I handed her my cell number and replied, “If you need me, call.”
“You call when you don’t need me,” she said, handing me her digits as well. “Now it’s time to go to work.” We were both ready.
Agent Johnson, two other agents, and I were each assigned to one of four groups that would be rotating to protect Reverend Stokes. Each detail had a team leader and four other Secret Service members. To make each team have six people, us temps filled in the last slot.
When I walked into a downtown Atlanta Marriott conference room on Monday morning for my first meeting with my group, the four people looking back at me were a little intimidating. They stared me up and down and gave me the feeling that they weren’t too pleased to have me on their team. I knew it was the fact that I wasn’t really one of them, but I didn’t care, though. Three were men, one of whom was African-American, and one was another female.
Our detail leader, Agent Ben Moss, whose name was on my piece of paper, yelled for me to take a seat and then said, “You’re late, Ware. In the Secret Service we don’t tolerate tardiness. We were just about to introduce ourselves.”
I wanted to tell him that I’d just gotten in from Brunswick. But why bother, I thought, as I watched him pace the floor and get in the other agents’ faces like a drill sergeant. It was clear that leaders in law enforcement loved enforcing power. After going back and forth for a few seconds, Agent Moss approached the other African-American on the team and barked an order for him to get up and identify himself.
The man stood at rigid attention. “Agent Randy Pitts,” he stated. “From the Baltimore office.” Agent Pitts was completely bald, and looked to be only in his forties. “And I’m very happy to be assigned to this detail,” he added.
When Moss nodded for him to sit back down, Randy Pitts gave me a reassuring smile. Okay, so at first glance I was wrong. Maybe I would fit in just fine.
Agent Jack Sawyer from the Biloxi, Mississippi, office was the next to introduce himself. He was thirtysomething, had a bald spot in the middle of the brown hair on his head. It wasn’t hard to imagine him standing in front of a trailer, holding a beer.
“Unlike Agent Pitts here,” Sawyer said in a grave voice, “I am not particularly thrilled with this assignment. Personally, I think protecting this candidate is a waste of the agency’s money. However, I am here and I will do my job.”
“Pitts, you may sit. And from this point forward we’re keeping all personal thoughts out of this assignment,” Agent Moss said commandingly.
The other female agent identified herself as Kelly Regunfuss from the Boston office. She also looked to be in her thirties. She had a smile that reminded me of a teddy bear. I could not see us hanging out, but I thought it’d be cool to work with her.
The last guy, Agent Ryan Hold, could have passed for a high-school student with his boyish, freckled face and naïve expression. He was from the Los Angeles office. “I’m thirty-two, so don’t let the youthful face fool you.” He nodded curtly at Moss. “I’ve been an agent for ten years.”
When it was my turn to introduce myself, all the faces seemed quite uninterested. Their blank expressions made me inwardly hope I made the right decision about accepting this assignment. Before I could speak, Agent Moss told them who I was. The cold way he presented me made me not that interested in myself. However, I knew I wasn’t there to make friends. I had a job to do. So when he was done telling them about my career in law enforcement, I waved and sat down.
For the rest of the afternoon, Moss told us everything about Reverend Stokes’s schedule and habits. We each received a detailed diagram of the man’s house and were told to memorize every inch of it. Then Agent Moss paired us off. He and Agent Pitts were teamed together and would mostly handle surveillance and guard steps in front of the protectee. Agents Sawyer and Regunfuss would handle coverage from the sides and the rear. That meant that their job was to respond to fire if we were under attack. Agent Hold and I were given the assignment of being closest to the protectee at all times.
“Agent Ware, this means that you do not go with your instinctive FBI training. You flee from danger—you don’t run to it and try and capture the bad guy. Get the protectee out of there,” Agent Moss said to me before we went through a role-playing drill.
I thought I had the protectee mentality first down pat. All was going well. Agent Hold and I were posted beside the dummy protectee and we were carrying him around. But when blank bullets came from my left, I immediately drew my gun and started shooting back. Agent Moss blew his whistle and everyone surrounded me.
Agent Sawyer smirked and said, “That’s why I detest having to work with agents from the treasury department. They don’t understand how we do things.”
“Quiet, Sawyer,” Agent Moss said before he got in my face and attacked me. “Ware, do you realize our protectee would be dead right now because of your little act of heroics?”
“Sorry, sir.”
Agent Moss continued angrily, “You try apologizing to a dead man’s family. Agent Sawyer and Agent Regunfuss were to handle defense. If you can’t train your mind to remember this one task, then you need to leave now. You’ve got to be willing to trust other agents to cover your back, your partner’s, and the protectee’s.”
He didn’t give me a chance to respond. He turned and walked out of the room, followed by Agents Pitts and Regunfuss.
“She needs to leave,” Agent Sawyer said to my partner before he exited as well.
Agent Hold touched my shoulder. “Don’t mind them. You’ll do fine.”
I nodded. “Thanks, Agent Hold.”
“You can call me Ryan,” he said kindly. “If we’re gonna be working together, I say let’s throw out the formality.”
Shaking his hand, I said, “Then call me Chris. Or Ware. I like either one. I might make other mistakes, so feel free to check me on the side.”
“Would have done it anyway, but glad to hear you won’t take it personally.” He leaned to my ear. “Agent Moss and the others were really impressed with your background. So really, we’re all honored to work with you.”
The following day we all meet at seven P.M. in front of the hotel to head out on assignment to cover the night-shift rotation. I hadn’t spoken to any of them that day. I wasn’t feeling the best, so I slept in for much-needed rest.
Agent Moss walked over to me and said, “So I see you’ve decided to stay with us.”
“Ready to protect and serve, sir,” I said without wavering.
“Glad to hear it,” he said as he motioned for us all to leave.
Moss and three of the team members climbed into a black van. I got in a black Lincoln Town Car with Ryan. We drove in silence to Reverend Stokes’s Mediterranean-style stucco mansion. The lawn was perfectly manicured—so rich, edged, and green. There were tall magnolia trees, precisely trimmed bushes, and bright flowers lining the sidewalk.
I hopped out of the car, eager to see what lay behind all those curtained windows. As we approached the house, I saw Agent Johnson from Brunswick training and his detail team getting into their vehicles. Moss rapped on the door, and a short, skinny maid answered. Without a word, she stepped aside to let us enter.
A sparkling marble floor brilliantly reflected the massive chandelier in the foyer. Every piece of furniture I could see was exquisite. I felt like I’d just entered a royal castle.
Reverend Stokes appeared, tall and handsome, from his office, dressed in an expensive gray suit. Agent Moss introduced the team members, and the black man amiably shook hands with each of us.
Moss introduced me last. Stokes welcomed me formally, as he had the others. But as the team headed down the hall to set up headquarters in a back room, Stokes grasped my elbow and