Absolute Treason (A Jake Mercer Political Thriller—Book 5) E-Book

Jack Mars

• Herausgeber: Lukeman Literary Management
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Serie: A Jake Mercer Political Thriller
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 264

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

"Thriller writing at its best." --Midwest Book Review (Any Means Necessary) ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ From the #1 bestselling and USA Today bestselling author Jack Mars (with over 10,000 five-star reviews) comes a groundbreaking new political thriller series: when the President of the United States or his family are threatened, it is up to Jake Mercer, former Marine sniper turned Secret Service agent, to protect them from dangers—both foreign and domestic. When the President visits Russia for a summit, his life is in danger, and Secret Service Agent Jake Mercer finds himself pitted against a rogue ex-KGB officer. Can he outsmart his cunning adversary before the ultimate checkmate? "Thriller enthusiasts who relish the precise execution of an international thriller, but who seek the psychological depth and believability of a protagonist who simultaneously fields professional and personal life challenges, will find this a gripping story that's hard to put down." --Midwest Book Review, Diane Donovan (regarding Any Means Necessary) ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ "One of the best thrillers I have read this year. The plot is intelligent and will keep you hooked from the beginning. The author did a superb job creating a set of characters who are fully developed and very much enjoyable. I can hardly wait for the sequel." --Books and Movie Reviews, Roberto Mattos (re Any Means Necessary) ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ This is the fifth book in a new series by #1 bestselling and critically acclaimed author Jack Mars, whose books have received over 10,000 five-star reviews and ratings. A gripping and unpredictable political thriller, the series is a page-turning action series that will leave you unable to put it down. This fresh and exciting action hero will have you turning pages late into the night, and fans of Brad Taylor, Vince Flynn, and Tom Clancy are sure to fall in love. Future books in the series are also available!

Leseprobe

A B S O L U T E

T R E A S O N

(A JAKE MERCER POLITICAL THRILLER—BOOK 5)

J A C K   M A R S

Jack Mars

Jack Mars is the USA Today bestselling author of the LUKE STONE thriller series, which includes seven books. He is also the author of the new FORGING OF LUKE STONE prequel series, comprising six books; of the AGENT ZERO spy thriller series, comprising twelve books; of the TROY STARK thriller series, comprising eight books; of the SPY GAME thriller series, comprising ten books; of the JAKE MERCER thriller series, comprising seven books (and counting); of the TYLER WOLF thriller series, comprising seven books (and counting); and of the new LARA KING thriller series, comprising seven books (and counting).

Jack loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.Jackmarsauthor.com to join the email list, receive a free book, receive free giveaways, connect on Facebook and Twitter, and stay in touch!

BOOKS BY JACK MARS

LARA KING THRILLER SERIES

ASSET ONE (Book #1)

ASSET TWO (Book #2)

ASSET THREE (Book #3)

ASSET FOUR (Book #4)

ASSET FIVE (Book #5)

ASSET SIX (Book #6)

ASSET SEVEN (Book #7)

TYLER WOLF THRILLER SERIES

DOUBLE AGENT (Book #1)

DOUBLE CROSS (Book #2)

DOUBLE ASSET (Book #3)

DOUBLE DOCTRINE (Book #4)

DOUBLE JEOPARDY (Book #5)

DOUBLE THREAT (Book #6)

DOUBLE TARGET (Book #7)

JAKE MERCER THRILLER SERIES

ABSOLUTE THREAT (Book #1)

ABSOLUTE DAMAGE (Book #2)

ABSOLUTE FORCE (Book #3)

ABSOLUTE PERIL (Book #4)

ABSOLUTE TREASON (Book #5)

ABSOLUTE VENGEANCE (Book #6)

ABSOLUTE TARGET (Book #7)

THE SPY GAME

TARGET ONE (Book #1)

TARGET TWO (Book #2)

TARGET THREE (Book #3)

TARGET FOUR (Book #4)

TARGET FIVE (Book #5)

TARGET SIX (Book #6)

TARGET SEVEN (Book #7)

