to go to war.
“Has your ambassador been informed of this?”
“I do not know.”
“Has your prime minister informed our vice president?”
“I do not know.”
Kennedy paused momentarily.
“Ben, Director Stansfield has the interests of Israel very high on his list, but he is only one man. Now is not a time to play games through back channels.
I would suggest that certain people in your government start banging the drum and bang it loudly. They know who to talk to.” Kennedy stopped for a moment and added, “Don’t worry about your support from Langley. We have never wavered on this issue, and are not about to.”
There was a moment of silence and then
“Good I will pass that along.”
“And I appreciate the information, Ben. Please let me know the second you find anything more.”
Kennedy hung up the phone and swiveled her chair around. Brown was still talking to Stansfield. Kennedy was not sure about the new deputy director. It wasn’t due to a lack of confidence in his skills. He was intelligent and professional.
Her issue with Brown lay more in where his bread was buttered.
Brown was not an insider at Langley. He had been with the Agency for less than a year. In his early fifties, he was a former federal prosecutor and judge who, after leaving the bench, went to work for one of Washington’s poshest law firms, making close to a million dollars a year. After pressing the flesh with all of the bigwigs in Congress for a half dozen years, he had obtained a nomination for the deputy director slot and was confirmed.
It was a safe bet that his allegiance was more with the senators who had confirmed him than with the man he was now talking to. It was that simple fact that kept Kennedy from speaking in front of the man. She waited for several minutes until Brown left, then rose and approached the elevated desk behind her.
Stansfield leaned forward and asked, “What is it?”
General Flood also leaned forward, sensing that Kennedy might have obtained a valuable piece of information.
“I just spoke to Colonel Fine. He’s gotten nowhere in terms of the yassin from Iraq, and with the young Palestinian, they have several contacts who have claimed to have seen him in the last four days.” Flood shook his head and said, “That’s it Thomas. We have to tell him.”
Stansfield’s face remained passive, and Flood persisted.
“It’s our duty. Iron Man hasn’t come up with anything definitive, but it sure does look like something is going on down in that basement, he.doesn’t have enough men to tie up one of them down there.”
“What about the ventilation duct?” asked Kennedy.
“Maybe he’s afraid we’ll try and use it again.”
“Bullshit,” grumbled Hood.
“All he has to do is booby-trap the only stairwell that leads up from the basement, and he has us boxed in.”
Kennedy agreed.
Flood leaned toward Stansfield and said, “We have to tell him Thomas. We should have told him this morning.” Stansfield looked at the large general. He knew Flood was right but also knew how Vice President Baxter would react. He would wiggle. He would question the validity of their conclusion.
He would put off making any decision until he absolutely had to. Despite all of that. Flood was right. They had to tell him.
DALLAS KING sat across from his boss and watched him talk on the phone.
The afternoon sun spilled through the windows of the vice president’s study at the Naval Observatory.
King was still obsessing over his role in aiding the terrorists. He had decided only one thing thus far, that he would keep his mouth shut.
There wasn’t a snowballs chance in hell that he would volunteer what he had done to the FBI. It would do no good. They couldn’t turn back the clocks. What he had to do right now was damage control. Who else knew about the late night excursion? There were the two women of course, but they were bombed. There was Joe, the Secret Service officer who had let them in. King thought about checking up on Joe, but that might make things look worse if the story came out.
No. For now, he would sit and do nothing and hope that no one would ever link him to the terrorist.
Aides shuffled in and out of the room on an almost continuous basis. The large dining room and living room of the mansion had been converted into offices for Baxter’s support staff and the dozen or so essential personnel who had been displaced when the Old Executive Office Building had been shut down by the Secret Service.
It was one of those essential aides who quietly entered the room and approached King. In a voice low enough to not distract the vice president, she said, “Director Stansfield and General Flood are on the line, and they wish to speak to the vice president immediately.”
King stood.
“Which line?” The young woman held up two fingers and began her retreat.
King watched her leave. Out of habit he checked out her backside as she sauntered for the door. It was nice. He’d been eyeballing her for the better part of the new year, but knew it would be trouble. Office romances were a big no-no.
Stick with the married women, King told himself.
King made his way over to a credenza on the other side of the large study. After running a hand through his hair and checking himself out in an ornate gilt-framed mirror. King grabbed the receiver from the phone and stabbed the blinking red button.
“Director Stansfield, General Flood, Dallas King here.”
It was General Flood who spoke first.
“Dallas, where is the vice president?”
“He’s right here, but he’s on the line with the secretary general of the UN.”
“Well, tell him we need to speak with him.” Flood’s voice was even gruffer than normal.
King held the receiver to his left ear and with his right forefinger he smoothed out his eyebrows. Looking into the mirror to check on his grooming, he replied, “As I said, he’s on the line with the secretary general, and it’s rather important. Is the’re something I can help you with?”
Flood, the highest-ranking officer in the entire United States military, was used to people jumping to his requests. Add to this the tense situation and a lack of sleep, and the result was predictable.
“Goddamnit,” bellowed Flood.
“You’ve got some things to learn about the chain of command, son When the chairman of the Joint Chiefs calls and says he wants to talk to the vice president, you put him on the phone!”
King pulled the receiver away from his face and looked at it with a frown. Under his breath, he said, “Give me a break.” Then into the phone, he replied, “Let me see if he can take your call.” Without waiting to see if that was okay. King pressed the hold button and set the phone down. Looking into the mirror one more time, he straightened his tie and checked his perfect white teeth.
Walking across the spacious study, he approached the vice president’s desk and gave his boss the proper signal. Baxter looked up and when the moment was right, he said, “Excuse me, Mr. Secretary. Would you hold one moment please?” Baxter covered the phone.
“What now?”
“General Flood and Director Stansfield are on line two and they want to talk to you immediately.”
“Immediately.” Baxter repeated the word in the same tone as King.
“Yep, General Flood has got his undies in a bind about something. He snapped at me when I told him you were busy.”
Baxter took his hand off the receiver and said, “Mr. Secretary, I want to continue this conversation, but I must take an urgent call. May I call you back in a few minutes?” Baxter nodded several times while he listened to
