analyst? One of our best and brightest?”
Harper tensed involuntarily. “Kharmai?”
“Exactly.”
“What are you talking about? She wasn’t even there.”
“That’s bullshit,” Ford announced. Turning to her right, she said, “You can’t possibly believe that. He knew damn well where she was last night, because he sent them both.”
Andrews frowned. Harper could see him wavering, but finally, he seemed to accept the denial at face value. “I don’t know where Kealey left her — she didn’t come back to Langley with him — but she was definitely at the embassy,” the director said. “The Metro police cruisers all have dash-mounted cameras.”
“You saw the tape?”
“No. I didn’t need to. The officer woke up this morning and gave his statement, which we got hold of shortly thereafter. The name the woman gave him was Sara Brown. Not real, of course, and not particularly original, but that’s beside the point. His description matched Kharmai to a T, right down to the accent.
“The dots connect themselves,” Andrews continued, his voice dropping to a more reasonable level. “People are going to figure this out, John. It might come out of this building, or it might come out of the White House, but the point is, it will come out. She’s got to go. Kealey too. Their days at the Agency are numbered. It’s that simple.”
Harper nodded stiffly, vaguely aware of Ford’s triumphant smile. “When?”
“They’re suspended without pay, effective immediately. We’ll ease them out by the end of the month. I’ll let you deal with Kealey; frankly, I’d be happy to never see him again. You’ve known him for a long time, and he’s done a lot for us. That’s the only reason he’s not facing charges. The same for Kharmai, and she has my word on that: she’s free and clear if she goes quietly. I want to talk to her face-to-face. We can bring her up now, if you like. Or you can break the news to her first. It’s up to you.”
“There’s no point in drawing it out,” Harper decided at length. “She’ll be expecting it anyway.”
“Fine.” Andrews lifted the receiver and punched a button. “Diane, ask Naomi Kharmai to report to my office, please. You should find her in Science and Technology. If she’s not there, try McLean.”
He replaced the receiver, leaned back in his chair, and appraised his guest. After a time, he turned to Ford and said, “Rachel, would you mind excusing us for a moment?”
She didn’t look happy, but she’d gotten her way, and for the moment, that seemed to be enough. She nodded curtly, stood, and walked out.
Andrews looked at his desk for a long time, a number of emotions passing over his ruddy features. Clearly, the whole situation was not sitting well with him, and it wasn’t just anger at the way things had turned out.
“John, what happened here?” he finally asked. “How many times have I looked to you for advice since I was nominated? How many times have you pulled my ass out of the fire? You’re probably the smartest man in the building. It doesn’t make sense.”
Harper shook his head wearily. “I looked at the facts, and I made a decision. What else can I say?”
“You didn’t ‘make a decision.’ You violated a direct order from the president, for Christ’s sake. What the hell were you thinking?”
“The president is wrong,” Harper replied flatly. “I don’t know what kind of bullshit the Bureau is feeding him, but the Iranians were not involved in Baghdad or Paris. This all comes down to somebody in the insurgency. Vanderveen can tell us who that is, and the only way to find him is through Ruhmann. It was the right call, and I’d do it again.”
Andrews shook his head in disbelief. He had worked in bureaucracies all his life. He believed in the rules, and on the rare occasion he decided to break one, the decision did not come easily. Harper’s unapologetic attitude was beyond his experience. “Well, Kealey and Kharmai are your people, and you know how it works. Unfortunately, their sacrifice is not enough.”
The DDO nodded once. His chest tightened, even though he had expected as much. “So, how do we handle it? Is it a minor health issue, or do I suddenly feel the need to spend more time with my wife?”
“Neither,” was the surprising response. “I spoke to Brenneman this morning, John. He’s not happy, to say the least, but he can’t afford to lose you right now.” Catching the look on the other man’s face, he hastened to add, “He’s not doing this out of personal loyalty, so don’t get comfortable. It’s politics, like everything else. With the election coming up, he can’t afford to lose any more public support, especially over something he can actually control. So for now, we keep the status quo.”
Harper was too surprised to react right away. He couldn’t suppress the wave of relief that swept over him, although it was quickly followed by guilt. Two of his best people, after all, were about to lose their jobs. He could have done more to dissuade Kealey, and he definitely could have done more to stop Kharmai from getting involved. Before he could speak, the director’s intercom came to life. “Sir, Ms. Kharmai has arrived.”
“Okay, Diane. Send her in.”
Andrews stood, adopted a sober expression, and straightened his tie as the door swung open. Getting to his feet, Harper took a deep breath and tried to prepare himself. This was going to be painful, to say the least.
It was perhaps ten minutes later that Naomi found herself in the cafeteria on the ground floor. She looked around in a daze, only dimly aware of the tacky plum-colored walls and industrial seating. A few employees breaking for an early lunch were scattered around the room, spaced well apart in the way people do when they have a choice in the matter.
With little else to do, she walked up to the counter and purchased a large cup of coffee, momentarily forgetting that she hated the stuff. A liberal amount of sugar and cream made it bearable, and she carried the lukewarm beverage back to a seat. She took a small sip and squeezed her eyes shut, resisting the urge to lay her head on the table and let it all out.
She had known this could happen, of course, but nothing compared to the reality. Worst of all was the speed with which she had been dispatched. It had been so quick; the director had cut her loose in a matter of minutes, barely giving her time to wrap her mind around the idea that her career with the CIA was essentially over. His words had been rattling around in her head since the moment she’d stepped out of his office. I’m sorry, Naomi, but you’ve given me no choice… blatant disregard for authority… clear violation of standing orders… administrative leave pending further inquiries.
The words, as well as what they meant for her future, had left her numb, at least for the first few minutes. Now that the shock was starting to pass, reality was settling in. She would still be able to get a job — her academic credentials would see to that — but that wasn’t the point. She loved her work; it was that simple, and after everything she had done at the Agency, she knew that nothing else would ever be able to hold her interest. It was awful to know that she had reached the peak of her career at thirty-one years of age, and with that thought, it became too much. She put her head on her arms and did her best to hold back the tears.
A shadow crossed the table, and she looked up, startled. Jonathan Harper was standing there, holding a cup of coffee. There was a subdued expression on his face. “Mind if I join you?”
“No,” she said miserably, quickly wiping a hand across her eyes. It was beyond embarrassing to be seen this way, but she hadn’t expected him. She waved at the opposite seat. “Be my guest.”
He took the proffered chair and waited as she composed herself hurriedly. “How are you doing?” he asked.
“I’ll be fine, sir. It’s just that…” She shrugged helplessly. “I’ve been here five years, and now it’s over. It’s just a little hard to believe.”
Harper nodded sympathetically. Even though she was doing her best to hide it, she was clearly devastated by her dismissal. He was tempted to remind her that she wasn’t supposed to have played the role she did, that she couldn’t blame anyone but herself for the mess she was in, but the last thing she needed at this point was a lecture. She’d be telling herself the same thing anyway.
“The funny thing,” she continued slowly, “is that I would probably do it again.” There was a strange wonderment in her voice, as though she could scarcely believe her own words. “Ryan couldn’t have done it by himself, after all, and I happen to think he’s right.”
“About Vanderveen?”
She nodded. “Sir, when it comes to that man, we can’t afford to wait for ironclad proof. By going forward with the meeting at the UN, the president is virtually daring him on. I’d be shocked if he didn’t make a play in New York, and the only way to stop it is to find him first.”