TARGET EIGHT (Book #8)

TARGET NINE (Book #9)

TARGET TEN (Book #10)

TROY STARK THRILLER SERIES

ROGUE FORCE (Book #1)

ROGUE COMMAND (Book #2)

ROGUE TARGET (Book #3)

ROGUE MISSION (Book #4)

ROGUE SHOT (Book #5)

ROGUE STRIKE (Book #6)

ROGUE ORDER (Book #7)

ROGUE ATTACK (Book #8)

LUKE STONE THRILLER SERIES

ANY MEANS NECESSARY (Book #1)

OATH OF OFFICE (Book #2)

SITUATION ROOM (Book #3)

OPPOSE ANY FOE (Book #4)

PRESIDENT ELECT (Book #5)

OUR SACRED HONOR (Book #6)

HOUSE DIVIDED (Book #7)

FORGING OF LUKE STONE PREQUEL SERIES

PRIMARY TARGET (Book #1)

PRIMARY COMMAND (Book #2)

PRIMARY THREAT (Book #3)

PRIMARY GLORY (Book #4)

PRIMARY VALOR (Book #5)

PRIMARY DUTY (Book #6)

AN AGENT ZERO SPY THRILLER SERIES

AGENT ZERO (Book #1)

TARGET ZERO (Book #2)

HUNTING ZERO (Book #3)

TRAPPING ZERO (Book #4)

FILE ZERO (Book #5)

RECALL ZERO (Book #6)

ASSASSIN ZERO (Book #7)

DECOY ZERO (Book #8)

CHASING ZERO (Book #9)

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

PROLOGUE

“Your move, agent.”

Nikolai considered the board for a moment. Or rather, he looked at the board and appeared to be considering it. This game was irrelevant, and in any case, he would win in three moves.

He moved his pawn forward one space. There were chuckles from the spectators. A few of them actually knew why they were laughing, which meant they had the same basic understanding of chess that his opponent did. The others laughed because they saw others laugh and didn’t want to appear foolish.

His opponent laughed and took Nikolai’s queen with his bishop. “Your mind has slowed down, agent,” he said, loudly enough that those gathered around the table could hear. “Old age has caught up with you.”

Nikolai was fifty-eight years old, seven years older than his opponent. He was no longer an agent and hadn’t been for over thirty years. No one had been a KGB agent for over thirty years. His opponent’s use of the title was a clumsy way to insult him and rather embarrassing for a man who was on the cover of this month’s Moscow Monthly

Nikolai castled, a move his opponent had anticipated. The laughter around the table increased, and Nikolai’s opponent chuckled again. “Perhaps you want to simply resign now and save yourself the embarrassment.”

Nikolai didn't reply. The next move, his opponent would take his last remaining bishop with his own bishop. Assuming Nikolai didn't make the move he intended, this would leave his opponent two moves from checkmate. But when Nikolai moved his knight to the unoccupied space, it would checkmate his opponent, whose meager knowledge of offense was even greater than his appalling lack of defense.

If only Nikolai’s true opponent was as foolish as the one who sat in front of him now.

The real problem in front of him was concerning, not because it was particularly difficult to work out a solution but because that solution required many things to go right and could suffer only a very few to go wrong. Nikolai did not like such situations. He preferred to have many avenues of success and many avenues of escape should success become impossible.

His opponent shook his head and took the bishop. “You lose in two, agent. Really, I thought a mind like yours would present a greater challenge, even addled with age. I’m sorry to see you’ve fallen so far.”

Escape was not so important this time. He always planned to die for his country. He would sacrifice himself to save the fatherland if he needed to.

The problem was how to achieve success. How to put his opponent in checkmate and not simply check. This time, Nikolai thought he had it. It had taken most of his life, but he had worked out every detail, anticipated every move, learned everything about the game, the pieces and the opponent to know how they would react to every decision he made.

This time, he would succeed.

He moved his knight. “Checkmate.”

The spectators fell silent. His opponent stared in shock. A moment later, Nikolai knew, he would overturn the board in frustration and loudly accuse Nikolai of cheating, a claim he could not prove and wouldn’t dare to try even if he could.

