and stared at Wilson for an uncomfortably long moment. “Based on your refusal to follow the most simple of orders I’m fairly certain my recommendation will be less than stellar.”
Wilson had been fairly certain this was how this little drama would play out, but in order to make it convincing he needed to follow his script. He blurted out the name. “Carl Ferris.”
Hargrave nearly choked. “You mean to tell me you launched an investigation based on innuendo from one of the biggest partisan hacks to ever serve in the United States Senate?”
Wilson played dumb. “I have no opinion on the man, sir. When a sitting U.S. senator asks for a private meeting I take it very seriously.”
“Good God, you fool,” Hargrave said haltingly. “I don’t believe for a second that you are that naive.” Hargrave was on his feet pacing now-his brain struggling for a way to unwind this potential mess before it saw the light of day. Carl Ferris was a master manipulator of the media and the supposed facts they reported.
Wilson offered an additional piece of information. “He told me you had it in for him.”
“Excuse me?”
“Senator Ferris told me that you didn’t like him. He wouldn’t get into specifics, but he said it had something to do with your days on the FISA bench.”
Hargrave turned to Wilson and said, “The issue he is alluding to is sealed and not up for discussion, but I can tell you that the senator did not comport himself well.”
“I don’t want to get in the middle of a pissing match between you two. What happened is none of my business.”
“There is no pissing match.” Hargrave didn’t like the way Wilson had turned this into a personal matter. “What’s at issue here is that you have once again failed to keep me informed of what you are up to and now you are about to get on a plane with one of my Go Teams and insert yourself into an extremely delicate situation.” Hargrave grabbed the back of one of the chairs and said, “Let me ask you something. Have you bothered to think of how our friends at the CIA are going to react when you show up and start sticking your nose in the middle of this mess?”
“Personally, I could care less what those Neanderthals at Langley think.”
Hargrave had encountered this type of behavior in others before and he knew how destructive it could be. “We are on the same team,” he said flatly.
“And my job is to make sure we stay on the same team.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“In my department no one is above suspicion. My job is to stop the enemy from penetrating our national security apparatus, and the easiest way for the enemy to do that is to get one of our people to turn on us.”
“What are you implying?”
“I’m implying nothing. The facts are that Joe Rickman is one of the darkest spooks this country has. He’s a walking, breathing encyclopedia of things that are so wrong it’s ridiculous. If he has been kidnapped it is our duty to offer Langley our capable assistance if for no other reason than that we need to get a handle on the breadth of the damage. We should be the coordinating agency, because God knows Langley will want to admit only a fraction of the possible damage. We need a full accounting of our exposure.”
Hargrave didn’t want to but he had to concede the point. Six months from now it might look very bad if he forced Counterespionage to sit this out. “I see where you’re coming from, but I want you to play nice.”
“I will be there to offer assistance in finding Rickman, and if along the way I see that any laws have been broken I will consult you before I move my investigation in a new direction.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear.”
Wilson smiled. There was no need to report his other concerns at this point. As Senator Ferris had already warned him, Hargrave wouldn’t believe them anyway. Wilson stood, saying, “Thank you, sir. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get moving.”
“One more thing, Joel. I want you to check in with me every day. I need to know what you’re up to.”
“I was planning on it, sir.”
Hargrave walked Wilson to the door and watched him leave. He didn’t believe for a second that Wilson was planning on keeping him informed, and he found it even less believable that Wilson was planning on simply aiding the CIA in finding Rickman. All things considered, though, he had to let him go. Rickman was a valuable asset and the FBI needed to make sure the broader national security interests were being looked after. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else going on here. Something that Wilson was keeping from him.
Chapter 5
Jalalabad, Afghanistan
Hubbard was clearly agitated. He’d gone over to the window to watch Zahir and his men leave. Rapp ignored him and took a moment to discuss something he wanted Coleman to follow up on. Rapp was just finishing his point when Hubbard approached them.
Hubbard blinked several times and asked Rapp, “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”
“I think so,” Rapp replied calmly.
“I’m not sure you do. That man is crazy.” Hubbard pointed toward the door as if Zahir was still there. “I have to work with him. What in the hell were you thinking?”
Rapp remained cool and said, “You can’t bribe a guy like that. He’ll screw you over in the end. Every time. The only way to deal with a guy like Zahir is to make him fear for his life.”
Hubbard was incredulous. “Darren is going to flip when he finds out. He’s worked nearly a year to bring Zahir back into the fold.”
At the mention of Sickles’s first name Rapp began to lose his grip. “Darren is an idiot.”
“Idiot or not, he’s my boss and the Agency’s top guy here in Afghanistan.”
“Are you done?” it was more of a warning than a question.
“No… I’m not done. I’m far from done. You’re going to be here for a week or two at the most and then you’ll head back to the States and I’ll have to deal with him. You don’t know shit about Zahir. He’s a ruthless son of a bitch. He’s probably going to kill me.”
“Then kill him first,” Rapp growled.
Hubbard looked at Rapp as if he’d lost his mind. “Darren’s his handler… I can’t kill him.”
“I’ll deal with Darren. In the meantime you need to grow a set of balls. The way you let him walk in here and talk to you. What the hell is wrong with you? You work for the damn Agency, Hub, not the State Department. Start acting like it, or find another job. Shit… you’ve got mercenaries, former Taliban, Northern Alliance, former coalition Special Forces… they’re all hanging out looking to make a buck. You could have gone to Rick, given him ten or twenty grand, and found fifteen guys that’d be willing to shoot the prick in the head when he left his house in the morning.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Really?” Rapp asked, his jaw clenched with anger. “Well, then I must be frickin’ Superman, because I’ve lost track of how many scumbags like Zahir I’ve plugged over the years. It’s not fuckin’ rocket science,” Rapp said, poking Hubbard in the chest.
“Darren would lose his mind,” Hubbard said in his own defense.
“I just told you, I’ll deal with Darren.” Rapp couldn’t wait to get his hands on the pencil-pushing prick. “Right now I need you to work every source you have. Start shaking the trees and find out what happened to Rick, and if you run into Zahir and he so much as looks at you the wrong way I want you to call me. Do you understand?”
Hubbard slowly nodded, knowing it was unwise to continue to push the point with Rapp. “Yeah, I’ll get on it.”
“Good, and remember we need to move fast.” Rapp heard his name called from upstairs. He looked at the staircase and then back at Hubbard. He slapped the taller man on the shoulder and said, “Remember who we are, Hub. Don’t take any crap… especially for the next fortyeight hours. If we don’t get Rick back, Zahir is going to be the least of our problems.”
Hubbard moved toward the door. Coleman stood at Rapp’s side, his. 45 caliber H amp;K hanging loosely at
