“He’s my son.”
“Out of the question.”
Greg stood and squared off with Nathan. “Listen, you son of a bitch, I don’t care who or what you used to be. He’s
Nathan got up and pivoted toward the door.
“Damn it, Greg,” Frank said. “McBride, wait. Please.”
Nathan stopped but didn’t turn around.
“We’re all under a lot of stress. