The Survivor (33 page)

“We don't want to test those assertions, Ahmed. Even a thwarted attack would be a disaster. We need to demonstrate that we're in control and project Pakistan as a stable, modern country. A worthy ally for our American friends.”

“I completely understand, sir.”

The president waved to someone and Taj glanced back to see the infamously volatile Obaid Marri jabbing one of the waitstaff in the chest. Spittle actually flew from his mouth as he berated the man. Most people thought it was the arrogance wrought from his restaurant receiving its third Michelin star, but Taj knew that wasn't true. Obaid had been this way since he was a child.

“Have you met the chef, Ahmed?”

“I haven't had the pleasure.”

“Come, I'll introduce you.”

Marri spotted them approaching and gave the man a shove toward the kitchen. When Pakistan's most renowned restaurateur turned toward them, his red face had turned respectful.

“Obaid!” Chutani said, embracing the man. “I'm honored that you've come to personally oversee the setup.”

“Everything
must be perfect, Mr. President. And I fear your staff is . . .” His voice trailed off.

“Incompetent,” Chutani said with a tolerant grin.

“I was going to say ‘in need of polish.' ”

“I'm certain you were.” The president indicated to Taj. “I don't think you've met Ahmed.”

Marri extended his hand. To his credit, there wasn't so much as a hint of recognition in his eyes—only a slight nervousness that was hardly uncommon when faced with the head of the vaunted ISI. “It's a pleasure, Director.”

“The pleasure is mine.”

Marri was from a village not far from where Taj had grown up. Their fathers had regular business dealings and the two boys had known each other since they were toddlers. More important, Marri shared Taj's thirst for power and vision for Pakistan.

“Have you eaten at Obaid's restaurant?” Chutani asked.

“I'm afraid I haven't had the opportunity.”

“You must make the time. It's truly magnificent.”

“Mr. President, please . . .” Marri protested halfheartedly.

Kabir Gadai appeared on the opposite side of the room and immediately began trying to get Taj's attention. Excellent timing, as usual. Marri was doing well with their meeting, but it was dangerous to put the man under too much stress. While he had enthusiastically agreed to be part of this plan, in the end he was just a cook.

“Would you excuse me?” Taj said. “My assistant seems desperate to speak to me and I want to make sure it's nothing urgent.”

“Of course,” Chutani said. “Thank you, Ahmed.”

He started toward Gadai, who was disconnecting a call and slipping his phone into his pocket.

“We released another Rickman file this morning,” he said, leaning into Taj's ear. “It was all we needed. Our people have tracked it to an Internet service provider in Russia.”

Taj nodded solemnly. It was another in a long line of miracles bestowed on him by God. There was no other explanation. He would
soon control not only a nuclear arsenal but America's entire intelligence network.

“I want you to go personally.”

“But—”

“No arguments, Kabir. I trust no one else in this matter.”

“Of course,” Gadai said, clearly reluctant but wise enough not to press the issue. “My team is assembling as we speak.”

T
HE
W
HITE
H
OUSE

W
ASHINGTON,
D.C.

U.S.A.

W
HEN
Irene Kennedy entered the Oval Office, President Josh Alexander immediately strode across the room to shake her hand. The former Alabama quarterback had the gait of an athlete despite having turned fifty-one a few months before. His sandy brown hair was still thick and the elongated dimples that had so captivated the press were still noticeable when he smiled.

Not everything was the same as when they'd first met, though. The suits that had been a bit too shiny now exuded understated elegance. Teeth that had been a few shades too white now were more in keeping with the constituents he served. And a little gray had cropped up at his temples as it always seemed to with men in his position.

Despite the fact that he kept as much political distance as he could from her—and even more so from Mitch Rapp—she admired the man. He understood and accepted that he couldn't stay entirely clean in the fight they were in.

“It's been too long,” Alexander lied. “Always good to see you, Irene.”

“I appreciate your time, Mr. President.”

“You know Barbara and Carl.”

