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President Benjamin Asher was spending a week with his son Connor in Lake Placid over the Christmas holiday. At least, that’s what the press release had said. The paps (or reporters, as they liked to be called, Mike thought) had gotten two days worth of photos of the two of them skiing, enjoying hot cocoa and s’mores, and visiting the museum dedicated to the 1980 U.S. Olympic Men’s Hockey Team.When he remembered the patriotic fervor following their huge win against the then-Soviet Union team (that he’d noticed even as a 10-year old was telling), Mike thought that using Lake Placid as the staging area for this mission was appropriate. Because on Day Three, the President was nowhere to be seen. Stuck in an office doing the country’s business even on vacation, was the official story.In reality, Michael Banning, head of the Presidential Protection Detail, and President Asher had been snuck out of the private lodge in a van that had delivered a catered meal that morning, wearing the same uniforms the deliverymen (two of Mike’s most trusted agents) had worn into the lodge, including caps that hid their faces.Mike drove the van into the village of Lake Placid and parked at the back of the restaurant whose name was stenciled on the side of it. In the back of the van they removed the caterer uniforms and pulled on winter coats over their everyday clothes. Jeans and a sea foam green sweater that complimented his green eyes would do a lot to make the President unrecognizable to most of the general public, who were used to seeing him in suits.But not to Mike. He shook himself and went through the ritual of touching every gun (that he was wearing, anyway) before pulling on a Montreal Canadiens cap and handing one to Ben. The President. Mike really needed to stop thinking about the President’s eyes and thinking of him by his name.Mike grinned when the President shook his head at the emblem, but put on the cap anyway. “Is all of this subterfuge really necessary?”“If it keeps you alive.” Mike hefted the two duffel bags he’d packed – some with additional clothes they might need, but mostly with back-up weapons – and they got out of the van.Mike put the two bags into the back seat of the white SUV and climbed into the driver’s seat. It didn’t look like a Secret Service vehicle, but had the most important feature in common: bulletproofing. He waited for the President to get in, then started the vehicle.The drive to the Canadian border at Blackpool would take a little over an hour, but they weren’t taking the direct route. Mike took Route 9 to 87 North. He got off at Route 11, just outside Champlain.“Why are we getting off here?”“Because we’re not crossing at Blackpool.”“Why not?”“Because that’s where they’ll be expecting us to cross.”“Who’s they?”Mike gave the President a look. “Whoever it is we’re hiding this covert mission from.”The President gave a shrug that conceded the point. “Where are we crossing, then?”Mike grinned. “Someplace else.”“Oh god. I’m not going to have to snowshoe the rest of the way, am I?”Mike laughed; his first real laugh since the President told Mike what he planned to do.~*~Heading east on Route 11 took them to Lake Champlain and then north along the lake. Mike turned onto Route 2, which would take them across a portion of the lake to Vermont.“We’re not continuing into Canada?”“We need to cross where there won’t be a record of it.”“So we’re going to Vermont?”“We’re going to Vermont.”Mike felt very exposed while they were over the water. He didn’t feel much better when they were on land again. This whole thing could go wrong in so many ways, and a PR nightmare was the best case scenario.Ben . . . the President was going out on a limb taking this meeting. Some powerful people wouldn’t be happy about it, including some in the United States. Ben . . . damn it! What the hell, Mike sighed. Ben was doing it because he believed in supporting democracy around the world, but meeting with the leader of a rogue faction, even one that purported to want to bring democracy to their country, which was currently a dictatorship, could result in a lot of blow back.Mike’s phone rang. Not his personal or work phone – both of those were back at lodge along with Ben’s – but a burner. “What is it?” he said instead of a greeting. If he was getting a call, something had happened.“They were stopped at the border and the SUV searched,” Director Lynne Jacobs said. “Someone called in a tip about drugs.”Mike had sent a decoy Secret Service SUV off to Blackpool a half hour after Mike and Ben left in the catering van so they’d have a head start before their deception was discovered.“Doesn’t matter that they didn’t find any drugs, because all the tipster wanted was to out the President as being in Canada,” Mike said.“Hmm,” was Jacob’s reply.“You know what that means.”“Yes. We have a leak. We’ll work on that on our end, you just work on staying safe because you know they’ll be scrambling now and looking at every vehicle that left Lake Placid headed north.”“We’ll have dumped this vehicle before they realize it’s the one,” Mike said and disconnected the call.“We’re dumping this vehicle?”“Yep?”“For what?”Mike took a left onto a back road called Blair Road. “Do you trust me, Ben? Mr. President.”“Can it just be Ben for now, Mike?”Mike’s breath caught. “Yeah, sure. Ben.”Ben nodded. “Good. Now, to answer your question, yes, I’d trust you with my life. But not to not be an asshole.”That startled a laugh out of Mike. “Fair enough, sir. Ben. As for our next mode of transportation, we’re almost there so you’ll see very soon. There’s a sign ahead.”“Horses?” Ben said when he saw the sign for a riding stable, sounding horrified..“Not that sign.”“Cabins?”“People come up here to enjoy winter sports, such as show shoeing and skiing.”“But not us?”Mike grinned. “Not us.”“Which means you’re not going to tell me.”