Normally, Nikolai would endure such outbursts, but today, he had real work to do. He stood and patted his opponent’s shoulder. “Good game, my friend.”

The clattering of the overturned pieces sang in his ears as he left the bar. His opponent screamed and shouted and allowed two of the spectators to hold him back, a childish tantrum but one that insecure men always threw.

He didn’t look back as he left. This was only a diversion. The real game had begun.

And like this game, it would end leaving his opponent nowhere to go.

CHAPTER ONE

"What an excellent idea," Senior Special Agent Jake Mercer of the Secret Service grumbled as he scanned the growing crowd on the White House South Lawn. "What better way to celebrate the State of the Union than allowing thousands of strangers onto the front lawn of the damned White House?"

The President had decided to make this year’s State of the Union Address special by inviting people to observe it live on the South Lawn. Not just the press, although the press got to stand closest behind a cordon of Secret Service agents and in front of a line of hand-picked bodyguards.

No, he was allowing just anyone to show up. It was limited to first come, first serve, but that still meant that thousands of people were crammed onto the lawn. Who knows how many of them were carrying weapons?

“At least it’s not in the Mall this time,” his partner, Special Agent Jess Foster said.

“That’s not helpful.”

Last year, the President had given a Memorial Day speech at the Lincoln Memorial in front of a larger but similarly packed crowd. That year, terrorists had set off a bomb that killed six civilians, and, if not for Jake’s timely intervention, would have killed the President.

And here they were, doing the same damned thing all over again.

“Sure it is. This is a smaller space. Fewer places to watch.”

“There’s buildings with perfect angles for snipers, a much clearer and easier path to the President, and a much higher body count if something does happen.”

"And there's a National Guard contingent, Army helicopter patrols, Marine counter snipers, two bomb squads, and an honest-to-God tank here protecting him."

“It’s a Bradley fighting vehicle, not a tank. And there’s no ammunition in it. It’s here for show.”

Jess sighed. “Well, I guess we should just shoot him ourselves since it’s so hopeless.”

“Dammit, Jess! Don’t say that on an official channel, even as a joke.”

“All right, God! Relax, Jake. It’s going to be okay.”

“I really hate those words.”

“Come on. Bard hasn’t tried anything in six months. Do you really think he’s going to make his way back onto the scene by attacking the most obvious target at the most obvious time in the most obvious place? Give him credit for some intelligence.”

Jake rubbed his temples. “You’re giving me a migraine, Jess.”

“You’re giving yourself a migraine. I’ll tell you what. If the President is assassinated today, then dinner’s on me. If he isn’t, then it’s on you.”

“Will you…” he sighed. “Forget it. How are we looking?”

“Good enough that I don’t mind teasing you so shamelessly. We have counter snipers in position at every single building that can see even a corner of the South Lawn. I called your buddy Max and had him recommend me the angriest, most ooh rah jarheads he knew to fill the role. They’re literally praying for someone to try something so they get a chance to use their rifles again.”

“Okay,” he said drily. “Thank you. What about air cover?”

“Are you being ironic, or do you not hear the rotors of the Apache gunship flying overhead? I’m told they’re carrying live ammo.”

“They aren’t. They’re not going to fire thirty-millimeter rounds into a crowd of civilians. I mean the police helicopters that can monitor the situation.”

She sighed. “You’re no fun when you’re nervous. Yes, Capitol Police helicopters are on patrol. I’m talking to one of them right now. He says he can see your bald spot growing as we speak.”

“Wonderful. And the National Guard?”

“Just as trigger happy as the Marines and stationed at the entrance to the lawn and behind and to either side of the podium. And before you ask, I have a dozen plainclothes agents moving through the crowd reporting everyone who isn’t prostrate in front of His Holiness the President. We’re good, Jake. We've had enough problems. Don't anticipate anymore."

“It’s my job to anticipate them.”

“Well, don’t anticipate the worst.”

