Product Description Michelle Maxwell has just wrecked her promising career at the Secret Service. Against her instincts, she let a presidential candidate out of her sight for the briefest moment and the man whose safety was her responsibility vanished into thin air. Sean King knows how the she feels. Eight years earlier, the hard-charging Secret Service agent allowed his attention to be diverted for a split second. And the candidate he was protecting was gunned down before his eyes. Now Michelle and Sean are about to see their destinies converge. Drawn into a maze of lies, secrets, and deadly coincidences, the two discredited agents uncover a shocking truth: that the separate acts of violence that shattered their lives were really a long time in the making-and are a long way from over... About the Author David Baldacci lives in Virginia. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Split SecondBy David BaldacciTime Warner AudioBooksCopyright © 2003David BaldacciAll right reserved.ISBN: 9781586215811Chapter OneEIGHT YEARS LATERThe motorcade streamed into the tree-shaded parking lot, where itdisgorged numerous people who looked hot, tired and genuinelyunhappy. The miniature army marched toward the ugly white brickbuilding. The structure had been many things in its time andcurrently housed a decrepit funeral home that was thriving solelybecause there was no other such facility within thirty miles and thedead, of course, had to go somewhere. Appropriately somber gentlemenin black suits stood next to hearses of the same color. A fewbereaved trickled out the door, sobbing quietly into handkerchiefs.An old man in a tattered suit that was too large for him and wearinga battered, oily Stetson sat on a bench outside the front entrance,whittling. It was just that sort of a place, rural to the hilt,stock car racing and bluegrass ballads forever.The old fellow looked up curiously as the procession passed by witha tall, distinguished-looking man ceremoniously in the middle. Theelderly gent just shook his head and grinned at this spectacle,showing the few tobacco-stained teeth he had left. Then he took anip of refreshment from a flask pulled from his pocket and returnedto his artful wood carving.The woman, in her early thirties and dressed in a black pantsuit,was in step behind the tall man. In the past her heavy pistol in thebelt holster had scraped uncomfortably against her side, causing ascab. As a solution she'd sewn an extra layer of cloth into herblouses at that spot and learned to live with any lingeringirritation. She'd overheard some of her men joke that all femaleagents should wear double shoulder holsters because it gave them abuxom look without expensive breast enhancement. Yes, testosteronewas alive and well in her world.Secret Service agent Michelle Maxwell was on the extreme fast track.She was not yet at the White House detail, guarding the president ofthe United States, but she was close. Barely nine years in theService, and she was already a protection detail leader. Most agentsspent a decade in the field doing investigative work before evengraduating to protection detail as shift agents, yet MichelleMaxwell was used to getting to places before other folks.This was her big preview before almost certain reassignment to theWhite House, and she was worried. This was an unscheduled stop, andthat meant no advance team and limited backup. Yet because it was alast-minute change in plan, the plus side was no one could know theywere going to be there.They reached the entrance, and Michelle put a firm hand on the tallman's arm and told him to wait while they scoped things out. Theplace was quiet, smelled of death and despair in quiet pockets ofmisery centered on coffins in each of the viewing rooms. She postedagents at various key points along the man's path: "giving feet" asit was called in Service parlance. Properly done, the simple act ofhaving a professional with a gun and communication capabil