Undercover (6 page)

It turned out that being a part of the first family's holiday, even from a distance, was enjoyable for him, more so than he'd expected. He wasn't just a robot standing by. He kicked a football around with Brad, and had several conversations with Amelia, and both the president and the first lady thanked him for his kindness to their children, and warned him not to let them take advantage of him, or Amelia talk his ear off. They had a new black Lab who was full of energy, and Marshall played with him as well. It was the happiest Thanksgiving he'd had in years, and he liked the men he was working with. They had a good rapport, were a cohesive team, and were very serious about their job.

When Bill Carter checked on him with his superiors, they said Marshall was doing well and had integrated beautifully, especially with the first family, and the president had specifically requested him several times, particularly during weekends because he was so nice to the kids.

“I'm not so sure we're going to give him back to you in a year,” his supervisor in the Secret Service said to Bill. “Maybe he won't even want to go back to work in the field.”

“Don't count on it,” Bill Carter said, knowing the breed too well, “it's in his blood. But I'm glad he's doing well. He had a tough reentry, and I was worried about him. Some bad things came down when we got him out. It sounds like he's coming around. Sometimes these guys never get over what we put them through,” Bill said, feeling guilty for a minute. He had seen it happen too many times before, men who never recovered their lives when they came back, and couldn't forget the people they left behind. He had been afraid that Marshall would be one of those—he had seemed dead for a while. But his time close to the president and first lady, and particularly their children, was bringing him back to life. Bill was pleased to hear it, and happy to know he was doing well, and as efficient as always in the job. He was a dedicated agent at whatever he did.

Marshall was on duty over Christmas, at his own request, and went skiing with the first family in Aspen after that, and personally skied with Brad, while Melissa taught Amelia herself. She had been a champion racer in her youth, and Amelia took to the slopes with ease. Only the president skied very little and stayed in the house most of the time—he had too much else to do—but he had asked Marshall to ski with Brad, as one of the younger agents on the detail. Brad loved hanging out with him, and sometimes when joking with him, Marshall spoke to him in Spanish, and Brad always laughed at that. The first lady overheard him one day, and addressed him in nearly flawless Spanish, which surprised him. And they conversed for a few minutes in Spanish. She asked where he had learned it, and he said he'd lived in South America for six years, and then she remembered his work history with the DEA. She was curious about his experiences undercover, but was hesitant to ask him about them. Only Brad hounded him to tell him stories, once he heard about it from the other agents, but Marshall never would. Brad said he wanted to work for the CIA one day, and Marshall always teased him that the DEA was better. He had an easy rapport with both kids, and enormous respect for their parents, how good they were with their children, and kind to their employees. And he was sorry to leave Aspen, where he had enjoyed the skiing and the relaxed time with Melissa and the kids.

Once back in Washington, he was on the job with the president again. Marshall still had no social life of his own, and didn't want one. He showed no interest in the women he met at the office. The one thing he knew after losing Paloma and their baby, and years earlier his parents, was that he never wanted to love anyone and lose them again. His work was enough for him.

They had a busy winter and spring, with state dinners, political meetings, a trip to Europe, another to Asia, another trip to Australia, appearances in Texas, California, and other states, and a brief stay in Oklahoma when a series of tornadoes devastated the state and the president went to observe the damage. It startled Marshall to realize that he had been back from Colombia for fifteen months, by the time things settled down in May, and he had been assigned to the president for seven months.

Amelia made him a birthday card herself and gave him a cupcake with a candle in it when he turned thirty. And Brad gave him a football autographed by Aaron Rodgers, which had been given to him and was one of his prize possessions. Marshall was hesitant to accept it, but Brad insisted he wanted him to have it, and Marshall promised to put it in a place of honor in his apartment, which still looked stark and sterile. He kept meaning to fix it up, but now he had no time. And Georgetown still didn't feel like home. The last place that had felt like home to him was his hut in Raul's camp, but that was because of who was there.