“It’s my job to antici—”

“Then shut the hell up and let me be happy! God, did Sheila forget to hug you this morning or something?”

Sheila Jackson was Jake’s girlfriend. She had moved in with him three months ago. She was also the President’s daughter and was currently with her father waiting to walk out with him next to her mother, First Lady Carrie Jackson and the woman who hated Jake more than anything on Earth.

That wasn’t fair. She didn’t hate him anymore. She just didn’t think that Jake’s and Sheila’s relationship was appropriate. Technically she was right, since it represented a conflict of interest, but Jake had managed to do his job and avoid that conflict of interest.

“Jake? This is Dawson. We’re ready to move in five minutes.”

“Roger that, Dawson. We are green out here.”

“Understood.”

Special Agent Dawson was the head of the President’s personal security detail, the four agents who were glued to his side at all times. Jake was the Chief of Security and Dawson’s supervisor.

He was also tasked with finding and stopping Eli Bard, a former Secret Service agent turned domestic terrorist turned international terrorist who had come closer to accomplishing his stated goal of overthrowing the U.S. government and killing the President more times than Jake liked.

His last attempt had been his least violent but most nearly successful. He had convinced two other Secret Service veterans to betray their country to earn the money they needed to pay for their loved ones’ medical care. If those agents had trusted Bard, then the President would be dead already. Fortunately, they knew that Bard was deceptive and concocted a plan to instead kidnap the President and blackmail Bard into keeping his promise.

Their plan was to commandeer Air Force One, something that should have been so impossible as to be laughable. But they had done it with the help of three other terrorists. Jake had succeeded in stopping the traitors and then been forced to fly the stricken jet and land it on Midway Atoll. It was an experience that had earned him celebrity status and the Presidential Medal of Freedom and one he hoped to never experience again.

So, of course, Jess decided to remind him of it. “Hey, do you think they’ll let you fly the new jet?”

“No, and I don’t want to.”

“You don’t want to see all the cool new features? I hear it has a bunch of tv screens instead of instruments. Like an infotainment center in a car. You can basically type in commands and let the plane fly itself.”

“Maybe you should fly it.”

“Hey, you’re the experienced pilot here, not me.”

“Focus, Jess. One minute to walkout.”

To her credit, Jess knew when to turn it off. She switched to a purely professional tone and said, “Roger. Plainclothes agents report all normal. Police air surveillance is active, National Guard is in position, and my cameras are all green. We are a go.”

“All right. Dawson, we’re ready when you are.”

“Thirty seconds, sir.”

Jake scanned the crowd one final time. He could pick out the plainclothes agents fairly easily, but that was okay. He had been with the Service for eleven years, so he was trained to spot people like that. The civilians wouldn’t have a clue. And if there were any terrorists among them, they wouldn’t either.

He noticed nothing out of the ordinary, and managed to relax as the President made his way to the stage flanked by Dawson and three other agents.

Relax slightly, anyway.

The crowd first cheered, then came to a hush when the President took the stand. He looked out over the crowd, his chest swelled with pride, a soft smile on his lips.

"Friends," he said, "To say it's an honor to be able to share this moment with you would be an understatement. So, I'll just say that I'm humbled and thankful to have a chance to share my thoughts on the direction of the United States.

“Over the past fifteen months, this nation has endured the worst crises to face our nation since the attacks of September eleventh, 2001. We have seen the worst that humanity has to show. And we have seen the best. Thanks to the efforts of brave citizens in the Secret Service, the United States’ Armed Forces, the FBI, Capitol Police, Washington Police, and thanks to brave agents of our allies’ police and armed forces, we have shown time and again that no terrorist organization on Earth will ever stand in the way of democracy.”

The speech continued in the same vein, and Jake couldn’t stifle a smile. As Presidents went, Bryan Jackson was one of the better ones, but Jake had spent enough time around politicians to know that even the good ones rarely got anything useful done. It was all a chess game that was focused more on maintaining the status quo than enacting any kind of meaningful change, and the President, like the king in chess, was very limited in his power. Which was probably a good thing. Kings tended to be rather damaging to the countries they ruled.

