Kharrazi left the neighborhood at a leisurely pace, taking side streets for about a quarter mile before he unleashed the dog and set him free. He found his rental car and with a stranglehold on the steering wheel, he merged into the mid-day traffic. So much adrenalin pumped through his veins, Kharrazi almost ran a red light. He steered toward the safe house where he would find seven KSF soldiers who were prepared to die for whichever order he gave them. And Kharrazi had a whopper for them.
Chapter 17
President Merrick woke up startled. He found himself leaning back in his chair in the Oval Office and was halfway through rubbing his eyes when he realized he wasn’t alone. Sitting on a sofa reading the Washington Post was Samuel Fisk.
“Sam,” Merrick said, “how long have I been out?”
“About an hour and a half,” Fisk said, turning a page.
“You should have gotten me up.”
“I canceled your noon appointment with Stanton. He’d just waste more time pinching you for a withdrawal. Besides, you needed the sleep.”
Merrick opened a side door to a small bathroom, where he splashed water on his face, wiped dry, and began running an electric razor over the stubble. “I should be getting my briefing from the Bureau any time,” Merrick said, over the noise of the razor. “Has Walt called yet?”
“Not exactly,” Fisk answered.
Merrick clicked the razor off and faced Fisk from the bathroom doorway. Fisk continued as if he was reading the Sunday paper at his kitchen table. Merrick suddenly remembered Nick Bracco’s phone call. “Sam?”
“Yeah.”
“You have something you want to tell me?”
Fisk folded the paper neatly and placed it on the coffee table in front of him. He motioned to the sofa across the table from him. “Why don’t you have a seat?”
Merrick replaced the razor and began looping his tie into a knot as he approached the couch. Sitting down, he said, “Talk to me.”
“John, how long have we been friends?”
Merrick froze. “Oh shit, Sam. I don’t like the sound of this one bit.”
“There is an option that just became available to us and I can’t tell you very much about it.”
Merrick finished knotting his tie and secured it snugly around his neck. “Does it entail anything unethical?”
Sam looked at Merrick stone-faced. As the seconds passed and the silence grew conspicuous, Merrick nodded his head. “I see.”
“John,” Fisk said, “I’m going to do you the biggest favor anyone has ever done. I’m going to get rid of these fucking bastards and it’s not going to be pretty, and it’s not going to be fair, but we’ve been hogtied by the law for too long.”
Merrick gave his friend a sideward look. “Have we been hogtied by the Constitution as well?”
Fisk stood and turned to study the large photo of Paul Merrick on the south wall. He nodded his head toward the picture. “Do you think the terrorists that killed him cared about the Constitution?”
“Don’t, Sam.”
“Why not?”
“It’s too personal. I can’t carry that kind of baggage into a decision that involves our nations policy on. . on. .”
“On what?” Fisk said, turning to face Merrick. “Exactly which policy are you referring to? Is it our policy allowing foreigners to kill our civilians for political purposes? Or is it our policy involving innocent lives destroyed because we have to wait until there’s enough evidence to guarantee a conviction? I am sick and tired of surveilling terrorists who we know are plotting violent acts inside of our borders. Borders that are open to a myriad of criminals to play in our backyard, with our tools, and with our personal rights guaranteed by the Constitution. By the time we have the legal right to make an arrest, blood’s been spilled and alibis have been perfected for a jury of their peers.” Fisk pointed at the large picture. “I’m not only doing this for you, I’m doing this for him. He doesn’t have a voice anymore and I’m speaking for him.”
Merrick sighed. He approached the Secretary of State and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Sam, don’t risk your career over this.”
“I’d gladly give up my career for this cause. It’s time you took this personally, too. Otherwise just have those pollsters run the damn country. What the heck do we need you for?”
Merrick and Fisk faced Paul Merrick’s image together. Lieutenant Merrick seemed to be looking down smiling eerily at them. The president began to reach for his brother, then pulled back. He took a deep breath. “Sometimes, Sam, I look up at this thing and think, ‘There he is.’ It’s so lifelike, so real. I can’t believe he’s not here anymore.”
Fisk looked squarely into Merrick’s eyes. “All you need to do is say ‘go.’ One word and I’ll set this thing in motion.”
Merrick considered what his friend was protecting him from. The CIA? Covert operations?
“John?”
Merrick stared up at the soldier framed on the wall above him and became lost in his brother’s gaze. “Let me think about it, Sam.”
Fisk nodded. “Okay, but don’t take too long.”
“Sam, I don’t even know what-”
“Stop,” Fisk interrupted. “You’re going to have to trust me. It’s all on me, not you. I just need a command. I won’t do it without one.”
When Merrick finally wrestled his gaze away from his brother, Fisk was already leaving, closing the door behind him.
Merrick found his brother’s putter and returned his hands to the proper position on the grip, his fingers melding into the grooves his brother left behind. He stood over a golf ball with his brother’s face in his mind. “I don’t know, Paul,” he said out loud. “What would you do?”
He stroked the golf ball and watched it hit the leg of his desk square-on with a tiny thud. “Bull’s eye.”
Nick Bracco was parked over a quarter of a mile away from a suspected KSF hideout. The building was in an area of the city that featured crowded residential streets and row houses that lined the narrow passages like giant dominos. Nick had been holding binoculars to his eyes for so long his arms ached. The afternoon was beginning to wane and so were his hopes of discovering anything of value from the stakeout.
Matt sat next to him fingering a stack of documents on his lap. “So, do you think the president knows about Sal’s little proposition?”
“What do you think?” Nick said, his left eye beginning to tear up.
“He’ll make the call, but the trail back to him ends at Fisk’s desk.”
“That’s about right.”
“What did Fisk think about it?”
“I’m sure he thought I was more than a little goofy.”
“Oh, so then he’s spoken with Dr. Morgan.”
“Very funny.” Nick put the binoculars on his lap and rubbed his eyes. “Give me those files again.”
Matt handed him four manila folders with the word classified stamped across the top. Nick examined the files for the third time in the past three hours. “It’s incredible. How could all four of these guys get student visas? For crying out loud, Nihad Tansu is pushing forty.”
“Can’t blame Homeland Security, most of these guys had never been outside of Turkey before. They’re not your traditional international terrorists.”
Nick flipped the files back to Matt and began another stint with the binoculars. “One more hour. That’s all I’m giving this lead.”
“It could be worse. We could be digging through KSF garbage cans like Tolliver.”
Nick saw a red sedan slowly making its way down the street toward him. Nick didn’t recognize the male
