297
“All right. Here is what happened, and it goes without saying that you can never repeat any of this.” Michael started to recount the events of the last twenty-four hours.
Again he omitted Seamus’s involvement with Coleman and failed to mention how they had found out about Arthur.
He also neglected to tell her that he had knocked out Stu Garret and Mike Nance.
When Michael had finished telling his edited version of the story, there was a brief silence while Liz gathered her thoughts. With a look of deep concern she asked the question that hit closest to home. “Who killed Arthur?”
“Scott.”
“Do you think the President was involved?”
“I’m not sure. Stansfield doesn’t think so, but he’s going to look into it.” Liz bit her lower lip. “I can’t believe the FBI is going along with this.”
“They have no other choice. If Nance and Garret’s involvement in this were to be made public …” Michael shook his head. “The whole country would erupt.” Scarlatti didn’t respond. She had a far-off look in her eye. Michael grabbed her by the cheeks and said, “Don’t even think about it, Liz. This story can never go public.” She pulled his hand away.
“It’s not right, Michael. The people deserve to know. It’s not acceptable to have the
CIA and the FBI running around behind our backs conspiring to cover up murders that were committed by the President’s top advisers.”
“If this story were to get out”-Michael held up a finger-“number one, we would lose all credibility in the international community. Number two, the CIA would be shut down for good-” “That might not be such a bad thing.” O’Rourke shook his head. “The CIA
does more good for this country than you will ever know. The only time we ever hear about them is when they screw up. Their successes far outweigh their failures.
It’s not like they can hold a press conference and announce that they’ve recruited one of Saddam Hussein’s top generals to spy for us.”
“I don’t like the idea of all this secrecy. It’s wrong.
It’s the people’s right to know.” In a soft voice Michael asked, “Even if it tears the country apart?” Liz silently struggled with the question for a moment. “I gave you my word, and I’m not going to go back on it. I might not like this whole mess, but I’m just happy it’s over and you’re safe.”
“Thank you.” Michael’s stomach growled again and Liz said, “I guess someone’s hungry.”
298
“I’m starved.”
“How about I make us a nice quiet dinner for two, and then we spend the rest of the night right here in bed?” Michael grinned. “What’s in it for me?” Scarlatti laughed. “Oh, you’ll see.” Liz grabbed him by the arm and led him toward the bathroom.
“You take a shower and get cleaned up. I’ll go to the store and get some stuff for dinner.” She smacked him on the butt and pushed him toward the bathroom. Scarlatti then headed downstairs and grabbed Duke’s leash off the coat rack. The yellow Lab, upon hearing the familiar jingle of his leash, appeared excitedly at Liz’s side, and a moment later they were out the door and on their way to the Georgetown Safeway. Director
Stansfield looked around the conference table in his office and noted how tired the other attendees were. FBI director Roach sat slouched with his chin resting on his chest, his eyes open but red. Skip McMahon was yawning, and Irene Kennedy was taking her glasses off so she could rub her eyes. It had been a long day, and none of them had gotten much sleep the night before. Assessing that any further work would be useless, and that he didn’t have the strength to argue anymore, Stansfield decided it was time to wrap things up.
“Skip, I apologize for putting you in this situation, but there is no other option. If we call off the investigation, too many people will want to know why.” McMahon shook his head. “It’s a waste of manpower.
I have over two hundred agents working on these assassinations, and they sure as hell could be used on other cases. cases we can eventually bring to trial.”
“It’s not an entire waste,” stated Stansfield in his most conciliatory voice. “It’s very important that we find out who these assassins are, even if we can’t bring them to trial.”
“I’ll give you that. I just don’t want this manhunt to turn into a two year ordeal and cover-up with hundreds of agents wasting their time.”
“I agree with you, Skip,” replied Roach, “but there is no other way to do it. It’s important that we find out who the assassins are, and we have to keep the investigation going or the press will go nuts. When the timing is right, I’ll transfer you and put you in charge of something else.” McMahon nodded his acceptance. “I know that we have no other choice, but what I can’t accept is Nance and Garret getting away with this scot-free.
God, I’d love to get my hands on them.” The senior agent’s face was twisted with anger.
Stansfield smiled and stood.
McMahon’s honesty had grown on him over the last several weeks. The CIA’s top spook walked over and patted McMahon on the shoulder. “I wouldn’t worry too much, Skip. If they step out of line, I’m sure our mystery assassins will give them a call. It’s been a long day. Let’s get some sleep, and we’ll talk in the morning.” Everyone nodded in agreement and rose to leave. Stansfield walked them to the door and then asked Kennedy
299
to stay behind for a minute. Stansfield closed the door, and he and Kennedy walked over to the director’s desk.
