DRIVING IN FROM the airport that night, Ned Mahoney and I were part of an emergency conference call that had been pulled together while we were still in the air. Theodore “Teddy” Vance was known to be with his wife, the president of the United States, at the Kennedy Center Honors. We had him. The question on the table was how to proceed.
Most of the resistance was from Secret Service, who ironically had the least say in this decision, except maybe for me. Their deputy director of investigations, Angela Riordan, was doing most of the talking.
“We’re certainly not going to put up with any of this habeas grabbus crap, understand? This is the First Gentleman of the United States we’re talking about. If the Bureau even thinks about crossing our security line, he’ll be gone before anyone gets inside the building. Do I need to repeat myself?”
“We have no issue with that, Angela.” This was Luke Hamel, the Bureau’s assistant director in charge on the case before it got moved to Charlottesville. We also had the FBI director himself, Ron Burns, listening in with a few of their people from legal. “No one’s talking arrest yet,” Hamel went on. “We just want to speak with him. He’s a person of interest at this point.”
“Then there’s no reason it can’t wait until tomorrow.” I recognized the slight accent of Vance’s personal attorney, Raj Doshi, who was driving in from Maryland as we spoke.
“Actually, there’s a very good reason,” I said. “People have already died under this cover-up. Not doing anything tonight means risking more lives, and the fact that we’re having this conversation only increases that risk.”
“Excuse me—Detective Cross, was it?” Riordan asked. “We’re not going to make tactical decisions here based on your gut feelings or your paranoia.”
“With all due respect, you have no idea if I’m being paranoid or not,” I said. I didn’t want to put too fine a point on it, but Ned Mahoney and I were holding more cards here than anyone else on the call.
Ultimately, I think Riordan recognized her lack of options, and she agreed to pull Vance in for questioning.
When Doshi insisted the interview take place off site, the FBI had no objection to the demand. They quickly settled on the Eisenhower Building.
“This is Cross again,” I said into the speaker. “Can I assume Dan Cormorant is already on duty at the Kennedy Center?”
“Why do you want to know?” It was Agent Silo Ridge this time; I hadn’t even realized he was on the line.
“Cormorant’s been my Secret Service contact on Zeus,” I said. “I’d be surprised if he didn’t have information we could use.”
The full truth was that I had some questions of my own for Cormorant, and I wanted to see him face-to-face before I said anything I might regret later.
They never answered me, but it didn’t matter. I’d find out soon enough. I could see the Kennedy Center looming straight ahead.