The Devil's bed

Malone. Bo had never met him, but he knew him by reputation. He was reputed to possess, as a result of his long and varied career with the Secret Service, an excellent understanding of the exigencies of the job. Malone shook his hand, then indicated another chair.

“Have a seat, Agent Thorsen.”

“I’d like to know what’s going on,” Bo said.

“The assistant director asked you to sit down,” Ishimaru said.

Bo sat.

“I’ll cut to the chase, Agent Thorsen. Special Agent Chris Manning has made certain allegations concerning the appropriateness of your actions prior to and during the incident at Wildwood.”

“What allegations?”

“You’ll be receiving a full statement shortly. I’m here to convene an internal board of inquiry. I’ve directed S.A.I.C. Ishimaru to suspend you with pay pending a finding by that board.”

“What?”

“Take it easy, Bo,” Ishimaru said.

He gave her an angry look. “My ass is about to be nailed to the wall, Diana. Are you okay with all this?”

“This is standard procedure, Bo, and you know it.” Then she added, “In this, my hands are tied.”

“Bullshit. Is this why I’ve been denied access to Wildwood?”

Malone said, “Until the board of inquiry has reached a finding, we don’t want you to communicate with any of the principals involved.”

“Right. And it just happens to keep me conveniently away from the First Lady.”

“That’s another issue, Agent Thorsen,” Malone said. “One we need to discuss.”

“I’m through discussing,” Bo said. He stood up.

“Agent Thorsen,” Ishimaru said. “Sit down. We’re not finished.”

“I am.” Bo walked out the door.

He was halfway down the hall when Ishimaru caught up with him.

“Agent Thorsen, at the moment my patience is dangerously thin and your actions are very close to insubordination. We need to talk.”

“Talk about what? You know everything that happened at Wildwood. What more is there to say? From now on, Diana, if you want to talk to me, you go through my lawyer.”

“Bo-”

He didn’t stay to hear what else she had to say. If he’d remained a moment longer, he’d have put his fist through the wall.

chapter thirty-eight

Bo drove to his apartment in Tangletown, the whole way battling against rage. Losing control of himself now was the last thing he needed. When he mounted the stairs to his apartment and discovered his door was unlocked, his mood didn’t brighten any.

Fortunately, it was Otter he found inside.

“Used the key you hide in the garage,” Otter said. He saw Bo’s dark look and added without apology, “You told me anytime.”

“Yeah,” Bo said, relenting. “I did.”

Otter was at the kitchen table with some playing cards spread out before him.

“How was the trip?”

“It was fine.”

“You sure? You look like you just drank spoiled milk.”

“Bad day,” Bo said.

He went to the phone and dialed Wildwood, the direct number for the main house. The call was intercepted by Secret Service. When Bo identified himself, he was told politely that he couldn’t be connected.

“Shit,” he said as he hung up.

Otter looked up from his cards. “What’s the problem?”

“Everywhere I turn, somebody’s dropping a wall in front of me.” Bo sat down at the table. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought you could use something to keep you busy during your convalescence. So I brought you a little gift.”

Otter got up and went to the living room. He lifted a plant in a terra-cotta pot and held it up for Bo to see.

“It’s a dieffenbachia,” Otter said. “A real one. I know you like the artificial things because they don’t require your attention, but they don’t give you anything either. Now this dieffenbachia, you take care of it, water it, talk to it, it’ll give you something in return, Spider-Man. It’ll grow for you.”

Otter put the plant back in the sunlight.

Bo went into the bedroom, set his overnight case down, and laid his garment bag on the bed. He walked to the closet, cleared his shoes from the floor, and pulled back a flap of carpet. There was a safe built into the floor underneath. Bo worked the combination, lifted the door, and pulled out his Sig Sauer. He took the holster from where it lay on the closet shelf, snugged the weapon into place, and clipped it to his belt. When Bo returned to the living room, Otter took a look at the weapon on his hip and whistled.

“Big gun, Spider-Man.”

“I’m beginning to think not big enough. Look, Otter, I’ve got to run.”

“That’s okay.”

“You sticking around for a while?”

“Just long enough to water your plant.”

“Lock up when you leave.”

It was late afternoon when Bo headed to the St. Croix Regional Medical Center for his second visit with Tom Jorgenson. He never made it to Jorgenson’s room. A Secret Service agent, one of the new ones, stopped him as soon as he stepped off the elevator.

“Sorry, Thorsen. You’re not allowed up here now. Orders.”

“Ishimaru?”

“These came from Assistant Director Malone himself.”

Bo was only yards from the room, but he knew he’d get no closer now. It was useless to argue. He went down to the lobby and used a pay phone.

“St. Croix Regional Medical Center.”

“Would you connect me with room four-twenty-two B, please?”