THE FUNCTION BEING held at One Observatory Circle tonight was relatively informal, a Maryland crab boil for several midlevel staffers and their families. That meant jackets with no ties—until the vice president went to shirtsleeves just before dinner and his male guests followed suit.
Agent Cormorant, however, kept his jacket on. It was specially tailored to conceal a .357 SIG Sauer pistol holstered under his right arm, and though the event was distinctly low-threat, it was not in Cormorant’s professional DNA to take anything for granted, especially not these days.
Secret Service had been covering the sprawling Victorian residence since 1972. The Rockefellers had never moved in, but the Mondales, Bushes, Quayles, Gores, and Cheneys had all lived here before the Tillmans. Every corner of the place was well documented, literally. Cormorant knew the house better than his own two-bedroom condo on M.
So when he needed a private word with the vice president, it was second nature to access the library through a back sitting room, to avoid being seen coming or going by any of the guests.
Tillman poured himself a scotch rocks and waited by the mantel while Cormorant closed and latched doors at both ends of the room.
“What is it that can’t wait, Dan?” Tillman asked.
“I should tell you right now, sir, that I’m about to step way out of line here,” Cormorant said.
Tillman sipped his drink. “That’s something new. The warning, I mean.”
The two men were friends, as much as men in their positions could be. Someday they’d share fishing trips and holidays, but for now, it was Mr. Vice President and Agent Cormorant—protectee and protector.
“Sir, I think it’s time you brought the president in on Zeus. Specifically the fact that someone connected to the White House or the Cabinet might be a killer.”
Tillman’s expression hardened instantly and he set his drink down. “The president knows that much. I took care of it. We still need facts. We need a name.” Tillman had already been briefed about the FBI raid in Virginia, but not on the latest developments. Cormorant quickly brought him up to speed, including the cameras found at the sex club.
“No one’s talking specifically about Zeus yet, but if any recordings happen to be found, it won’t matter what he calls himself.”
“When did this come out?” Tillman asked. He seemed visibly shaken now.
“Today. This afternoon.”
“And how do you know about it already?”
Cormorant maintained eye contact with the VP, and also what he hoped was a discernibly respectful silence.
“Right,” Tillman said. “Never mind. Go on, please. Sorry I interrupted you.”
“It’s actually the attorney general who might be able to do something about this. If there were any manageable pretense for sidelining the investigation or even slowing it down—”
Suddenly Tillman seemed angry, but it was always hard to tell with him.
“Hang on right there. You want the president to lean on the AG? Do you even know what you’re suggesting? A Cabinet member could be involved.”
“It’s not about what I want, sir. This has always been about protecting President Vance and this administration.”
A burst of laughter came from just beyond the foyer-side door. Cormorant didn’t waver, except to lower his voice a notch.
“I’m not suggesting we try to bury this scandal. I just need a little space to see if we can find out who Zeus is. If I can do that, then the White House will be in a better position to control the information when it comes out—and it is going to come out, sir, one way or another, sooner or later.”
“What does Reese have to say about this?” Tillman asked. “You ask him? Does he know about the cameras?”
“I briefed the chief of staff this afternoon, but nothing was said about bringing everything to the president. I wanted to speak with you first.”
“Don’t play me against him, Dan. And don’t play me against President Vance. The president has my complete loyalty.”
“I’m not trying to, sir—”
“No. All right. Here’s what you’re going to do.” Tillman had a way of shifting from inquiry to decision without warning, and it had just happened. “Talk to Gabe about this, and speak your mind with him. If he wants to bring it back to me, we’ll go from there. Otherwise, you and I never had this conversation.”
The vice president was already halfway to the door when Cormorant’s voice rose for the first time.
“Walter!” It was the kind of protocol breach that could send an agent down the ranks fast, under most circumstances, anyway. “I can find him. Zeus. Just give me the time to do it.”
Tillman stopped, but he didn’t turn around. “Talk to Gabe” was all he would say, and when he continued out of the room, Agent Cormorant had no choice but to follow.
The conversation was over, and the crab was getting cold in the other room.