They moved out. Four Secret Service agents trotted alongside the tram, and Special Agent Mervin Beam brought up the rear in a golf cart.
25
The tram arrived at the rear of the amphitheater and everyone got off and walked through a door directly into Stone’s box. It was at the very rear of the theater, and this tier was the only one with a roof, but it was open to the amphitheater.
Beam held the door open for them and they filed into the box and found their seats, which had been labeled with their names. Stone was the last through the door and he noticed that even though it was a cool desert evening, Agent Beam was sweating heavily. As Stone stepped into the box, Beam followed him and closed the door behind him. Stone heard a lock being turned and as he glanced back he saw Beam slip a key into his jacket pocket. The front of the man’s shirt was now showing big sweat stains as the shirt stuck to his body.
As he took his seat, Ann pulled a stole around her shoulders. “Chilly, isn’t it?” she asked.
“It is,” Stone said, and he looked back at Beam again. The agent was standing, leaning against the door, sweat pouring down his face. He unbuttoned his jacket as if to make his weapon more accessible.
Stone got up and walked down to where Dino was sitting. “Got a minute?” he asked. Dino got up and followed him to the side of the box. “What’s up?”
“Something’s wrong,” Stone said. “Keep looking at the theater while we talk. Agent Beam is extremely nervous and is sweating heavily. Also, he’s the only agent in the box with us — we’ve always had at least two in the room — and he locked the door behind him and put the key into his coat pocket. That doesn’t seem to me like someone who is protecting us from an attack.”
“No,” Dino said, “it sounds more like someone who is a threat. What do you want to do?”
Stone told him. “Let’s wait until the program starts.” They returned to their seats as the Los Angeles Philharmonic began to play an overture as the last stragglers got to their seats.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” a voice boomed, “Miss Hattie Patrick and the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra.” There was loud applause as Hattie walked to the piano at the center of the stage. She sat down, the conductor raised his baton, cued the first clarinetist, who began a trill, then executed the glissando that began Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue. She had performed it once before in this venue.
Stone leaned back and looked at the back of Dino’s head down the row. Dino leaned back, saw him, and nodded. They both got up and went to their respective sides of the box, then walked to the rear and approached Beam from each side. Stone smiled as he neared the man. “I have to leave the box,” he said.
Beam looked alarmed and his hand slid under his jacket. Stone grabbed the man’s wrist and kept him from producing the weapon while Dino drew his pistol and held it under Beam’s chin. “Be very quiet,” Dino whispered into his ear.
Stone separated the man’s hand from his weapon and withdrew it himself. To his surprise, he found it had six inches of silencer screwed into the barrel. “Be very still,” he whispered to Beam as he felt in his coat pocket for the key to the door. He found it, then spun Beam around and used the man’s own handcuffs to secure his hands behind his back.
“Keep him here for a moment until I speak to the agents outside.” Dino nodded. Stone unlocked the door, let himself out, and looked around. No agents in sight. Where were the four who had accompanied the tram here? He got out his cell phone and called Mike Freeman.
“Freeman.”
“Mike, it’s Stone. We’ve got a situation at the presidential box. Do you see any Secret Service?”
“Yes, there are four of them standing right here. I’m twenty yards from the box.”
“Please bring them here now. And find out who is the senior agent.”
“On the way.”
Mike appeared with a man beside him, followed by two other men and one woman. “This is Special Agent Foster,” Mike said. Stone shook the man’s hand, held on to it and leaned in close. “Your boss, Agent Beam, is alone in the box with no other agents and behaving like a threat.” Stone handed him Beam’s silenced pistol. “I took this from him.”
The agent looked at the pistol and his eyebrows shot up. “That is a non-standard weapon,” he said.
“The NYPD chief of detectives is just inside the door. Beam is handcuffed with his own cuffs. I’ll bring him out, and you should take him away quietly and leave two agents inside the box. We don’t know if this is only a one-man threat.” The agent nodded. Stone opened the door and motioned Dino outside. Agent Foster was speaking with his fellow agents. Two of them took away Beam, who was now in tears, and Foster and the female agent followed Stone and Dino into the box and stood by the door as they took their seats again.
Hattie was halfway through Rhapsody in Blue, and Stone tried to enjoy it as his eyes raked the audience for further threats.
26
Hattie finished her performance, then Immi Gotham took the stage and sang her way through a repertoire of Gershwin, Rodgers and Hart, Jerome Kern, and Irving Berlin. The audience was transported — and Stone would have been, too, but he was still in his most watchful mode. However, by the concert’s rousing finish, no threat had appeared.
Everyone rose in a standing ovation, and Hattie, Immi, and the conductor took their bows. Stone’s guests in the box had begun making their way toward the outside door and the waiting tram when the president fell in beside him.
“What was all that about with Agent Beam?” he asked.
“You’ll be getting a new agent in charge of your detail,” Stone replied. “It appears that the threat Beam warned us about emanated directly from Beam himself. He’s in custody now, and I’m sure the detail is being reorganized as we speak.”
“Nothing like this has happened during my two terms of office,” Will said.
“And I expect nothing like it will happen again,” Stone said.
“Do you think Beam has collaborators?”
“I’m sure that will be thoroughly investigated, but my own opinion is that he does not. His behavior was very much that of a lone wolf, and deranged people don’t easily attract collaborators.”
“I hope you’re right,” Will said.
They got into the tram, and Mike Freeman appeared and took a seat next to Stone. “We’re holding Beam at our operations center,” Mike said. “Other agents from the L.A. Secret Service office are on their way to take charge of him, and the rest of the detail is in place.”
“The president asked if Beam had collaborators,” Stone said.
“I think not,” Mike replied.
The tram returned to Stone’s house without incident. He and his guests went into the house for drinks and a late supper, which was laid out as a buffet in the dining room. Martin Stanton, Mark Willingham, Pete Otero, and Dick Collins, and their respective wives, joined them, though Willingham had only a drink, then excused himself.
Ed Eagle introduced Stone to Otero, and Stone found him good company. His wife, Eagle told Stone, was half Navajo. During dinner, Stone managed a seat next to Governor Dick Collins. “Yours has been quite a performance,” Stone said to him.
“I’ve no idea what you’re referring to,” Collins replied with a smile.
“Nevertheless, everybody was impressed with what I’m referring to. Tomorrow night might have gotten rough after the first ballot.”
“Well, I’m sure we’ll have a good evening of balloting tomorrow night,” Collins said, then changed the subject.