“It’s a surprise.” Mike’s grin widened.“I hate surprises.”Ten minutes later Mike pulled the SUV up to a cabin. There was no other vehicle in sight and Mike could sense Ben’s confusion and growing frustration.“Come on.” Mike slid out of the SUV without waiting for Ben, knowing he’d follow.At the side of the cabin was an overhang that protected a stack of firewood and . . . Mike pulled off the tarp with a flourish.“A snowmobile?”“A snowmobile. Let’s go put on our winter gear.”Once suited up in white snow suits to blend into the terrain, extra guns in whatever pocket Mike could find, and a pack with water and emergency supplies just in case on Ben’s back, Mike headed out to pull out the snowmobile and put the SUV in its place. The white would blend in with the snow, but their enemies would be looking for it eventually, so Mike covered the back of it as best he could with the tarp to help keep it hidden as much as possible.Mike handed Ben a helmet. “Safety first, sir. Ben.”Ben took it, shaking his head. “Exactly how are we getting across the border?”“An old smuggler’s trail.”“How did you learn about an old smuggler’s trail in Vermont?”“I did my homework.”Ben made a frustrated sound.“I heard an interesting story once. Seemed far-fetched, but I filed it away. When we needed a way into Canada undetected I looked into it. Turns out it was true. Enough for our purposes, anyway.”Mike looked Ben over. “Okay, you ready?”“As I’ll ever be.”Mike got on the snowmobile and Ben got on behind him. “Hold on!” Mike said before starting forward.They didn’t speak again until they were across the border when Mike stopped at the designated area to switch vehicles again.“That trail seemed pretty clear for an old smuggler’s trail,” Ben said after he’d removed the helmet.“Something to think about later, sir. Ben.” Mike sighed. “It should probably be ‘sir’ from here on out.”“Probably,” Ben . . . the President agreed. “But maybe we can find some other times when it can be just Ben.”Ben turned away before Mike could respond. It was dangerous to think about, but Mike found himself wanting that more than anything.“I presume we can get rid of these snow suits now?”“You presume correctly. Mr. President,” Mike added, infusing some extra warmth into it, even though he knew he should let it go. Mike couldn’t be sure, given they were both wearing ski masks, but he thought Ben blushed. Yep, dangerous. And yet so compelling.Once they’d used another cabin, this one more of a shack, to remove the snow suits and make themselves as presentable as they could with no running water, they climbed into a very un-Presidential Nissan Rogue with Canadian plates.Mike got on the Chem. de la 4 Consession and headed north. He made a left onto Mnt Leduc and a few minutes later drove through Fadden Corner. Their destination was a few miles outside the hamlet. A little used private road took them to the house that Mike was tempted to call a mansion. The security looked to be private, but Mike knew a Mountie when he saw one.Still, Mike looked around carefully as he exited the vehicle before he walked around to let Ben out. He was surprised that he’d waited, given all the precautions they’d taken to get here, but Ben knew how seriously Mike took his duty to protect him, so probably stayed put so Mike didn’t have a panic attack.As Ben slid out of the front passenger seat, the front door to the house opened. Robert Bowman stepped out onto the porch.“President Asher, welcome to Canada!”“Prime Minister Bowman, thank you for having me.”When Ben reached the porch he took the hand Bowman extended. “Robert.”“Ben. Good to see you.”“And you. Has our guest arrived?”“He has.”Both men disappeared into the house. Mike itched to follow Ben . . . Ben, he scoffed. That’s why he didn’t let himself think about the President as Ben, because once he did he couldn’t stop. His control was usually much tighter than this.This meeting wasn’t for anyone but the three men involved so Mike turned to the head of Bowman’s security and introduced himself. “Show me around?”Craig Simmons knew exactly what Mike meant and spent the next fifteen minutes showing and explaining their security to him. The meeting lasted three hours before they broke for a late lunch, during which time Ben thankfully touched base with Mike, and then another two hours after they’d eaten.Part of Mike wished he knew what they were talking about – other than the generalities of replacing a dictatorship with a democracy – and part of him was glad he didn’t. Making those kinds of decisions wasn’t in his job description, thankfully. What he did know was that Ben was taking a huge risk with this meeting. Mike hated it, and was also proud of him for following his conscience.The meeting finally over, they began the trip back to Lake Placid. It went more quickly this time because they didn’t have to be as cautious. A helicopter took them to Blackpool where a black SUV awaited them. The ride back was quiet. Ben was probably digesting everything he’d heard and promised at the meeting. Mike was lamenting the true end of this moment in time when Ben could be Ben out loud instead of just inside his head.They were back at the lodge in time for supper followed by more s’mores around the fire pit. Mike loved s’mores, but they made his fingers sticky, which would be bad if he needed to pull his weapon in a hurry in defense of Ben or Connor. Still, he couldn’t refuse Connor, and besides, there were other agents there if Mike’s sticky fingers caused him to lose a second. He’d just have to make sure to lick them clean.Mike caught Ben’s eyes across the fire. The look Ben sent him spoke of a shared secret, and Mike didn’t think it was about the confidential meeting that had taken place just hours before. Very unprofessionally, Mike found himself wondering when would be the next moment he’d be able to call the President ‘Ben’ out loud, and looking forward to it more than he should be.The End