Barbara Lonsdale didn't get up from the sofa, but raised a hand in greeting. She was the chair of the Senate Intelligence Committee and at one time had been the CIA's most rabid detractor. After her closest friend was killed in a terrorist attack, though, she'd had a change of heart.

Carl Ferris, in contrast, did rise. He came toward her with his hand outstretched.

“I appreciate you including me on this,” he said, though he knew full well that she had nothing to do with approving the attendees at a White House meeting.

Kennedy wondered how his new legal and marketing teams were coming along with spinning his relationship with the late Akhtar Durrani. The senator's arrogant smile and attempt to crush her hand suggested that their work was going well.

“I hope you don't mind,” Alexander said. “Carl asked to be here, and I thought it wouldn't hurt to have the Judiciary Committee's input. More importantly, though, he's going to Pakistan with Sunny's delegation and he's understandably concerned about his safety.”

“Actually, I'm glad we're finally connecting. I've been trying to get in touch with him about his meeting with Ahmed Taj.”

“Really?” Alexander said, obviously surprised that Ferris had met the ISI director without his knowledge.

“My schedule since I got back has been extremely hectic, Director Kennedy. And the meeting was purely social. Ahmed invited me to his office for a drink.”

A rather sloppy lie since the man was a devout Muslim. It was far more likely that they discussed how expensive Ferris's new people would be and how they would be paid.

Everyone sat and Alexander refrained from offering her tea, as was his custom. Undoubtedly the oversight was intended as a subtle display of displeasure—one she'd pick up on but that would be missed by the others.

“I know Irene won't mind if we dispense with the pleasantries and get right to business. The Rickman situation. First let me say that
trying to assign blame is a waste of time at this point and very much not on the agenda. What we need to talk about is a resolution. Ignoring for the moment minor players like Fahran Hotaki in Afghanistan, this thing has caused us serious problems with Russia and the Iranians.”

“A complete disaster,” Ferris added.

Alexander frowned at the interruption. There was no love lost between him and the chairman of the Judiciary Committee, but Ferris was a powerful man and he couldn't be ignored.

“Now I'm told we've had another leak this morning,” Alexander continued. “In Saudi Arabia this time. Irene, could you brief us on that?”

She nodded respectfully. “Mohammed Kattan, a high-level employee at Saudi Aramco, was exposed as a CIA informant. We were able to notify him and he made it to the U.S. embassy in Riyadh.”

“Not necessarily helpful,” Ferris interjected, struggling to sound solemn.

While his thinly veiled glee was despicable under the circumstances, he wasn't wrong. Rickman had given them just enough time to warn the man but not enough for an extraction. He'd wanted to create an international incident where the Saudis would demand their citizen's return and the United States would refuse. It had worked beautifully. The demonstrations around the embassy were growing in intensity and had the potential to turn violent at any moment.

“Irene,” Alexander admonished. “We have an agreement with the Saudis that we don't spy on each other.”

“Completely ignored by both sides,” Barbara Lonsdale said, speaking for the first time in the meeting.

“True. But that mutual understanding only works when no one gets caught.”

“With all due respect,” Lonsdale said. “Screw the Saudis. They're the biggest supporters of terror on the planet and their treatment of women is beyond disgusting.”

“They're also the major force in OPEC and this country runs on oil,” Ferris said. “You
can make all the moral arguments you want, but the American people aren't ready for ten-dollar-a-gallon gas.”

“Look,” the president said, leaning forward and propping his elbows on his knees. “We've dealt with the Russians, and the Saudis are going to kick up some dust that we can handle. The situation with the Iranians is different. It's going to set back our negotiations at least a year. But, honestly, I've never been sure if those talks are going anywhere or if I'm just falling on my political sword over nothing.”

Alexander was being so understanding about Iran less out of benevolence and more due to the fact that the angry protests from Tehran had actually strengthened him politically. The American people were skeptical about his outreach policy and this demonstrated that he wasn't as naïve about the country as his opponents charged. A rare miscalculation by Rickman.

