Balance of Power

    "Lara will be taking her family out to Dulles Airport for the return trip to San Francisco. And then she'll meet the President at Andrews Air Force Base for the flight to Martha's Vineyard."

    "Will the Costellos be doing any media?"

    "Perhaps a few selected interviews, some with the Hispanic media." Pausing, Connie said wryly, "Very selected."

    From this, Peter inferred that Lara was, as he expected, resisting the no doubt limitless requests that she offer up her family to the press. "I'll want their schedule," Peter told Connie. "Especially for whatever time they'll be spending with Lara."

    "Absolutely," Connie answered, and then Clayton's telephone rang. With a puzzled expression, he rose from his chair and answered.

    Placing the receiver down, he turned to Peter Lake. "As soon as we're finished, Peter, the President would like to see you."

* * *

    When Peter entered the Oval Office, the President motioned him to a comfortable couch, and sat in a nearby chair.

    "It's about Lara's family, Peter. I need your help."

    This was said with a sobriety which suggested, to Peter's trained antennae, that the President was deeply concerned. This was underscored by the absence of the President's usual inquiries about Peter's own family, or even the casual greetings suitable to two men who spent much time together, one of whom saw the other in unguarded moments few other people witnessed. Peter Lake considered Kerry Kilcannon an extraordinary man, with a grace and kindness at odds with the coldminded politician his enemies portrayed. The President had never asked for secrecy regarding his affair with Lara, and seemed to trust him utterly. That he also had never mentioned the nearly successful attempt on his life which had occurred on Peter's watch, but instead expressed great pleasure at Peter's assignment to the White House, only intensified Peter's determination that no harm would ever befall this President.

    "Anything I can do, Mr. President."

    "As much as you can, I'd like you to watch out for them while they're here—if not directly through the Service, through the D.C. Police." The President leaned forward. "They're not public people, and I don't want them harassed. Worse, they'll be targets of opportunity—for Al Qaeda or whoever else. I can't let anything happen to them."

    This was more concern, Peter thought, than Kerry Kilcannon had ever shown for himself. "I'll make sure they're well protected," Peter answered, and then paused before adding gently, "And the First Lady–to-be."

    With a faint smile, the President considered him. "I know that. But there's something else I need your help on, in confidence."

    Peter made no answer. He did not need to.

    "You'll remember the problems with Joan's husband." The President steepled his fingers, eyes remaining fixed on Peter Lake. "Last month she got a court order that he stay away from her and their six-year-old daughter, and had the cops take away his gun. He's threatened suicide or even murder."

    "And you think that's more than talk."

    "It could be." Pausing, the President spoke in a lower voice. "This morning, he went to court on the battery charge. Joan told the court that—if he agreed to a program for batterers—she didn't want him jailed. So that's what the judge did.

    "For a lot of men, these programs really help. But I can't assume that about John Bowden. The only thing I'm sure of is that he's free."

    Peter considered this. "You can't be sure he won't try to get another gun. And he can always snatch Marie, with or without one."

    "My problem is that I'm stuck." The President stood, hands in his pockets, as if his lack of power made him restless. "I can't ask the Service to protect them. And I can't ask the police to guard them without creating a lot of problems—including publicity, which Joan doesn't want and which might only make Bowden worse. The only recourse Lara and I seem to have is hiring private security, like everyone else. For whatever that's worth."

    Briefly, Peter reflected. "There are things we can do," he answered. "If someone who might attract a violent person is in proximity to you or the First Lady, we take over. As for the rest, we can have our field office in San Francisco in touch with the police, monitoring her situation."

    "I appreciate that. But it doesn't guarantee Joan's safety. Or Marie's."

    "If you want to set up personal security," Peter said, "one of our exagents has a security firm in San Francisco. Anything you want—security monitors, twenty-four-hour protection for Joan, someone watching her daughter's school—my friend Tom Burns can do. It all depends on how much you want to spend."

    At once, the President looked relieved. "Money's no object," he replied. "At least until this guy's calmed down."

* * *

    At seven forty-five that evening, the President took a call in his upstairs office.

    "Sorry I'm so hard to find," Robert Lenihan told him. "But I'm in the middle of a securities fraud trial, with close to five hundred million dollars in damages. Another corporate rip-off."