Detective Danny Cavanaugh 01 - The Brink

face bulged. It seemed like he could burst out of Danny’s impromptu cage any second.
    Danny put his thumb on the gun’s hammer. He imagined cocking it before he did it. It would then only take the slightest bit of pressure, and Jack Butcher would be dead. Danny couldn’t have the death of a president on his hands, accident or not. But he didn’t dare take his thumb off the hammer either. He knew the mind games that spun during moments like these probably better than the Secret Service agents did. He had no doubt seen more action in the line of duty than they had. He couldn’t do anything that looked weak. He decided the only thing to do was to stare down every agent, starting with the short, balding one to his far left.
    From left to right. Read them like the open books that they are.
    “You heard the president. Stand down.” It was Peter Devon. The words shot purposefully from his mouth.
    Like showgirls in a line, the agents moved one by one, laying their guns on the ground.
    “Now your radios, earpieces, and mikes,” the president ordered. “Take them off and throw them in the middle of the room.”
    President Butcher tugged away from Danny. He collected the communication equipment and, except for one set that he gave Danny, threw them into the empty fireplace at the far end of the room. He did the same with the agents’ guns except for one, which he held firmly in both hands.
    “What’s the best way to make sure they stay here, Sergeant?” the president asked Danny.
    Danny thought for only a moment before ordering the agents. “Take out your handcuffs, both sets, and your keys to them. Throw the keys in the middle of the floor and then handcuff yourself to the person next to you with both sets of cuffs.” Danny waited for them to perform the procedure. “You two on the end, take your empty handcuffs, strap one shackle to your wrist and the other one to the radiator.”
    Simon Shilling spoke as the agents trudged over to the radiator and shackled themselves to it. “Honestly, Mr. President, is this really necessary? Now you’re tying up your own detail when there’s a security alert in the building? You’re not thinking—”
    “Shut up, Simon! You were the only one I told about Cavanaugh going to the Metro station!”
    Simon’s eyes became slits. “I didn’t tell anyone about him going to the station, Mr. President.”
    “We’ll see if that’s true then, won’t we?”
    “Mr. President, I agree with Mr. Shilling,” Peter Devon said. “There is a security breech in the building, sir. You need at least one of us—”
    The president cut him off. “Pete, I don’t know what’s going on here in my house, on my watch! Sergeant Cavanaugh is the only one who isn’t a part of us! He’s the only one I can trust!” The president smirked. “Besides, I’m a big boy and we’ve got guns. I’m sure we can take care of ourselves.”
    Danny collected the keys from the floor and tucked them into his pocket. “Agent Devon, give me the details of the security alert.”
    Peter Devon was no longer trying to show off for his crew. He had witnessed a president throw himself into harm’s way for something other than himself, much like Devon had been doing for most of his career. He looked over at the president, and Jack Butcher nodded.
    “Ms. Dumas needed to use the restroom. The agent assigned to guard her, Laura Downing, was found unconscious in the ladies’ room on the East Wing basement level. Her weapon is missing.”
    “You know how to get there, sir?” Danny asked the president.
    The president nodded. “Let’s get going.” He started for the door that led into the Oval Office and then stopped. “Pete, how’s Agent Downing doing?”
    “She’s stable, sir. They’re taking her to the infirmary now.”
    The president jogged out of Simon’s office with Danny on his heels. They were halfway across the Oval Office when the president tucked the agent’s pistol in his waistband underneath the back of his suit jacket.
    “You better hide your weapon unless you want to have every member of my staff on you like stink on shit.”
    Danny tucked Devon’s pistol underneath his shirt. “Mr. President, I don’t want to kill our momentum here, but Simon and the agents could just start yelling for help.”
    “Pete won’t let them.” The president reached the door that led into the Oval’s waiting area.
    “Why not?”
    The president turned to Danny. “Because Agent Devon realizes I need