Page 35 of The First Gentleman
CHAPTER 31
National Mall
L et Maddy and Burton have their stuffy little White House gym, Cole thinks.
He much prefers being out in the open air.
Beside him this morning on the National Mall is Secret Service agent Doug Lambert.
Slim, dark-haired, and nondescript, an agent right out of central casting, Lambert’s wearing sweats and running shoes, a Yankees baseball cap, and a loose black jacket that conceals a small arsenal and a compact communications system.
“Detail is ready, sir.”
“Hang on a minute,” says Cole.
“How’s your daughter settling in at Dartmouth?”
Lambert smiles.
“Doing great, sir. I want to thank you again for—”
Cole holds up a hand.
“I was happy to make the call. Carrie had the grades and everything else. Besides, I figure the trustees at Dartmouth still owe me something for my eleven-and-one season back in the day, don’t you think?”
Lambert smiles.
“Yes, sir. Thanks again, sir.”
“No problem, Doug.” Cole bends down to tighten his laces.
“But now I need a little favor from you.”
“I’ll do whatever I can, sir.”
“That evening run on the Mall the other night? Leanne was with me.”
“Right. I stayed in the vehicle.”
“We ran into some folks near the Tidal Basin.”
“Football fans. You signed some autographs.”
Cole pulls out his iPhone, selects a photo, and enlarges one section.
“I took this picture as we were leaving.”
Once, at a campaign stop in Iowa, a woman threw a cabbage at Cole.
It was Doug Lambert who’d knocked it down in midair.
Cole has had a special connection with him ever since.
He knows he can trust him.
“See this young woman, the one right there in the middle? I think she could be a threat.”
“A threat? To you, sir? Or to the president?”
“Maybe both. We need to identify her.”
“Let me get my laptop, sir, and I’ll start the process—”
“No,” says Cole.
“Nothing official. I don’t want to worry the president.”
“I can start with facial recognition and see if I get any hits.”
“Good,” says Cole.
He pats Lambert on the back.
“Start there. I’ll send the picture to your personal phone.” Then he starts pumping his legs on the path.
“Now let’s get going!”
“Yes, sir.” Lambert speaks into his collar mic.
“Sage on the way.”
Cole feels a sense of relief.
At least he’s put things in motion.
Better safe than sorry.
The woman in the photo could just be your everyday Capitol nut.
Or she could be the tip of a very dangerous iceberg.
Cole Wright is slipping into the zone, working up a healthy sweat; his muscles have warmed up and the endorphins are starting to kick in.
This is his happy place.
Always has been.
Agent Lambert sets a good pace.
They’re approaching the Tidal Basin.
No crowd today. Too early.
Suddenly, Cole hears a flurry of chatter from the agents behind him.
He turns his head and sees them talking into their shirtsleeves.
One of the agents catches up with Cole and taps his arm.
“Slow up a bit, please, sir.”
Cole reduces his pace.
“What’s the problem?”
Then he looks back down the path and sees another cluster of runners heading their way.
He hears his wife’s code name, Sierra.
He smiles.
Maddy is running in the middle of the pack, surrounded by her own detail.
A few seconds later, she’s right beside him.
“Hi, stranger. Do you own this park, or is anybody welcome?”
Cole grins at Maddy.
“Don’t worry. I know the lady who runs the place.”
Now the two details blend to form a protective cocoon around them both.
It reminds Cole of taking laps with the whole NFL team.
“I need a favor,” says Maddy.
“You spent all this hard-earned taxpayer money just to ask me for something?”
“You’re in a more receptive mood when you’re out in nature.”
“Wow,” says Cole.
“This must be one ugly ask.”
“Senator Balquière, Louisiana,” she says, her voice slightly lower.
“I think he’s ready to come over to our side.”
“Balquière? He’s a party leader for the opposition!”
“It’s taken some work,” says Maddy, “but he’s starting to think like an American, not a politician. Now he needs a sweetener, and that’s you.”
“How sweet?” asks Cole.
“And how far?”
“Baton Rouge,” says Maddy.
“Small high school. The senator’s grandson is on the football team and they’re having a god-awful season. One of your inspirational talks could make a difference.”
“How bad a season?”
“Eight losses. No wins. Dead last in the league.”
“Christ,” says Cole, shaking his head.
“I’ll need my A material.”
After another half a mile, Cole hears fresh chatter from the agents around them.
When he looks up at the path ahead, he sees the presidential limousine—the Beast—waiting between two armored Suburbans.
Agents in dark suits are spaced around the vehicles, scanning the area.
One has his hand on the open rear door of the limo.
“My ride’s here,” says Maddy.
“Want a lift?”
“I’m gonna do another couple miles,” says Cole.
“But thanks for the offer.”
Maddy slows down as they get closer to the curb.
She grabs Cole’s sleeve and pulls him to a stop.
“Cole, your visit could help break the last logjam. Getting an old warhorse like Balquière on board is a huge step toward saving this country and making history.”
Cole sees a few reporters from the press pool waiting near a van behind the Suburbans.
They edge forward as Maddy and Cole get close.
Maddy gives them a wave and a smile.
“No remarks, guys. Just a friendly run with my husband.”
Cole hugs her around the waist and quickly kisses her on the lips.
He hears the cameras snapping.
Maddy slides into the car, shielded by three Secret Service agents.
She looks straight at Cole and mouths Thank you.
Just before the eighty-pound door slams shut, he waves.
As the small caravan pulls away with the press van behind them, Cole nods at Lambert.
“Let’s go, Doug.” All around him, Cole hears the agents chatter: “Sage on the move.”
Maddy made special arrangements to visit him on his run.
His usual response to her requests for these small-time pep talks is “I was a player, not a coach.” But he knows how important this next week is for her.
For the whole damn country.