Augie’s story, he asked Coleman what he thought. “The man has the power and resources to pull it off, and as I told you several days ago, whoever blew up Erik’s limo has to have some real connections. They had less than a week to put that operation together.” Coleman shrugged his shoulders. “It wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest if he had a hand in this, but we don’t have the intel or the capability to know for sure.”
“I know, but we have to do something.” Coleman tapped the side of his mug. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea to ask any more questions about this guy. The FBI’s investigation is kicking into high gear.
It’s important that we act normal and don’t draw any attention to ourselves.”
Coleman pointed at the three O’Rourkes. “You guys can get away with a lot more than I can. They’re not going to come after you, but sooner or later they’re gonna come knocking on my door.” Seamus thought about what Coleman had said for a moment and then asked, “What about taking him out?”
“Higgins?”
“Yes.”
“In principle I don’t have a problem with it. From what I’ve heard he’s the snake of snakes, but I’d like to be a little more sure that he was behind this before we go to that extreme. Besides, I’m not even
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sure we could get to him. My guess is that he has some pretty tight security around him.” Michael slid the dossier across the table.
“Augie gave this to us before we left. It’s a full profile of Arthur’s movements and security measures. It breaks down his estate’s security system step-by-step and describes, in detail, the endeavors he has continued to be involved in since he was forced out of the Agency.”
Coleman opened the file and started thumbing through the pages. After several minutes Coleman looked at Michael. “You got this from this guy that used to work at the CIA?”
“Yes.”
“Where did he get it?”
“He compiled it for Director Stansfield.”
“They were thinking about taking him out, weren’t they?”
“Yes.”
“Unbelievable.”
“In the back,” Seamus said, “there’s a section describing his business dealings and continued meddling in the CIA’s business. If you turn to page four of the section, you’ll find a highlighted paragraph that you’re not going to like.” Coleman flipped to the back of the file and scanned the paragraph. It stated that Higgins was believed to be involved with a group of black marketers who were stealing high-tech U.S. weaponry from manufacturers and military bases and selling it abroad through a Middle East arms dealer that had known sympathies for anti-American regimes.
Like any other U.S. soldier, Coleman hated the thought that he or his men might be killed by an American-made weapon, especially a high-tech weapon that wasn’t supposed to be sold. Coleman finished reading the paragraph and looked up at the former Recon
Marine sitting across the table. “Michael, I think you and I should go take a look at his estate this evening.” On the top floor of the residential side of the White House was a large room that faced south called the Solarium. The room sat above the Eisenhower
Balcony and had large plate-glass windows running from the floor to the ceiling. Stevens liked the room because it was the brightest in the White House, and since he was starting to feel like a caged animal, he decided to move his lunch meeting up to the top floor, where he could actually see beyond the gates of the compound. He was scheduled to meet with the leaders of his party to go over the legislative agenda for Monday’s reconvening of the House and Senate.
Stevens looked out across the South Lawn toward the Washington Monument.
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The large green personnel carriers and tanks were clearly visible from his panoramic perch. “God, it’s only been four days since we got back from Camp David, and I already feel trapped.” Stevens shook his head at a flight of four green Cobra gunships working their way eastward across the Mall from the Lincoln Monument to the Capitol. The sight of all the military equipment so openly visible in the heart of Washington made him wonder if the decision to bring in the military was wise.
“Stu, are you sure this is the right thing to do?” Garret was sitting at a small desk feverishly writing. Without looking up he asked, “Is what the right thing to do?” Stevens waved his arm in front of him, gesturing toward the Mall. “Bringing in such a strong military presence. I mean, do we really need tanks in front of the Washington
Monument? It just. it just makes me look so harsh. Like I’m a dictator.”
“That’s what we need right now, Jim. I’ve talked to every pollster from New York to
L.A. over the last three days, and they’re all telling me the same thing. The American people want law and order returned to their capital. The voters are scared and they’re looking to you for guidance and leadership.
Bringing the military in will portray the right message. You’ll be seen as a strong and decisive leader.”
“I know, but what about what you said initially? That we’d look like the Chinese if we brought in the tanks?”
“Shit, that was before they killed the damn Speaker of the House in broad daylight and tried to blow us out of the sky. Things have gotten much more serious than they were after that first morning. The voters are scared. At first they got off on the thrill of seeing a couple of dinosaurs like Fitzgerald and Koslowski get assassinated. That initial thrill is gone, and they want a return to law and order. They’ll turn on their TVS when they sit down to eat dinner tonight, and they’ll see a stone-faced soldier sitting on the turret of a tank and they’ll be happy they have a strong President who’s willing to take action in a time of crisis. Trust me, Jim, I know what I’m doing on this one.”