He thought of Paloma a little less often now, although she still haunted him, with her heavy round belly. And in the back of his mind, he still wanted to hunt Raul down and kill him one day. He had heard through his DEA sources that his operation had been severely hampered, and he was back in Colombia by then, in a different location. The DEA had an operative in his camp, working at a low level, but no one had been able to infiltrate into the operation to the degree that Marshall had. Raul was even more careful now, and had learned a painful lesson when he realized that Marshall had betrayed him, and outsmarted him for three years. But Raul had won in the end, when he killed Paloma, and struck at the heart of everything that mattered to Marshall.

In July, Marshall got a call from Bill Carter to tell him the news. They had enough information to move on Raul's camp again. They had effected a devastating raid, and Raul had been killed, along with two of his brothers. Bill wanted Marshall to know, and thought he'd be relieved. But all Marshall felt was emptiness, like a giant hole in his stomach or his heart. He was surprised to discover that his death didn't matter. Paloma was dead, whether Raul was dead or alive. Their child had never been born, and a beautiful young woman he had loved had been snuffed out. It felt right that Raul was dead now too, but it didn't change anything. It was all in the past.

The next day Marshall was thinking about them, staring into space, and remembering Raul and Paloma and the life they had shared. It seemed like only yesterday and yet was so long ago. He was at a compound the president had rented for the month on Long Island, and Marshall was standing guard outside the house, when he felt someone tug at his sleeve, and he looked down and saw Amelia. He had been a million miles away, and she was wearing her bathing suit and gazed up at him with worried eyes.

“Are you sad?” she asked him directly. He was sad about Paloma and the baby, but had a sense of justice about Raul, none of which he could explain to the little girl, but she had seen the far-off expression in his eyes in an unguarded moment as he drifted in time and space to the camp in Colombia where he had had a life for three years as Pablo Echeverría. A part of him would always be that man. And now Pablo was as dead as they were.

“Of course not,” Marshall said, smiling at her. “So when are we going swimming in the ocean?” He had promised to take her that afternoon. Brad had gone fishing with his father on a friend's boat, and Marshall had been assigned to stay at the house with Amelia and her mother. He didn't mind at all.

“You looked sad,” Amelia insisted, watching his face intently, but he seemed fine now. “I want to look for shells on the beach, and build a sandcastle with you.”

“Okay, let's go,” he said, communicating with other agents in the detail on the radio he wore. They needed three agents on the beach, and one to replace him at the house. And a few minutes later he and Martha, the children's nanny, headed to the beach, with shovels, pails, and molds to make the castle, and by the time the first lady joined them, Marshall had built a very creditable castle, and they had a bucket full of shells. The first lady looked pleased. She hadn't been feeling well recently, and seemed to be resting a lot, and there had been rumors about her health. Everyone was concerned. She was wearing a bathing suit that day, with a white cover-up over it, through which he could see her shape, and suddenly he noticed that there was a familiar bulge that he had last seen when Paloma was pregnant, and he realized that the first lady was expecting another child, although there had been no announcement yet, but he had just seen it for himself. She looked four or five months pregnant and had done a masterful job of concealing it until then. He didn't say anything, but she saw that he had observed it, and she smiled.

“We thought it best to keep this quiet as long as we could, to keep it out of the press. We're going to tell the kids this weekend,” she said as Amelia ran down to the water's edge with Martha and her bucket.

“Congratulations,” Marshall said quietly, and thought of Paloma again. At forty-two, given the stresses of the life Melissa led, he suspected it might not be such an easy thing, and he wondered how Amelia and her brother would take the news. Amelia was the star and the baby in the family for now, and might not welcome the competition. But two days later, Amelia told Marshall herself.