They managed to make it six minutes into the address before a problem surfaced. “Jake,” Jess’s voice said, tension replacing her earlier jovial tone. “Ten feet from the left cordon about twenty yards deep into the crowd, seventy from the President.”

Jake’s eyes immediately flew to the area in question. He picked up on a very nervous looking man in his late twenties fidgeting with a backpack and glancing anxiously at its contents. One of the other attendees glanced his way, and he quickly zipped the pack up and began moving closer to the President.

“Carter, Teller, block his way and hold him for me.”

Jake quickly moved through the crowd. Two of the plainclothes agents stopped the man and began talking to him. The young man grinned nervously but made no attempt to push past the agents.

Jake reached him a minute later. He put a hand on the man's back, and the spectator jumped. Jake kept a smile on his face, but his eyes were hard. He leaned in and flashed his badge. "Don't move and don't cause a scene. We're going to check your backpack."

“Oh,” the man said. “All right. That’s fine. Are you Secret Service?”

“Yep.”

Jake unzipped the backpack, and the young man said, “Sorry. I ran this through the bag check at the front, but I forgot I still had my bottle opener in there. That’s probably what they detected.”

“We’ll see.”

Jake reached into the pack and pulled out a spiral-bound notebook with about fifty pages.

“Um, those are just letters.”

“Mmhmm,” Jake said, handing the notebook to Teller, who began flipping through the pages.

Jake reached in again and pulled out a souvenir, a picture of the White House engraved on a shot glass. They sold the trinkets for $5.79 in the White House gift shop.

He pulled out another souvenir, this one a coaster with an image of the American flag under enamel.

There was a small booklet of famous quotes from each President. Bryan’s would be either “Never fear the dark, for it will always retreat when faced with light” or “The only thing more powerful than the resolve of the American people is the justice of the American cause.”

There were three postcards, a small geode from the Smithsonian gift shop, and a picture of the young man as a much younger child taking a picture with George W. Bush.

And nothing else.

“I like Presidents,” the young man said sheepishly. “I met George W. Bush when I was a kid, and he said I’d be President someday. I won’t. I’m too nervous, and I went to school for accounting, not political science, but I still like meeting each one if I can.”

Jake sighed. “Okay. Well, do me a favor and hang out here, okay? I’ll talk to the President and see if you can visit him for a moment after the address, but I don’t want anyone approaching him now.”

“Okay. Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you nervous.”

“That’s all right.”

Jake packed the young man’s backpack and assigned Carson to stay at his side. He tapped his earpiece and said, “Hey, Jess. False alarm. Just a fan.”

“Got it. Well, hey, you never know, he could be a Mark David Chapman type.”

“Well, he’s got no weapons, and he probably weighs a buck-thirty-five, so I think we’ll be okay this time.”

“Let’s hope all of our alarms are false. Hey, by the way, I’m thinking lobster.”

“Lobster? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Lobster. For dinner. It’s on you, right? The President is now walking back to the White House perfectly unharmed. I know this great seafood place in Baltimore. It’s a bit of a drive, but if you make DeMusio handle the paperwork, we can make it in time for happy hour.”

He sighed. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And expensive. I hope you have a deep wallet.”

CHAPTER TWO

“Russia? He wants to go to Russia?”

Jake stared at his boss in amazement. The silver lining to the ordeal aboard Air Force One six months ago was that the President had finally chosen to heed Jake’s advice and remain Stateside where Jake could more easily protect him.

And now he wanted to go to the nation that probably hated the United States the most.

Deputy Director Arthur Davis sighed and rubbed his temples. Other than Jess, he was Jake’s closest friend in the Service, and like Jess, he never seemed to be as concerned as Jake about the President’s safety.

No, that wasn’t fair. He was concerned, he was just optimistic.

“Jake, I don’t have to tell you that tensions are high between the U.S. and Russia right now.”

“That’s literally the reason I think this is a bad idea.”

