough of the undecideds from California and the other states.”

  Ed shrugged. “Let’s just say that I don’t think you’re the only one who’s thinking that way.”

  Stone didn’t have to think that over.

  Eagle changed the subject. “What are you doing with your day?” he asked.

  “I’m taking Kate and the president out to Centurion Studios for a tour, and Peter’s giving us all lunch.”

  “Peter has an excellent chef,” Susannah said.

  “Have you and Peter made a deal, Susannah?”

  “We have. Contracts should be ready for signature in a day or two.”

  “Then I’ll try not to run into Charlene Joiner while we’re at the studio.”

  “I’d go armed if I were you,” Susannah said.

  They finished breakfast and rose to go their separate ways.

  “Stone,” Eagle said, “one thing I can tell you without violating a confidence: Pete Otero won’t take the second spot on the ticket.”

  “How recently did you hear that?” Stone asked.

  “About two hours ago, in a phone call.”

  —

  WHEN STONE GOT back to the house, he ran into Ann, who was going into the library. “I have a meeting with Sam Meriwether,” she said, “but we’ll be ready to leave for Centurion at noon.”

  “Ann,” Stone said, “would you mind if I have a word with you and Sam right now?”