Oath of Honor

“Thank you.” She followed him through an archway, down a hall,

and into another small waiting area. He tapped on the heavy, carved

walnut door and responded to something that only he could hear. He

pushed open the door, and Wes entered Lucinda Washburn’s office. The

south lawn was visible opposite her through French doors framed by

floor-to-ceiling white brocade drapes. The Oriental carpet under her feet

looked expensive and old. A closed door on her left probably led into

the Oval Office. Wes stood at parade rest in front of Ms. Washburn’s

desk while the chief of staff signed off on a call.

Lucinda replaced the handset, stood, and held out her hand. “Good

• 61 •

RADCLYfFE

to see you again, Captain. Hang your coat up over there, and have a

seat.”Wes shrugged out of her topcoat and added it to several other

winter coats on a wrought-iron coat tree just inside the door. She took

one of the two leather chairs facing the desk and waited.

“Do you have any objections to taking a polygraph?”

“No, ma’am,” Wes said, seeing that they were about to get directly

down to business.

“Good. That’s really the last of the formal security items.” She

shrugged. “Protocol only. Your record has already been reviewed.”

Wes said nothing. She wouldn’t be sitting there if her service

record and probably everything that came in her life before that hadn’t

already been scrutinized in intimate detail. Pro forma.

“Have any questions?”

“No, ma’am.”

Lucinda smiled. “I am not in the military, so you can dispense with

the formalities. And feel free to speak. None of this is on the record.”

“May I ask how I came to be considered for the position?”

“Of course.” Lucinda gestured to a coffee urn and a row of plain

white mugs sitting on a linen-draped sideboard. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

While Lucinda poured, she talked. “Obviously, Dr.

O’Shaughnessy’s death was unexpected. The position is a critical

one, and with POTUS about to embark on a series of national and

international movements, we need the White House Medical Unit to

be at full staff.”

“I understand.” Wes waited for the rest of the story. The White

House medical staff usually came from the military, and there were

plenty of military physicians available. But she’d been short-listed. Not

just short-listed but fast-tracked.

Lucinda handed her a cup of coffee and angled the adjacent chair

to face Wes. When she sat, their knees were a few inches apart. “As you

can imagine,” Lucinda said calmly, “an election year is a volatile time

for the nation and disruptive to both parties. Emotions run high.”

“If there’s something I need to know about the president’s health,

I assume it will be in his records, but if not, then I need to know…off

the record.”

Lucinda’s eyes glinted as if she was pleased with Wes’s statement.

• 62 •

Oath Of hOnOr

“This isn’t television. There’s nothing we’re hiding about the president’s

health. He has some food allergies which you will note in his chart,

an old ligamentous injury to his right knee, and some annoying, but

I’m told not dangerous, floaters in his right eye. Other than that, he is

remarkably fit and healthy.”

“Excellent. I will be reviewing his records today.”

“We have excellent security,” Lucinda went on, “and the president

and I have total faith in his detail. In an election year, we always see an

escalation in death threats.”

Wes nodded. “I’ll need to know the nature of the threats, the

analysis of the threat level, and what the Secret Service containment

policies are.”

“You see,” Lucinda said, smiling more broadly now, “you’ve

just proved my point. We need someone in charge who knows how to

approach these kinds of issues in a scientific fashion.”

“Any physician should be able—”

“But not with the facility of someone whose job it has been to

set up treatment, triage, and interventional protocols under battlefield

conditions. That is a fairly unique skill.”

“Do you expect an attack on POTUS?”

Lucinda sipped her coffee and finally said softly, “It isn’t a question

of if the president will be attacked, but when. That is the presumption

we all work under, Captain Masters. As long as we believe that, we will

be prepared for anything.”

“I understand.” Wes decided to push her luck. “And the current

staff? Isn’t it customary to advance members from within?”

Lucinda shrugged. “There is nothing customary in the White

House, Captain. The guard changes every four to eight years, and many

of the personnel change at the same time. The rules, if there are any,

are almost totally dependent upon who occupies these rooms.” Lucinda

regarded her for a long moment, and Wes sat under her dissecting gaze

calmly. “The White House Military Office is your counterpart, and they

felt no internal candidate was qualified for the unique demands of this

position at this point in time.”

“I can assure you, Ms. Washburn,” Wes said, “I am prepared.”

“I’m very, very glad to hear that.” Lucinda set her cup aside, and