For disclaimer and notes, please see part one.
Previously, on the West Wing: Crystal has the dubious honor of
telling President Bartlet what happened to Josh. POTUS decides he
needs to pay a visit to the Farm.
The Presidential motorcade made it past the gates of the
Langley, Virginia headquarters of the Central Intelligence Agency
easily enough. The Secret Service pushed Bartlet, Charlie, and
Crystal through the security checkpoints inside the main building on
the way to Rycher's office. Crystal could not help but glare at each
of the security cameras as she passed them. She knew Rycher was
watching the angry President and his entourage.
Rycher met Bartlet halfway to the director's office. "Mr.
President," Rycher said. "What a pleasant surprise."
"Save it," said Bartlet. "Where is he?"
"I'm sorry?" Rycher asked in feigned confusion.
"Where's Josh?" Bartlet asked slowly.
"Josh?" Rycher said, shaking his head. "I don't understand."
"You know," Crystal said. "The guy who got shot last night.
The guy you brought to the medic station on the training field."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Rycher lied.
"Go find him, Crystal," Bartlet said, not once taking his
eyes off the slippery CIA director. "Peterson, Largo, you two go
with her."
"Yes, sir," chorused Crystal and the pair of Secret Service
agents.
"You certainly seem to have butterfingers, Rycher," Bartlet
said.
"Sir?" asked Rycher, keeping with the ignorance act.
"You dropped the ball with India and Pakistan not that long
ago and now you've done the same thing with a member of my senior
staff." Rycher swallowed hard.
"Sir, we are close to capturing an international arms
dealer," Rycher said, hoping Bartlet would understand.
"I don't care," snapped Bartlet. "You made the call. You
put one of my staffers in danger. I can't just ignore that, Rycher."
"Sir-"
"He could have been killed!"
"Agent Seaborn was in charge of the case. It's her
responsibility."
"You're her superior," Bartlet said. "It's your
responsibility, damn it!"
"She was in charge of Josh's safety. It's on her head that
Josh got shot."
"No," Bartlet said coldly. "It's on yours."
Crystal was thankful she had worn her sneakers as she ran
from the main compound to the building that she had seen Rycher put
Josh in. The Secret Service agents had trouble keeping up with her.
She burst through the door, concerned that the CIA agents that had
once been guarding the door were now missing. "Josh?" she asked,
flipping on the light switch. She sighed as she looked around. Josh
was not there. The Secret Service came barreling in a moment
later. "They moved him," she said simply. "Rycher must have moved
him when he saw us coming in. If we split-up, we can find him
faster." Peterson handed Crystal a walkie-talkie. "Thank you."
Crystal checked four training buildings, disrupting three classes,
before finally finding Josh in a supply shed. "Josh?" she asked,
running inside. Josh had been lying on the floor, on a makeshift bed
of flack jackets, but sat up when he saw Crystal. "Josh!"
"Hey," he said smiling. "I was beginning to wonder.
"At least Rycher got you a change of clothes," Crystal said,
looking him over. He was no longer in the hospital gown, rather a
pair of jeans and a tee shirt with the CIA logo on the front.
Crystal helped Josh to his feet. "We're going to get you out of
here."
"We?" Josh asked as he got to his unsteady feet. Crystal
lifted the walkie-talkie to her lips.
"I've got him," she radioed.
"Roger that. Take him to Eagle; he's in the motorcade,"
crackled the voice of Largo.
"Ten-four," Crystal said before clipping the radio to her
belt.
"Eagle?" Josh asked. "As in the President? As in you were
talking with the Secret Service?"
"Yup," Crystal said as she guided Josh out of the small
building and towards the front entrance, where the motorcade was
parked.
"What's President Bartlet doing here?" asked Josh.
"Chewing out my boss. How are you, Josh? You haven't been
treated badly, have you?"
"I'm fine, all things considered. Your lovely spook pals
have been quite cordial."
"Yeah, right," Crystal said. She and Josh finally reached
the motorcade and climbed into the limousine with Bartlet.
"Mr. President," Josh said as he sat down beside Bartlet.
"Are you all right, Josh?"
"I've been better, sir."
"Crystal, I understand this guy, what's-his-name, you're
chasing has disappeared," Bartlet said as Crystal sat down across
from him.
"I have a feeling he might still be in town, though," Crystal
said.
"Josh's life could still be in danger?" Bartlet asked.
"Yes, sir. With his identity known, Josh can't possibly go
home."
"What do you suggest?" asked Bartlet. Josh remained silent
as he watched Crystal and Bartlet banter about safe lodgings. "A
hotel maybe? Would it be secure and anonymous enough?"
"Not with Shadid," Crystal said. "No way. If he weren't an
arms dealer, maybe… I just wouldn't trust a hotel."
"He could stay in the residence," Bartlet said, then turned
to Josh. "I hear the Lincoln Bedroom's nice."
"With all due respect, sir," Crystal said, "I don't think
so."
"Excuse me?" asked Bartlet.
"I'm pretty sure the Secret Service would agree with me,
too. Granted, the White House in teeming with Marine guards and
Secret Service agents, it's a pretty big target, even without
Shadid. Again, he's an arms dealer. He shot Josh in the middle of
downtown on a busy street. I can't and won't risk blowing up the
White House. Shadid could make one phone call, sir, and you could be
another page in the history books tomorrow."
"Well, there's something that's going to make it easy to go
to sleep tonight," Bartlet said sarcastically. "Sure you aren't
being melodramatic?"
"Sir," Crystal said, insulted.
"Well, you are the espionage expert," Bartlet said. "You
know of a safe place?"
"A place where Shadid won't bother to look," Crystal said
with a nod.
"Tell me it isn't the morgue," Josh said.
Charlie climbed into the back of the limousine. "The Secret
Service is ready to go when you are, sir," reported Charlie.
"Sir, could I make a request?" asked Crystal.
"Go ahead," Bartlet said.
"Could you possibly hold the motorcade for about ten
minutes?" she asked. Bartlet nodded, wondering what ten minutes
could do. Crystal turned to Josh, who was just as confused as
Bartlet. "Wait here," she said. "I'll be right back." With
that,
she left the limo.
"What on Earth do you think that's about?" asked Bartlet.
Crystal ran to the motor pool garage. She zipped her badge
through the security lock to enter. "Hey," she said to the head
mechanic on duty.
"What can I do for you, Agent?"
"I need a black Chevy Suburban with tinted windows," she
said. He nodded then looked on a key rack behind him. He pulled a
set of keys down and tossed them to her.
"Anything else?"
"Keys to the Pentagon City Mall, the Sheridan…" She let her
sentence trail off as she stopped to remove her glasses, rubbing the
bridge of her nose, thinking. "I guess that's good enough," she
finally concluded.
"I need your security clearance number." She sighed as she
rattled off the fourteen-digit code, placing her thumb on a scanner
to read her fingerprint. He typed the number into the computer
terminal and waited for confirmation. When it arrived, he handed her
two additional key rings. "Good luck, Agent Seaborn." She pocketed
the two new key chains then rushed to the black SUV.
Chance Meetings - 14
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