“No idea. The lights are off, but that doesn’t mean much; at this time of the morning, he’s probably asleep.”
“What about infrared?”
“We tried that, but the windows are too small. We can’t get a good scan of the entire house.”
McCabe was nodding slowly. “Are there any vehicles on the property?”
“There’s a fairly large barn,” Susskind responded. “But the doors are closed and we can’t get close enough to see inside without jeopardizing our cover. When we move, we have to be sure.”
Plesse cleared his throat. “How about roadblocks? I would think, as a precautionary measure-”
“No way,” McCabe said from across the table. “It’s less than two hours into Washington from that part of Virginia. It would take us at least an hour just to get checkpoints set up on the main roads.”
“Besides, what would we tell the people manning them?” Landrieu asked. “Let me remind you once again that the president is anxious to avoid drawing any unnecessary attention to this situation. Setting anything up that might approach an effective barrier around the city would mean bringing hundreds of people into the loop. That is completely unacceptable.”
“Sir, with all due respect, I think we’re past the point of worrying about publicity. By putting this much effort into keeping it quiet, we’re giving Vanderveen a huge advantage.”
Ryan flinched at Kharmai’s unexpected outburst, and waited for the inevitable reprimand.
Patrick Landrieu straightened and fixed his gaze on the young woman at the other end of the table. “I’m sorry, miss, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Naomi Kharmai, sir. I’m with-”
“Central Intelligence, I know. I served that particular agency for more than twenty years. No offense, Ms. Kharmai, but I think the gravity of this situation is somewhat beyond the scope of your limited experience.” He turned his attention away from her immediately. “Now, if anyone else has any reasonable suggestions…”
When Ryan tuned the man out and cast a quick glance in Naomi’s direction, he saw that she had slumped down in her seat. Her eyes were downcast, and her cheeks were bright red.
“Excuse me, Director.”
Landrieu looked up, surprised and annoyed. “Yes?”
“Do you know who I am, sir?”
Landrieu hesitated, a fact that was noticed by everyone present. “Yes, I do, Mr. Kealey.”
“I would like to point out that Naomi’s efforts at tracking this name down are the only reason we’re even sitting here. If she has something to say, it would be well worth your time to listen to her.”
Had he been a man of compromise, willing to endure a mild rebuke in the interest of maintaining a positive atmosphere, the director might have shrugged it off. Because he was not that kind of man, however, he chose to bluster. “While I’m sure that we’re all grateful for Ms. Kharmai’s efforts, I don’t think we have time to-”
“Director.”
With the single spoken word, Landrieu looked up into the coldest pair of eyes he had ever seen. He almost opened his mouth to speak again, and then decided against it. Landrieu briefly reflected that what he saw in Kealey’s face might well have been the product, at least in part, of his own imagination. As a former deputy DCI, he still had connections at the highest levels of the Agency. He knew all about the man who was seated before him.
Patrick Landrieu swallowed his pride and cleared his throat. When he spoke, his words were barely audible, despite the stunned silence that had swept through the room. “By all means, Ms. Kharmai, if you have any suggestions, we would be happy to hear them.”
Naomi was a little shocked herself at what had just transpired. She collected herself quickly enough, though, and unconsciously straightened in her seat. “Thank you, Director. I admit that the political implications of another bombing, especially during a state visit by two national leaders, are way over my head. At the same time, we can’t afford to lose sight of the fact that the president is not the only person at risk here. There should be no doubt that a lot of people are going to die if Vanderveen manages to accomplish whatever it is he’s set out to do. As you’ve all seen from the copies of the driver’s license, Vanderveen made only minor cosmetic alterations while posing as Timothy Nichols. It’s fair to say that he’s probably already gotten rid of that identity, and has taken more dramatic steps to change his appearance for the final stage of his operation, if this is in fact the final stage.”
This statement was greeted by the low rumble of unhappy voices.
“If Vanderveen is still there, then we clearly have nothing to lose by moving in right now. If, on the other hand, he’s already gone, we need to know as soon as possible. Provided that the scene is treated with the utmost care and consideration, and any evidence remains intact, there’s a good chance we might find something useful, something that could tell us what he looks like now. At this point, there is very little else we can do. I think that it’s time to focus our efforts.”
The unhappy sounds gradually changed to general murmurs of consent. All the same, Naomi was surprised when Landrieu hurried to agree. “That sounds reasonable enough to me. Let’s hold off on the roadblocks. It would take a huge effort to mobilize that kind of force at this time in the morning anyway. Emily, I suggest that you start looking for a judge to wake up. When will you be ready to go?”
Deputy Director Susskind took a quick look at her watch. “Most of my people are already in place. Once we get the warrant, say… 5 AM.”
“Excellent.” Landrieu pulled back the cuff of his shirt and looked at his own watch. “That’s three hours from now. Send me an update when you hit the ground in Virginia. There’s no point in waking up the president at this hour. Let’s wait and see if we have something useful to tell him. Whoever’s not on the move will meet back here at 7:00 AM.
“President Chirac and Prime Minister Berlusconi arrived yesterday, ladies and gentlemen. The boating excursion is scheduled for 9:00 AM. That gives us six hours to catch a man who has eluded us for more than seven years. I suggest you get to work.”
Five minutes later the room was almost empty. Ryan was one of the last to leave, and he looked around for a minute before he saw Naomi moving down a distant hallway. She was almost running, and he had to move fast to catch up.
“Hey, where are you-” He caught the look on her face. “What’s wrong?”
“What do you mean, ‘What’s wrong?’ You know exactly what’s wrong.”
“No, I don’t.” She was still moving fast, and he was genuinely confused. “Naomi, you give me way too much credit. For the record, I’m actually pretty dumb, and I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She didn’t smile. “You shouldn’t have pulled that little stunt in there, Ryan. I didn’t need you to do that, okay? It was embarrassing. I can fight my own battles.”
“I know that… Naomi, stop for a second.” When she unexpectedly complied, he had to backtrack a couple of steps to face her. “Where are you going, anyway?”
“I have a seat on the next helicopter to Richmond.”
That came as a surprise. “With who?”
“Superintendent Plesse and the deputy director.”
“Which deputy director?”
“Susskind.”
Ryan lifted an eyebrow. “And Harper approved that?”
“It was his suggestion.” Naomi crossed her arms and stared at him defiantly. Her cheeks were still flushed, and her glossy black hair spilled in riotous waves down around her face and over her shoulders.
Ryan thought she had never looked better.
“I’m going, too.”
She shook her head slowly. “Harper specifically said you were to stay here.”
“I don’t give a shit what Harper said.”
Her expression softened slightly, as did her tone of voice. “Ryan, we don’t know for sure that he’s still there, and we need to have both ends covered. You don’t need me to tell you that.”
He hesitated, knowing that she was right. When she started to walk away again, he caught her arm. “Listen, I’m sorry about what I said in there. I should have kept my mouth shut. It’s just that Landrieu’s such an asshole…”
“That’s all right. I think so, too.”
