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candidate in the upcoming Super Tuesday primary. Despite his upset victory in New Hampshire and his efforts since, McSweeney’s campaign was faltering, and privately he felt he’d need a miracle to make it through the next month.
    He was about a quarter of the way through his list of calls when they reached the hotel. McSweeney took his time getting out of the car. A knot of people gathered on the opposite sidewalk. They were gawkers rather than well-wishers; McSweeney could tell from their expressions that they didn’t recognize him. That was a disappointment—his television spots had been in heavy rotation in the state for a week—but he didn’t let on, waving enthusiastically and urging them to remember him in the upcoming primary.
    Turning back toward the building, he began striding toward the lobby door. Each step stoked his confidence, and by the time he reached the edge of the red carpet in front of the glass, he felt invincible.
    Number three? Two? No way. He was going to surprise everyone. It was New Hampshire all over again.
    Something caught his attention and McSweeney turnedhis head to the right. He saw a figure in black clothes standing beyond a knot of tourists.
    The man had a gun.
    â€œGet down!” yelled someone. In the next moment, McSweeney felt himself falling to the ground.

 
8
    THERE WAS NOTHING in Frey’s description of the agent’s death that convinced Rubens it was anything but a suicide. The man was going through a painful divorce that promised to separate him from his children. Even Frey admitted that Forester could occasionally be moody and was most likely disappointed that he hadn’t advanced rapidly up the Secret Service hierarchy, despite early promise. And while Forester had handled literally hundreds of investigations during his career, he didn’t seem to have generated any enemies from them. The cases he had been working on before his death were typical ones as far as the Secret Service was concerned. The most serious involved an e-mailed death threat against a candidate for President—ironically, the candidate was Senator McSweeney, who had just finished grilling Rubens. Forester hadn’t closed out the inquiry, but Frey’s cursory review of the case made it appear there wasn’t much there.
    The state police and the local prosecuting attorney had made it clear that, as far as they were concerned, the agent had killed himself. But Frey had ordered the Service to conduct its own investigation.
    â€œThere are some interesting loose ends,” said Frey. “Before he died, Jerry received some e-mails that we’d like traced to the source.”
    Frey reached into his jacket pocket and took out two pieces of white paper, which had printouts of the e-mails. Both e-mails had a Yahoo return address, and there was standard header information.
    â€œThe e-mail address has been falsified,” said Frey. “It originated somewhere overseas. It says Vietnam, but we think that’s false. We’d like to know from where, of course.”
    Rubens took the paper. Among the Secret Service’s lesser-known duties was the investigation of identity theft, and the agency had its own array of computer experts. If they couldn’t trace it, Rubens thought, the message must be suspicious.
    â€œWe don’t have the e-mails that Forester sent,” added Frey. “I’m afraid we don’t know whether that is significant or not. He worked on the road a lot, and routinely would have ‘shredded’ sensitive information on his laptop. The e-mail would have been erased.”
    Rubens looked at the first e-mail.
Sir:
    Â 
    The business was a long time ago. All information long gone.
    Â 
    The second e-mail was much the same:
    Â 
    Sir:
    Â 
    I cannot be of assistance. Please.
    Â 
    â€œThe business?” asked Rubens.
    â€œI have no idea what it means. The e-mails seem to have come as he was investigating the