“Well, it’s happening, and as usual, it doesn’t matter whether we approve. Look, the President is under fire for not doing more to address the war in the Ukraine. He’s trying to take an active role in mediating the situation.”

“Did he tell you all of this?”

“No, but it’s not hard to figure out if you watch the news every now and then.”

Jake sighed. “So what is it going to be? Another summit?”

“Yes. Russia, the U.S., a few of their allies, a few of ours. The usual mix.”

“And the goal is to what? Get Russia to have a change of heart about acting imperialist?”

“Where’s all the hate coming from? You’re too young to remember the Soviet Union.”

“It’s not hate; it’s just reality. Our ideologies differ too much to find common ground.”

“We still have to look like we want to try. Look, I’m not going to argue about it. That decision has nothing to do with our mission. We’re going to keep the President safe. Obviously, you and Jess are going. I’ll be back here, but I’ll have my phone on twenty-four-seven if you need anything. Dawson and his team are going. You and I are going to review the itinerary, discuss possible threats and our responses to them and handpick a team we both feel safe with.”

“Is that even possible?”

"We have to do it anyway. I know you're upset about Trent and Merrill. I am, too. But they're the exception—the very rare exception—not the rule. Most of the agents here would immediately die for the President if they had to. You and I are doing this mostly for our peace of mind but also to ensure that we’re on the same page and prepared for anything we might face.”

“Why is it just you and me? Jess should be here.”

“Jess is poring over the new Air Force One with a fine-toothed comb and a busload of Air Force inspectors. They would prefer to handle the preflight inspections from now on. Can’t say I blame them.”

Trent and Merrill were the two agents that had betrayed the President and tried to kidnap him and his family. They had somehow managed to sneak multiple bombs on board the plane. Needless to say, despite Jake’s heroics, the Air Force wasn’t very happy with the Secret Service after that.

“So why is Jess there?”

“I think she’s dating one of them.”

“Ah. Gotcha.”

“Don’t start saying anything about conflict of interest, Jake. We all know about your little indiscretion.”

“She’s not an indiscretion, she’s my girlfriend. And I didn’t say anything.”

“I saw the frown.”

“That’s just my face.”

“Well, turn that face to this here,” Art turned a map of Moscow around, “and tell me how we make this safe.”

“Airstrikes.”

“Funny. Now look at this map and help me out.”

The map showed alternate routes from the airport to the hotel where the President would be staying and alternate routes from that hotel to the Kremlin, where the summit would take place. Jake studied the map for potential threats and came to the unsurprising conclusion that it didn’t matter which routes he chose. All carried a potential for a sniper, a gunman, a bomb, or some off-the-wall Trident play that no one could see coming.

Trident was Bard’s organization. Before he took it over, it was a loose gathering of dissidents. Under his leadership, it had briefly become the largest and most powerful terrorist organization in the world before Bard’s overreach and poor choice of friends had greatly weakened the group.

Still, Bard was incredibly resourceful and capable of quickly recruiting people to his cause, so Jake wouldn’t be surprised if he resurfaced in Moscow. Especially in Moscow. Anti-American sentiment in Eastern Europe was at its highest since the Cold War, and while Russia was no longer the Soviet Union, it was still the leader of that side of the globe. Where it went other countries followed, and right now, it went a decidedly anti-Western direction.

“We’ll take this one,” Jake said, pointing at the green highlighted route from the airport to the hotel, “And this one,” pointing at the red highlighted route to the Kremlin. “Those are the fastest routes, and they limit the possible threats to a few thousand or so.”

Art chuckled and this time didn’t comment on Jake’s attitude. “Yeah, I figured as much. Now about protection. It’s a dream to think we’re going to be allowed any kind of air support, even drones. It’s a pipe dream to think we’ll be allowed to look at anything without some Kremlin agent ensuring we don’t see anything. I’ve reached out to my contacts in the CIA, and they have assets that can scope out the Kremlin, the airport and the hotel before we arrive, but there’s not going to be any chance of real-time information. Also, we’ve been asked to limit the President’s protection to a dozen agents.”

