he and Shapiro had gone head-to-head over a National Intelligence Estimate in which Adkins had argued for the retention of the prisoner and interrogation facility at Guantanamo Bay.
“Over my dead body,” Shapiro had said flatly, and Adkins remembered wishing for just that.
They headed to the Oval Office, the West Wing bustling with activity this afternoon, and Adkins girded himself for what he knew was coming.
“You didn’t bring any briefing materials with you?” Shapiro asked. “The president has a number of serious issues he wants to discuss.”
“No, I brought nothing.”
“Top of the list is Kirk McGarvey. The man has become a menace, and the president wants him brought in.”
“Not such an easy job.”
“The CIA won’t be asked to handle it, we’re leaving it to the Bureau. But the president will want to have your advice. You know the man better than I do.”
Adkins almost called him a prick. “I wasn’t aware that you’d met him.”
“I never did,” Shapiro said. “But you know what I mean.”
Maybe asshole would have been a better word, Adkins decided.
President Joseph Langdon, a tall, ruggedly built man with features and mannerisms reminiscent of Lyndon Johnson, was seated at his desk in shirtsleeves, his tie loose, the directors of the FBI Benjamin Caffery and the National Security Agency Air Force Major General Warren E. Reed across from him. He looked up, a stern set to his mouth.
“I’m glad you’re here, finally. Now we can get started.” He nodded for Shapiro to join the meeting and to close the door.
No other chair had been set in front of the president’s desk, so Adkins was forced to remain standing. It was an insult.
“I want to know why better control wasn’t kept of McGarvey?”
“That was up to the Federal Marshals Service, Mr. President.”
“But he was in the custody of the CIA at Langley for debriefing. And prisoners accused of high crimes against the nation are generally not permitted to attend funerals. Especially uncuffed.”
“It was his son-in-law’s funeral.”
“It’s unfortunate. I’m told that Mr. Van Buren was an outstanding officer. But it changes nothing.”
“McGarvey is not guilty of treason.”
“Justice informs me otherwise,” the president said. “He will be brought in, and he will be prosecuted. Which is why you’re here. We want your input. You’ve worked for and with him for a number of years. Where has he gone? What will he do next?”
“I don’t know,” Adkins said. And he didn’t, though he had a fair idea that wherever he’d gone to ground it involved Otto Rencke, who’d also disappeared.
“Who killed his wife and daughter?” Caffery asked. He was a large man, with a round face and a WWII haircut, who in his six short months as the FBI’s director had already begun to develop the reputation of a man you never wanted to cross. A modern-day J. Edgar Hoover.
“Muslim extremists,” Shapiro answered for Adkins. “Roadside bombings have finally come to America. Although I don’t think anyone believes the target at Arlington was anyone other than McGarvey himself.”
“I agree, Frank,” Adkins said. “But it brings up the interesting question of just why your Muslim extremists wanted Kirk McGarvey dead?”
“Any number of reasons,” Shapiro shot back. “But the CIA would know more about that than I do. What’s the man been up to lately? I’ve seen no reports on his recent activities.”
“He was retired.”
Shapiro wanted to press the argument but Langdon held him off. “I’m sorry for Mr. McGarvey’s loss, but he’s brought many of his problems onto himself by his reckless actions.”
“In service of his country, Mr. President,” Adkins said, his voice rising. “Have you read his record, sir? His entire record?”
“You forget yourself,” Shapiro practically shouted.
“Do you people understand what sacrifices he’s made for his country?”
The president eyed him coldly then turned to Caffery. “How soon will you have McGarvey in custody?”
“It’s hard to give you an exact time table, Mr. President, but it will be soon. We believe he’s still in the Washington area. All public transportation venues are being watched twenty-four/seven, as are car rental companies. His photograph has been sent to every law enforcement agency within a one-hundred-mile radius of Arlington, and all of his known friends and associates are being tailed. We’ve requested wiretaps for a few of his acquaintances here and in Florida, which we should have within a few hours. We’ll bring him in.”
“Someone is bound to get hurt,” the president said.
“That’s a possibility we’ve considered, but when we have him located, we’ll go in with an overwhelming force.”
Adkins couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “His wife and daughter were killed in front of his eyes, for Christ’s sake. But he didn’t kill the marshals who wanted to take him in.”
“No,” Caffery said. “But he knocked one of the men to the ground and stole his weapon and used it to shoot the other marshal in the leg.”
“But not in the head, Benjamin,” Adkins said. “And believe me a head shot would have been easier for him than you can possibly imagine.”
Langdon gazed at Adkins as if he were seeing his DCI for the first time. He nodded. “Mr. Adkins, you’re fired. Your deputy director will take over on an interim basis.”
This hadn’t come as a surprise to any of them, but of the men in the room, Shapiro seemed to be the most smug.
“Leave us now. Clean out your personal items from your office, return your laptop and secure telephone and security badges and any files or other documents you might have in your possession.”
“It’s already been taken care of, Mr. President.”
“A release document under the Secrets Act is ready for your signature. Mr. Whittaker has it for you,” Langdon said. He got to his feet and extended his hand. “On behalf of a grateful nation—”
But Adkins just looked at him. “I’m truly sorry, Mr. President, but you have no idea who you’re dealing with or the serious nature of the problem he’s been trying to work out for his country.”
“If it’s found that you’ve withheld information, you will be prosecuted,” Shapiro told him.
“You haven’t a clue, do you,” Adkins said. “Well, neither do I. But I think if you press him people will get hurt.”
“If he contacts you we want to know,” Caffery said.
“I’m sure you’ll be monitoring my phone lines.”
“Of course,” General Reed said.
“God help you all,” Adkins said, and he turned and walked out of the Oval Office.
PART TWO
The Following Days
THIRTY-ONE
McGarvey flew a U.S. Airways flight out of Baltimore’s Thurgood Marshall Airport a few minutes after five in the afternoon as a U.S. Marshal, touching down in Orlando at eleven-thirty. Rencke had arranged everything and the
