The Inside Ring

Dog owners always say that too.

Engles took DeMarco to a kitchen that smelled of apples and cinnamon and had a fireplace big enough for a Yule log. It was a comfortable, cheery room and he could imagine generations of grandkids licking the spoon from the icing bowl. Engles poured coffee into two large mugs and they took seats at a sturdy wooden table. Ol’ Bullet flopped down on the floor near Engles’s chair.

‘So what do you need from me?’ Engles asked as he added cream to his coffee. ‘I’m retired, you know.’

‘We’re taking a look at agent-selection procedures, Mr Engles. We’re particularly interested in how the inside ring is picked. You know: experience requirements, qualification criteria, that sort of thing.’

The ‘we’s were for Engles’s benefit. DeMarco was hoping he’d imagine an army of marching gray bureaucrats, the full and ponderous weight of government behind his mission.

‘What’s goin’ on here?’ Engles said. ‘You can get all that stuff right from the department’s personnel office. They have write-ups about training programs, selection guidelines, qualification criteria, all that crap. You didn’t drive down here for that. Why are you really here?’

So much for the ponderous weight of government.

‘Yeah, you’re right,’ DeMarco said, feeling like he’d been caught trying to hold up Santa Claus. ‘We’re curious about one agent who was at Chattooga River. A man you supervised before you retired.’

‘Who is it?’ asked Engles.

‘Billy Ray Mattis.’

‘You think Mattis shouldn’t have been assigned to that detail? Is that what this is all about?’

‘Not necessarily, but he was the youngest and least-experienced agent on duty that morning.’

DeMarco knew Billy was the youngest agent based on the video; he was guessing he was the least experienced.

‘You guys know Mattis took a bullet for the President in Indiana?’ Engles asked.

‘Yeah, I’ve seen his record. Is that why you selected him, because of Indiana?’

Engles went silent, his hands betraying his nervousness as they squeezed the coffee mug in front of him. Ol’ Bullet sensed the change in his master’s mood. The mutt’s eyes locked onto DeMarco’s jugular and from his throat came a low, rumbling sound. Engles reached down and ruffled the fur on the dog’s thick neck, calming it, while he thought about DeMarco’s question.

When Engles still didn’t respond, DeMarco said, ‘Look, I’m not trying to pin a rose on Billy Mattis. I just want to know why he was picked for the most sensitive assignment in the Service.’

‘Maybe it’s me you’re trying to pin the rose on,’ Engles said.

‘Mr Engles, you retired before the assassination attempt. There’s no way you can be held culpable for anything.’

‘Yeah, right,’ he said.

His voice oozing false sincerity, DeMarco said, ‘All we want to do, sir, is make sure the President continues to have the best security in the world – the kind of security men like you have always provided.’ He hoped Ol’ Bullet couldn’t smell the bullshit in the air.

Engles looked at DeMarco, looked away, and then looked back. He cleared his throat.

‘I didn’t select Mattis,’ he said. ‘Every other man who worked for me, I handpicked. But with Mattis, one day I just get word he’s being moved into my unit. When I asked why, I was told not to make waves. Somebody doing a favor for somebody. Happens all the time.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean the Secret Service is like any other big company. People get transferred around. Bosses make deals with other bosses to help their fair-haired boys. Or a guy’s having problems in one division so they move him somewhere else to see if he’ll do better.’

‘Is that what happened in this case?’

Engles shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

‘So who moved him into your unit?’

Engles hesitated. ‘Well, I heard it was Little Pat, hisself. Now I don’t know that for a fact; it’s just what I heard.’

‘Patrick Donnelly personally moved him into your unit?’ DeMarco was unable to keep the shock from registering in his voice.

‘Like I said, that’s what came out of the rumor mill.’

‘Why would the director of the Secret Service take an interest in the career of Billy Mattis?’

‘Hell, I don’t know. I also don’t see what the big deal is here. Mattis passed all the qualification boards, and when I got to know him, I liked him. Quiet guy. Serious about his work. Mind always on the job. Not one of those guys who gets bored and starts watching skirts in the crowd.’

‘So you didn’t complain about the assignment?’

‘No. I was pissed because I didn’t have a say in it, but there was no reason to make a stink. I would have, had he been a fuckup, but he wasn’t.’ Shaking his head, he added, ‘Poor Reynolds.’

‘Reynolds?’

‘Guy who replaced me. He must be catching hell right now, lettin’ that guy Edwards get into position that morning. I saw him the other day leaving his house, fuckin’ newsies shovin’ microphones in his face.’

‘Yeah,’ DeMarco said, feigning sympathy for poor Reynolds. ‘But what about Mattis? How much hell do you think he’s catching right now?’

‘For what?’ Engles asked.

‘You must have seen the video of the shooting. How Mattis dropped his sunglasses right before the first shot was fired.’

‘Is that what this is all about?’ Engles said, eyes blazing. ‘Look, any man in that unit could have dropped something, or tripped, or moved the wrong way. Just because Mattis did doesn’t have a damn thing to do with his experience or the selection procedures or who assigned him or any other fuckin’ thing.’

‘Yeah, you’re probably right,’ DeMarco said, sounding unconvinced. ‘But tell me, how did you rate Mattis’s performance when he worked for you, Mr Engles?’

Engles, still fuming, took a breath to regain his composure.

‘Let me put it this way,’ he said. ‘I had two kinds of good people who worked for me. I also had a few bad ones over the years but we won’t waste our time talking about those. The first kind, the kind who eventually move up through the ranks, were the guys who figured things out on their own. They didn’t always do exactly what you told them, but they did what you really wanted done. You understand what I’m sayin’ here?’

DeMarco nodded.

‘The second kind of good guy,’ Engles said, ‘was Billy Mattis. He just plain followed orders. Every organization needs people like him, people you can always rely on to do what they’re told, but Billy’s rank and file, a frontline grunt, and he always will be.’

‘What about his personality?’

‘I already told you: quiet, easygoin’. Raised proper, taught to respect his mama and love his country. He didn’t have any close friends in the unit but he got along with everybody. He was a likable guy. I liked him.’

‘How ’bout his politics?’

‘I honest to God don’t remember him ever expressing a political opinion about anything. I couldn’t tell you if he voted Republican or Democrat, or if he voted at all.’ Engles frowned. ‘Why are you asking about Mattis’s politics? You people think he actually had something to do with the shooting?’