At the Pleasure of the President (The Perfect Gentlemen 5)

Thomas, who had been standing in the corner on his phone, joined the group. “I’ve just received confirmation that the caliber of bullet fragments CSI dug out of the tree is .308. That matches the caliber of the assassin’s weapon.”

“Bingo.” Connor looked happy. “I mean, we’ll have to run ballistics to make sure that bullet came from his weapon, but I like our odds. Plus, the police said they found a backpack and lots of fun sniper toys, so they think he’s been sticking close to the White House for a while.”

Just waiting for someone to call him and tell him to off the president of the United States.

“Likely so.” Thomas said. “It’s amazing that bullet went clean through Mike’s arm without blowing it off.”

Zack listened with half an ear. All this talk of bullets and violence and intent to kill. And god, he couldn’t stop thinking about Elizabeth, about forgiving her. She might have sent an assassin to ensure his death, and he was foolishly thinking about how he could possibly keep her. He was a masochist.

“Did the shooter have a cell phone?” When Connor nodded, Zack continued. “I want to know who he’s been talking to. I want that number.”

“You must know it was a burner phone, and I’m sure we’ll find out the call came from another burner. This guy falling out of the tree was a fluke. The truth is, these guys are never sloppy. But we can figure out roughly where the call originated from. So do I have authority to take over his questioning?” Connor’s whole body was tense as though he was already in work mode.

Zack nodded, almost feeling sorry for the bastard. “Go, and call when you have any information at all. I want to know who tipped him off.”

Connor nodded, clapped him on the shoulder, and left once again to do his country’s dirty work.

“Gus is going to kill me, you know.” Roman looked grim as he stared down at the monitors. “Dax and Gabe are in Elizabeth’s office searching it right now, finding out if she had anything incriminating stored there. They’ll do the same at her apartment when they’re through with her office. Are you going to wait for Connor or start interrogating now?”

“We can’t wait,” Zack said grimly. “Talk to her. Find out if she’s been trying to protect someone, if she was blackmailed into this.” Nothing else made sense. She loved him; Zack believed that. Or he wanted to. Then again, it was possible he’d been colossally fooled before.

Was he making a mistake in second-guessing her loyalty? But how could he not ask critical questions?

Zack hardened his resolve. He had a right to get to the bottom of her actions. Of her likely perfidy. There were simply too many coincidences for her to be anything but guilty.

“I’ll handle Liz,” Roman promised. “Be careful with Paul. We have no idea what he’s capable of.”

Was Roman doing his paranoid thing again or was he right?

“Actually, Freddy and I have some questions for Mr. Harding, too.” Mad stood in the doorway. “That is, if you don’t mind.”

“You’re supposed to be dead,” Roman reminded.

“After what happened today, I’m not going to hide while those bastards are taking shots at my friends.”

Zack shook his head. “We may need the element of surprise later.” And no one knew the case like Freddy. “Send your crazy friend with me.”

Mad shrugged. “If that’s what you want...” Then he glanced down at the monitors and winced when he saw Elizabeth. “Damn it, Zack. Seriously?”

Roman didn’t let him reply. “She was the only one who knew where we planned to jog this morning.”

“Hello, the Secret Service knew,” Mad pointed out. “We’re already aware of at least two agents in the past who were compromised. Who’s to say there aren’t more? Connor and Freddy still haven’t finished vetting everyone.”

“Out of an abundance of caution, we have to look into every possible suspect. There’s no way we can’t ask her.” Roman sighed as if he was not looking forward to this task. “I’m going to grab a stiff cup of coffee and get started. Be careful, Zack.”

Mad shook his head Zack’s way. “If you throw her in jail, there’s no coming back from this.”

“She’s not in jail.” Of course she wouldn’t be allowed to leave either. What would she do the second he unlocked the door? He had to look at all the evidence and make his best judgment call. What if she’d had a good reason for calling an assassin down on his head?

What the hell would constitute a good reason?

Misery swamped him. He wasn’t even angry anymore. In those first few moments when he’d realized she must be guilty, rage had thrummed through his veins. He’d wanted to walk right into her office, confront her…and he wasn’t sure what he would have done to her then.

His first impulse had faded as he’d been bodily hauled to safety, his movements restricted. In those moments, he hadn’t been Zack Hayes, an American citizen born with inalienable rights. He’d been the president, property of the American people. No amount of arguing would change the fact that he had no right to be simply a man in love. He’d wanted to go to her, force her to explain. And he hadn’t been allowed to.

That’s when his rage had morphed into sorrow. She’d just called an assassin to snuff him out, and he was still pathetically in love with her.

“Zack, go in there and talk to her. You could have died, so you totally have a right to your suspicions. But get her side of the story first.” Who would have guessed that Maddox Crawford would play angel to Roman’s obvious devil? That he would be the champion of true love? “Liz will understand. She’s a smart woman who gets the pressure you’ve been under.”

“I have to talk to Paul.” Zack didn’t trust himself to be alone with Elizabeth, even with cameras rolling. As far as he could see that interrogation ended one of two ways: either he hurt her more or fell right back into her trap. He turned to Roman. “Go. Find out why she’s done this.”

“Actually, Zack wants to know if she’s done this,” Mad cautioned. “Treat her like the friend she is. Or better yet, I’ll do it.”

Mad might be onto something. “Go with Roman and figure out what’s going on.”

Hopefully, they would balance one another.

“You got it.” Mad grinned.

Roman just sighed.

“And I’ll take Freddy with me. Do we know where he’s hiding?”

“I’m here,” a disembodied voice from above said.

Suddenly, Zack found himself right back under Thomas, and three Secret Service agents all trained their firearms at the ceiling.

“Don’t shoot him.” The phantom of the White House was at work again, and Zack vowed to add a new line in the budget for completely redoing all the ductwork in the White House to ensure no crazy people could use them to sneak around in the future. “He’s a friendly.”

Thomas let him up, still wearing his usual stoic expression. One of the other agents kept his gun trained as Freddy popped the vent and wiggled out.

“I can give you the name of a guy who will secure the whole system, Mr. President.” Freddy held up his hands to show he wasn’t carrying.

They frisked him anyway.

“Dare I ask why you aren’t in the very nice room I assigned you to?” Roman asked.

Freddy shrugged. “It was a cage, man. Been there, done that. Never again. Besides, the security guard down here watches TV at night and he’s doing a great binge of Star Trek: The Next Generation. I couldn’t miss that. If you could tell him to turn up the volume, though, that would be helpful.”

Zack made a mental note to have someone talk to the guard who apparently didn’t realize he was being spied on. He turned to Freddy. “What do you know about Paul Harding?”

A feral grin lit Freddy’s face. “Enough to suspect he’s been working for the Russians since he was a kid. I’ve really been looking at him the last few days, and I’m almost positive. Do I really get to question a suspect?”

“I’m in charge.” He needed to make that very clear.

Freddy gave him a jaunty salute. “I’m happy to play the perky sidekick.”

More like the insane sidekick. He turned to Mad and Roman. “Get me answers.”

Then Zack forced himself to turn away and focus on the job at hand. His father-in-law knew something and he was going to find out what.

* * * *

Zack stepped inside the utilitarian room and Paul Harding’s pale eyes shifted toward him. It was the first movement he’d seen from the man in the hour since he’d been brought in.

“Hello, Zachary. Might I ask why I was dragged from my home on such a nice day?” There was no deep indignation in his manner, merely curiosity.