Mrs. Hooper kicked things off, saying, "Let me size up this problem for you. Seven months out from the general election, can you imagine a worse time to have this crisis? Do you all understand what I'm saying?"

I think we were all wondering when Mrs. Hooper thought there was a good time, but we collectively nodded and tried our best to appear attentive and sensitive to her problem. We were civil servants getting our marching orders from our political masters. It's always interesting and often informative to hear what the politicos are thinking.

She continued, "The President's schedule over the next four days includes a campaign sweep through the South. These are key battleground states. This is a neck-and-neck campaign. The election will turn on who wins there, and we cannot cancel or even reshuffle these appearances." She added, as though the guy were an afterthought, "The Vice President has scheduled appearances, some of which we can cancel, some of which we cannot."

I said, "Did it occur to you that the assassins might know the President's schedule? In fact," I added, "maybe they started the killing this morning because they knew the President would be vulnerable for the next two days."

Mrs. Hooper stared at me a moment, then replied," I don't believe that's an issue. Some events are publicized, but the details and security arrangements are strictly need-to-know."

I reminded her, "So was the security plan for Belknap's house."

She did not appear to welcome or embrace this insight, but Wardell picked up on it and said, "The advice of the Secret Service is to bury the Vice President in cold storage till this thing blows over. Also, cancel all public appearances for the President over the next few days, or until this thing becomes clearer."

She replied coldly, "I told you that's not in the cards."

"That's an official recommendation, incidentally." "You're on record."

"I'll follow up with a paper copy of our recommendation after the meeting."

"I'm sure you will."

Having gotten the pissy ass-covering out of the way, Wardell explained for all our benefits, "We can and will beef up the security details, but no way can we provide double coverage of everybody in the administration."

Mrs. Hooper thought about that grim warning a moment. "After this meeting's over, I'll give you the names of the people we want double-covered. Offhand, the President and Vice President, obviously, and certainly the Secretary of Defense."

It went without saying that Mrs. Hooper would also make the final scrub. But nobody was impolitic enough to mention that, including me.

Wardell informed her, "Double coverage of the President and Vice President was initiated at 0730 this morning. We don't do the SecDef, he has a CID detail. But I'll be sure to pass the word."

Meany chose this moment to ask a good and timely question. He said, "If you double the coverage, Chuck, what are the odds?"

"That depends. Our defenses and techniques are set up primarily to deter, hinder, and prevent the very type of single assassin Agent Margold described-nuts, weirdos, and ego-deprived idiots. There's a strong historical basis… you know, Lincoln, Garfield, JFK, the attempts on Ford and Reagan… All those assassins were lone nutcases. So our agents study profiles of these people and we train them to react to the modus operandi of that kind of individual."

He looked around for a moment to be sure we all understood this significant point. "We're dealing here with a highly trained team. Maybe two people… maybe a dozen. We can and will vary the President's movement patterns and protection profiles… But if he's out in the open, if he's pressing flesh and smooching babies-"

"If it's a manpower issue," Meany interrupted, "we'll supplement your people with our agents."

"It is a manpower issue. But our agents operate as teams. Throw untrained people in the mix and it would cause problems." He looked at George and emphasized, "The best thing you can do is find and eliminate the threat before it gets to that point."

Mr. Wardell was nobody's fool-the ball had just been shoved into Meany's court.

But to further amplify that point, Wardell added, "We'll handle the defense, you handle the offense. But let's be perfectly clear-this game won't be won on defense."

Mr. Wardell had now covered his beloved Service's ass up, down, and sideways, and three Sundays from Monday. I waited for Meany to boot the ball into someone else's court, but he stared at the wall, perhaps contemplating the effervescent career that once was his. Phyllis broke the somewhat strained silence and asked, "Back to Drummond's query, Mrs. Hooper. How would you like this handled publicity-wise?"

Instead of responding, Mrs. Hooper turned to Mr. Meany and asked, "How sure are you that this is about the bounty?"

"We're not sure' of anything. The motive is unknown at this time. Even the note could be a ruse."

"For what?”

"Belknap's murder could have been about Belknap, period. He was the highly public CEO of a major Wall Street firm before he joined the administration, and he made enemies by the bushel. The Secret Service has a thick file of death threats against him. Right, Chuck?"

"It's true," Wardell replied. "The Hawk was not a popular man."

George hypothesized, "The note could have been left to throw us off track." He studied the tabletop a moment before he added, "We have to keep an open mind."

Mrs. Hooper thought she saw a straw here and immediately reached for it. "All right. Tell me about the other possibilities."

It suddenly struck me that George had been fishing for just this opportunity. He smiled at her and replied, "I'll tell you what I think. If they were serious about killing the President, there wouldn't be a warning."

This glimmer of hope brought Mr. Wardell forward in his seat. "Go on."

George said, "They'd be stupid to alert us. Their job becomes more difficult… more risky."

Mrs. Hooper asked, "Then what's the point?"

"The point?" Clearly George was enjoying his moment, showing his brilliance, dispersing profundities to the washed and unwashed. He looked at all our faces, then back at Mrs. Hooper. He said, "Footballers call it the trap play We distract ourselves trying to protect the President, and they use the diversion to escape."

I had already considered George's theory, and already discarded it. Threatening the President's life was anything but a distraction; it was a magnet for the largest dragnet in history. But if George wanted to sound stupid, I wasn't going to contradict him.

Still, this was getting a little too open-ended for everybody's comfort level, so Jennie chose this moment to explain, "My boss may be right. Or he may be wrong. Here's what we do know- or at least can reasonably postulate at this stage. They're American. At least, from the idiomatic expressions, whoever wrote the note is American. And they have professional-level abilities and equipment."

"Great," said Mrs. Hooper. "I put out to the American people that some unknown group of professional assassins is hunting our President. Just great. Do any of you see where I have a problem with that? What do you think the public reaction's going to be?"

Indeed, we all saw her problem, and we all worked up appropriately pained expressions that were, of course, completely phony. That was her problem, and like all professional bureaucrats, we intended to keep our noses out of her in-box, and were sorely wishing she'd keep her nose out of ours.

Our problem was getting a handle on this thing when clearly the bad guys had a head start, momentum, and presumably a plan. I had the feeling Jennie was right; the killers knew exactly what they were going to do and how. The scheme would unfold at their pace and tempo. Unless they made a stupid mistake or miscalculation, if the President stayed out in the public, there was a good chance we'd still be playing catch-up when the big caisson rolled down Pennsylvania Avenue.