King and Maxwell (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 6)

77

“I’M SORRY TO KEEP YOU waiting, Ms. Maxwell.”

President Cole looked harried and distracted as he entered the Oval Office.

“No problem, sir,” Michelle said, quickly rising to her feet.

“And Mr. King?”

“Not here. We split up. You just get me today.”

Cole nodded, but said nothing. He looked deeply preoccupied.

“Bad day, sir?” she said, trying to bring his thoughts back around to this meeting.

He started, turned to her, and attempted a smile. “You could say that. But in this job, it’s all relative. A really bad day is sending off brave young men and women to die for their country.”

“So I guess a garden-variety scandal isn’t so bad.”

“No, but it is distracting. And it gives my political enemies powder for their guns. Not that they seem to need any to fire away at me.”

“What can I do for you, sir? I know every minute of your day is planned out.”

“Well, I’m afraid that we’re going to have to make this meeting a mobile one.”

It was then that Michelle fully focused on the fact that Cole was wearing a tuxedo.

“Sir?”

“Formal event in Virginia tonight at Mount Vernon. I’m the keynote speaker. You up for a ride in the Beast?” He smiled. “My people will give you a lift back.”

“Yes, sir.”

As she walked out to the waiting motorcade she slipped her phone out, powered it up, and quickly thumbed in a group text to Sean and Edgar. She hit send, smiled, and put the phone back in her pocket.

A Secret Service agent she knew held open the limo door for her. The president always got in last. When his butt hit the seat the motorcade would leave. Michelle couldn’t hide her smile as she climbed inside and took the seat opposite the president, facing backward.

As soon as he climbed in the door thunked closed and all outside noise vanished. It would not reappear until the doors opened once more, because the phone-book-thick windows did not roll down. The motorcade started off.

The Beast looked like the Caddy DTS it was on the outside, but it was unique in all other respects. Three hundred thousand bucks allowed some interesting optional features. It weighed more than eight tons and was completely sealed in case someone tried to hit it with biochemical weapons. The fuel tank was foam-sealed. Even if it got struck, it wouldn’t explode. It had an oxygen supply and fire extinguishers in the

trunk along with a supply of the president’s blood type. Built into the front bumper were night-vision cameras and tear gas cannons. The vehicle’s shell was a combination of ceramic, titanium, and the old reliable steel. The tires had a Kevlar skin and were run-flat. The doors were as heavy as a large jet’s cabin portal because of their eight-inch armor plating. The windows’ first few layers were bulletproof to absorb a round while the inner layers were a special type of plastic that would catch any bullet like a fly in a web.

Two drawbacks were speed and fuel consumption. The Beast topped out at sixty miles an hour and got only eight miles to the gallon because of all the weight.

Michelle noted the driver and other agent in the front seat. She then gazed out the window, taking in the thirty-vehicle motorcade. Then she looked over the plush interior of the rear compartment.

Cole looked at her in slight amusement. “First time in the Beast?” he asked.

She nodded. “I left the Service before I could rotate to protection detail at the White House.”

“I remember my first time. I thought I was in a dream.”

“Must feel pretty old hat by now.”

“Not a chance. It’s an honor and a privilege and it’s pretty damn cool.” He settled back in his seat and gazed out the window. “I can never go anywhere on the sly. I’m not even allowed to drive on a public street.”

Michelle sat back, too. “Probably a good idea. You don’t want to have to talk your way out of a speeding ticket.”