“Can always use another pilot, I suppose,” Governor Crimm despondently said, wishing he hadn’t eaten so much and humiliated that the First Lady had mentioned his submarine in public.
There were times when Bedford Crimm regretted his life. In Virginia, governors can’t succeed themselves, so he always had to wait four years before running again. For twenty years, he had been recycled through his arcane, antiquated, ridiculous state system–commander in chief for a term, then back to the private sector for another term, then back in the mansion again. The White House was smaller and more distant by now. Governor Crimm was over seventy, vodka went straight to his head, and his poorly wired submarine was almost never on course anymore.
The EPU troopers were getting restless. A crowd was gathering. Andy was no fool. He knew that an added bonus to flying the governor would be that the closer he could get to him, the more information he could gather for his Trooper Truth essays.
“Governor,” Andy said, “Let me just say again that I’d be honored to fly you and your family around in a new helicopter, and although I don’t need to be EPU, I will protect you at the same time. I don’t suppose I could have a moment to talk to you privately?”
Macovich was seething, but nobody could tell, because troopers were taught never to register what was going on inside them. His only consolation as he watched
Andy eclipse him on this crisp September night was that Macovich knew that horrid youngest Crimm daughter’s name very well. Wooo, he sure did. He had never spoken to her, not even when he had beaten her in pool, but he always kept his eye on her behind the dark mask of his sunglasses.
Her name was Regina, pronounced the British way, and this was part of what was wrong with her, if you didn’t include her unfortunate obesity and broad, homely face. It was well known among the troopers that Regina had inclinations that did not coincide with the First Lady’s relentless attempts to matchmake her undesirable daughters.
“Trooper Brazil’s not a great pilot,” Macovich whispered to the First Lady, deciding the best way to protect his turf was to set Andy up. “But he’s single and been pretty down lately. I think he’s lonely.”
“How sad!” the First Lady whispered back. “Why, I’ll just invite him to the mansion!”
“Oh, now that would be mighty nice, ma’am,” Macovich replied as if it were the most magnanimous thing he’d ever heard.
Andy Brazil had no idea what he was getting himself into, Macovich thought with a thrill of vindication. The pretty white boy was going to have the stuffing ripped out of him just like the straw man the flying monkeys carried off, following the orders of their supervisor, the wicked witch of the west, or wherever she was from.
“Well, I guess we should go,” the governor decided as his submarine plunged into murky bile spewed out by his gallbladder. “I’m not feeling well and should never have eaten that Belgian fudge cake that Trader had couriered to the restaurant and sent to the table,” he added as Andy’s antenna went up. “It’s true, Maude, I need to cut back.”
Macovich and his fellow troopers led the First Family away to the helicopter under a cloak of protective darkness as Andy got out his cell phone. He would call the steak house immediately and insist that any leftover fudge cake be sealed in a plastic bag right away. Suddenly he remembered he had promised Hammer to tell the governor about the situation on Tangier Island. The helicopter’s engines ignited and the four blades began to turn as Andy ran toward the chopper.
“But Governor!” Andy shouted, “Superintendent Hammer has urgent news and must talk to you!” His words were scattered by rotor wash.
“I smell cigarettes!” the First Lady went off like a smoke alarm as she held on to her stiffly sprayed hair, protecting it from the sudden wind.
“Not me,” all of the troopers said at once.
Smoke and his road dogs were watching all this from behind the tinted glass of the black Toyota Land Cruiser that had been stolen in New York and through a series of transactions had ended up in Smoke’s possession with new plates and the vehicle identification number filed off. The pirates had been cruising when they happened upon Bellgrade Shopping Center, where Ruth’s Chris Steak House was tucked back behind old trees, and they couldn’t help but notice the huge helicopter sitting in the grass.