“We're having a baby,” she announced matter-of-factly, as they built another castle on the beach. “I want a girl. If it's a boy, I think we should send it back. My mom says I can help take care of her.” She didn't seem upset about it all—they had obviously handled the announcement well. She had turned seven and liked the idea of being a big sister. He was surprised to find he was looking forward to it too, although the memory was bittersweet for him. He and Amelia played games trying to pick out names for it, and he teased her by reminding her it might be a boy, at which she always made a face.

The following week the news was announced in the press. The president and first lady were expecting a baby in November, shortly before Thanksgiving, and the first lady was going to curtail some of her activities in the coming months. Marshall thought they were wonderful parents and was happy for them. The president seemed very pleased.

By the time they moved back to Washington at the end of August, Melissa was six months pregnant, and it was very evident. It gave a touching, human quality to the first family, and Phillip's popularity went up in the polls again. He was a sure win for the next election the following year. The decisions he had made in the last three years had been sound, the country was doing better than it had in a while, and felt secure with Phillip Armstrong at its helm.

The kids went back to school in September, and Marshall met with Bill Carter to discuss the end of his leave from the DEA in a month. He looked healthy and well in mind and body, and he appeared to have thrived during his eleven months protecting the president. Bill Carter had a strong feeling he wasn't coming back to the DEA, which he suspected would be better for him than the life he had led before. He had paid a high price for that life.

“So what do you want to do? You know you can resign from us, and become Secret Service. This was a good chance for you to decide if you want to work for the Secret Service full time. You gave us the best you had to give for a long time.” He didn't want Marshall to feel guilty about quitting and moving on, and he was doing so well with the Secret Service that it seemed a shame to leave. But Bill was stunned by his response.

“I want to come back,” Marshall said quietly. “It's what I was trained to do. I've had a great time for the last year, and I guess I needed the break more than I realized. I love the Armstrongs—they're a fantastic family. But my heart is with the DEA.”

“You still want undercover?” Bill Carter stared at him. What he had just heard was hard to believe.

“It's where I can do the most good. This is a great job, but all my skills, training, and experience are for the DEA,” he said simply. He'd been thinking about it a lot.

“They're crazy about you, Marshall. Every report you've gotten is gold star. And he's a shoo-in for the next election. You've got five sure years working for a president you like.”

“I know, but that's not where I belong. I don't want to waste six years of everything I learned in Ecuador and Colombia. Raul may be dead, but there are waves of others to take his place. We have work to do down there. It's where I serve my country best. I want to come back. And I don't care where you send me, as long as it's Central or South America. That's who I am. I know I can't go back to Colombia or Ecuador, but Mexico is getting hotter by the day, and in the right setup, I think you could use me there. All my work for Raul in Mexico was done through third parties. No one will recognize me there.” He was totally clear on what he wanted. “I have six more weeks left in my commitment to the Secret Service. I can push it till the end of the year if you want. But they don't need me, and the DEA does. Lots of Secret Service agents want the job I have now. I want another assignment in the field, no matter how rough it is. It's time. I'm getting soft sitting around at state dinners and playing with the kids. I'm thirty years old, I have no attachments here. I know this is right for me.”

Bill Carter couldn't disagree, but he was surprised anyway. Marshall seemed so happy working with the Secret Service, and they were thrilled with him, although in some ways he was overqualified for the job, and they knew it. They didn't need any of his drug enforcement and undercover experience for what they did. And he wanted to use all his skills again.

“Give us a little time to find you the right spot.” There was a huge operation that had been growing exponentially in Panama, even bigger than Raul's, where Bill thought they could place him. And Mexico was an option, just as Marshall said. It was a decision that would have to be made by committee, and the assignment, whether in Panama or Mexico, would be even more dangerous than the ones he'd had before. But Bill realized now more than ever that Marshall was one of those men who thrived on the danger and the challenge. When Bill told Marshall's superiors at the Secret Service, they were disappointed, but the agent he had replaced on family leave was ready to come back, so it would work out. His wife had done well on chemo and was in remission, and he could resume his duties on the White House detail. The first family was fond of him too.