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Noa listens carefully as Liam talks about his friendship with Captain Spencer Webster—Doc—their time together in Afghanistan, and how Spencer later got to the White House Medical Unit.
She nearly shivered when Liam repeated the phrase the doctor said.
Our president is a full-fledged paranoid.
Liam says, “Last night, I tried to convince him to pass that information along to somebody, anybody, who could do something withit. He refused. But a few hours ago, he called me, saying he changed his mind. Thought of his kids. Wondered what kind of future was ahead for them. He agreed to meet with me again, talking to me on his cell. An hour later, he was dead. Shot in the head in a parking lot. Apparent robbery, the DC cops say.”
Noa says, “It could just be an awful coincidence.”
“No. Not ever. Not with Doc. He had too much situational awareness to be caught like that. No, either the president or someone working for him knew about our meeting and were monitoring his cell. Maybe even mine.”
Noa says, “If that’s true, Liam, you might be next.”
“Right.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Me?” Liam says. His next words seem so out of place and bizarre in a typical quiet suburban parking lot of a Walmart. “Noa, I’m going straight to the director, confess all.”
“That’s a career-ender, going around the chain of command.”
“Don’t care,” Liam says.
“Me neither,” Noa says. “I’m going with you.”
CHAPTER 67
CIA DIRECTOR HANNAH Abrams says, “Good job, Jean. Didn’t expect it so soon.”
Her deputy director yawns, and without fail, Hannah yawns as well.
It’s been a very long and grueling forty-eight hours since she was sworn in as director in the Oval Office by President Barrett. So far, that little ceremony has been the highlight of her career.
Jean says, “There’s a cadre of pros in the Agency who are glad you are back and are going to go the extra distance for you, Director. In the meantime, we still don’t have the full picture yet on Benjamin Lucas. There are some inconsistencies that need to be nailed down.”
Hannah runs her hands across the thick manila folders, opens two of them, starts glancing through them both. “Liam Grey and Noa Himel. Good, solid backgrounds, equally solid careers in Operations. No disciplinary actions or letters of reprimand. Exactly the operators we claim to Congress we have throughout the Agency. And then, a couple of months ago, they drop out.”
Jean says, “On orders President Barrett gave to Acting Director Milton Fenway, Liam and Noa were given authority to recruit fromwithin the Agency and the military to form two separate teams, and that’s all we’ve got. Paperwork is minimal so far, with their salaries being logged in the President’s Special Access Account.”
Hannah nods. “POTUS’s own slush fund, when you want to try to kill Castro or fund the Contras or subsidize an Israeli bunker-buster bomb to use in Iran. It would be nice to get a briefing from Milton, but we still don’t know where he is, right?”
“Not yet. But we’re working it. Along with that other thing you asked for.”
Hannah picks up a third folder with distaste, like she’s picking up something nasty that the cat had deposited on the kitchen floor at two a.m.
“Carlton Pope,” she says. “Good God, how did this … creature get to be at the president’s side?”
Jean says, “Carlton Pope, previously a sergeant assigned to the 615th Military Police Company, of the 709th Military Police Battalion, stationed in Grafenwöhr, Germany. Did two tours in Kosovo during the renewal of hostilities years back. During his second tour his unit provided protection to the 809th Military Intelligence Battalion, commanded by Colonel Keegan Barrett.”
“Remind me of the nasty bits,” Hannah says.
“There was a temporary facility set up for processing prisoners from Serb militia units operating in the area. There were at least three complaints filed against Sergeant Pope for excessive force, one case leading to the death of a prisoner. Not sure how it happened, but all three charges against him were broomed. Next time we hear from him, he’s been an honorably discharged graduate of George Washington University and think-tank employee. When Barrett announced his campaign, Pope volunteered and POTUS rewarded him with a top job in the White House. Does that make any sense at all?”
Jean says not a word, and Hannah yawns again, picks up a cup of coffee, takes a strong sip, realizes it’s cold.
She doesn’t care.
Hannah finishes it off.