And yet it seemed to me that they planned to get away with this. That was the one pattern of theirs that was consistent. I didn’t see how that could happen in the middle of Madison Square Garden—not if they chose to attack here.
The real Jack and Jill—the President and the First Lady of the United States—had arrived. On time.
CHAPTER
88
A DROP OF SWEAT slowly rolled off the tip of my nose.
A tractor-trailer was sitting on my chest.
The thunderous noise coming from inside the concrete-and-steel auditorium added to the escalating confusion and chaos. It was decibels beyond deafening once we were inside. Nearly ten thousand people had filled the auditorium by the time we arrived.
I moved toward the main auditorium stage with the rest of the security entourage. Secret Service agents, FBI, U.S. marshals, and New York police were posted everywhere around the President. I searched everywhere for Kevin Hawkins. Hopefully, at his side, Jill.
President Byrnes never let his smile or his step falter as he entered the auditorium. I remembered his words: “A threat by a couple of kooks can’t be permitted to disrupt the government of the United States. We can’t allow that to happen.”
It was warm in the building, but I was in a cold sweat—as cold as the winds blowing off the Hudson River. We were less than thirty yards from the massive stage that was filled with celebrities and well-known politicians, including both the governor and the city’s popular mayor.
Cameras flashed blinding light everywhere, from every imaginable angle. A whine of feedback lashed out from one of the stage microphones. I adjusted a five-pointed star on the left lapel of my suit jacket. The star was color-coded for the day. It identified me as part of the Secret Service team. The day’s color was green. For hope?
Jack and Jill had kept all their promises so far. They could have found a way to get weapons inside. There were at least a thousand handguns, but also rifles and shotguns inside the huge amphitheater. The police and other security guards had them.
Any one of them could be Jack or Jill.
Any one of them certainly could be Kevin Hawkins.
Don Hamerman was at my side, but it was too loud for us to talk in anything approaching normal tones. Occasionally, we leaned close and shouted into each other’s ear.
Even then, it was difficult to hear more than an isolated word or phrase.
“He’s taking too long to walk to the stage!” Hamerman said. I think that’s what he said.
“I know it. Tell me about it,” I shouted back.
“Watch the crowd movement,” he yelled at me. “They’ll stampede if they see a gun pulled. President’s spending too much time out in the crowd. Is he taunting the killers? What does he think that he has to prove?”
The chief of staff was right, of course. The President seemed to be daring Jack and Jill. Still, we might get lucky with the trap inside the crowded hall.
Suddenly, the crowd did start to stampede! The crowd began to part.
“Kill the son of a bitch! Kill him!” I heard the shouts a row or two ahead. I moved quickly, pushing, clawing my way forward in a hurry.
“Watch it, you bastard,” a woman turned and yelled in my face.
“Kill him now!” I heard up ahead.
“Let me through!” I shouted as loud as I could.
The man who was causing the scene up ahead had shoulder-length blond hair. He wore a baggy black parka with a black backpack attached.
I grabbed him at the same time as someone else from the other side of the aisle. We brought the blond man down hard and fast. His skull crunched against the cement floor.
“New York police!” the other guy holding the blond man yelled.
“D.C. police, White House detail,” I yelled back. I was already patting down the suspect. The New York cop had his gun in the suspect’s face.
I didn’t recognize the blond as Kevin Hawkins, but there was no way to tell for sure, and absolutely no way for us to take a chance on him. We had to take him down. There was no choice about that.