“This can't continue, though. We can't spend the next five years chasing leaks and groveling to foreign governments.”

When she didn't immediately answer, Ferris saw the chance he was waiting for. “Dr. Kennedy told me that Akhtar Durrani had kidnapped Rickman and was torturing him for information. Based on the fact that classified documents keep getting released after both men's deaths, this appears to not be true.”

She'd told him that in order to stop his grandstanding attempt to discredit the CIA. It had been a necessary measure to put out an immediate fire, but she'd known it would provide only brief cover. Perhaps she should have taken Rapp up on his offer to get rid of the problematic senator.

“It appears that Joe Rickman became unbalanced,” Kennedy admitted.

“You mean he's a traitor,” Ferris said.

“It's more complicated than that but, in the end, yes.”

“I don't understand how something like this can happen,” Ferris said, warming up to his subject. “First of all, why would he know anything about a Russian informant or an Iranian ambassador? Are you tacking top-secret files to the lunchroom bulletin board?”

“Spare
us the soapbox speech,” Barbara Lonsdale said. Alexander, on the other hand, remained silent. While he didn't want to assign blame, he wasn't above letting someone else do it.

“What does the CIA do?” Ferris continued. “Spy on people, right? Isn't that its whole multibillion-dollar purpose? Why wasn't Rickman being watched? Why was he exempted?”

“This is a difficult business full of difficult people,” Lonsdale said. “It happened. Now let's figure out how to fix it.”

“You can downplay this all you want, Barbara, but it's a disaster. An
ongoing
disaster. Apparently, Dr. Kennedy has no clue what Rickman knew or how he got the information. How many files are there? Ten? A hundred? A thousand? And why would we think Rickman would lead with his best stuff? I wouldn't. What did he know that I don't? Hell, what did he know that President Alexander doesn't? What we've seen so far might just be the tip of the iceberg. But we don't know if that's the case and neither does Dr. Kennedy. Are we certain that her other people and operations are secure? Because, with all due respect, she doesn't seem to know.”

“What are you proposing, Carl?” Lonsdale said. “Disbanding the CIA?”

“What do they really do for us?” Ferris said. “Occasionally solve a problem that they themselves created? At the very least, I think it's time to consider a complete restructuring of the organization.”

“Maybe we should get rid of the military while we're at it?” Lonsdale said sarcastically.

Ferris shrugged. “Almost a trillion dollars a year and they haven't been able to deliver a clear win since the Japanese surrendered in '45. Obviously, the United States needs a strong defensive force, but I wonder if that couldn't be achieved for half the current budget.”

“I think we're getting well off the subject at hand,” Alexander said.

Ferris grinned. “My apologies, Mr. President. As you know, I have a passion for theoretical tangents.”

Ferris could be dangerously charming when he chose to be. The very real prospect that he could become president and turn some of his bizarre
philosophical musings into legislation was terrifying to Kennedy.

“Irene,” Alexander said. “Where are we with plugging these leaks?”

“We have a strong lead, and it's my hope that we'll be able to stop them shortly.”

The president was no happier with her response than she herself was. “I'm getting hammered on this, Irene. From our enemies, from our allies, from voters. And all you can give me is that you're working on it?”

“Rickman was a brilliant man,” she said honestly. “That's why he was in the position he was. I'm confident that we're going to resolve the issue but I'm reluctant to make promises I may not be able to keep.”

“I suppose that's the end of that conversation, then,” Alexander said, not bothering to hide his frustration. “What about Sunny's delegation going to Pakistan? Things are looking pretty volatile over there and I'm sure Carl would prefer not to find himself in the middle of a Taliban attack.”

“I'm really not that concerned,” Ferris said.

Kennedy noted his response with interest. Ferris cared only about himself and had proven over and over to be a coward on virtually every level. His sudden lack of interest in his own safety flew in the face of everything she knew about the man.