2“You’re a sad case, Thompson.” Captain Baxter’s bullhorn voice echoed through the big Secret Service Ready Room in the West Wing’s ground floor. It made every agent look up, first at Baxter, then invariably following his glare (as clear as a laser on a foggy night) to the green grass stains all over his clothing.
Colby groaned. He just wasn’t going to get a break today. He’d handed off Ivy to security and was gunning for the clean shirt he kept in a desk drawer. The Ready Room was the largest contiguous room in the West Wing. Only the Situation Room was bigger, but it was chopped into eight or ten spaces, or so he’d heard. Even though he walked by it every time he came in the west entrance, he’d never walked through those guarded doors—which was fine with him. He’d seen the looks on the