“And we told them to shove it up their asses, right?”

Art sighed. “Well, from what the White House has told me, they’ve bargained it up to two dozen agents, but that’s the best we’re going to get.”

“I can work with that number. Dawson and his boys are a shoo in for the detail, obviously. Jess handles communications and logistics. She can have two people to help her. That’s eight so far.”

“You’ll want some agents for the First Lady and the First Daughter,” Art informed him.

“What?”

“They’re going too.”

Jake blinked. “Is it even worth asking why?”

“The President wants to show that he trusts Russia.”

“Why the hell would he trust Russia? They haven’t done anything to earn our trust.”

“I can’t imagine they’ll be stupid enough to let anything happen to the First Family.”

“Did he not learn his lesson in France?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you go ask him?”

Jake sighed. He knew better than anyone that when Bryan had his mind set on something, changing his mind was impossible.

“Okay. Then I want two agents each on Carrie and Sheila, and RRT Two to provide heavy firepower.”

“We can’t have people in battle dress uniforms in the middle of Moscow.”

"They'll wear standard-issue black uniforms instead, but their weapon loadout remains the same. We might need to ask for forgiveness and not permission, but this is important, Art. If something does happen, and we need to fight our way out, these guys are going to have a much easier time of it then ordinary agents will."

Art sighed. “All right. I’ll talk to Munoz. That’s twenty-four, and it leaves us no one to guard Air Force One.”

“That’s another ask for forgiveness. The Air Force will handle the plane’s security. They can assign as many service members as they deem necessary, and we’ll claim that we thought that since they’re staying with the plane, they didn’t count as part of the President’s protection.”

“You realize it’s the President who will have to explain these diplomatic faux pas’ right?”

“I realize that we need to keep him safe in the most dangerous country to keep him safe. He’ll have to just accept the situation.”

Art shook his head. “I still can’t get used to how easily you talk about him like that. I know he’s your friend, but damn.”

“That’s the job. Safety first, even if that means we have to be stern about some things.”

“I know. All right. Start naming names.”

They spent another hour handpicking agents and assigning them to the various roles that needed to be filled. That task was far harder after Trent’s and Merrill’s betrayal. If two veteran agents could turn out to be traitors, then Jake didn’t know who he could trust at all.

In the end, he picked agents based on seniority, experience in role and personal details like family life. Trent and Merrill both had turned because of family members experiencing health crises, so anyone going through that was out. People in financial difficulties were out too. No one with a compelling reason to risk it all on a hail-Mary shot at salvation.

The team they came up with was solid, but all Secret Service teams were solid. The Service had some of the strictest hiring standards in government, for obvious reasons, and there could be no learning curve for the same obvious reasons.

So things were as good as Jake could expect.

That still wasn’t enough to ease his worries.

***

“I still don’t understand why we couldn’t eat at the restaurant,” Jess said, handing Jake a hoagie and a cup of coffee.

“Because we’re talking about state secrets,” Jake said.

Jess took a seat at her computer and said, “No one at Fred’s Hoagies gives a damn about state secrets. They’re too busy enjoying perfection.”

“And yet you wanted lobster last night.”

“I wanted you to buy me an expensive dinner. I’m trying to establish expectations early on in my relationship with Captain Braden. When I tell him that the hero who landed Air Force One on three engines and half a rudder bought me a two-hundred-dollar lobster dinner, he'll have to one-up you, and I'm looking forward to seeing what he comes up with."

“Jesus Christ. You’re a nightmare.”

“Only to the men I date. Now get on with the state secrets before I take a bite of this cheesesteak and stop caring about anything else.”

"Well, I want your thoughts. What do you think we need to worry about next week? I mean, really worry about."

“The hotel.”

“You think so?”

“Yes. The Kremlin is a heavily guarded building, even more so than the U.S. Capitol. Even to kill the U.S. President, Russia will take an attack in that building very poorly, and it would be next to impossible to make it happen. Yes, I know that Bard has done next to impossible stuff before, but I think it’s a stretch to say he could do it in Moscow.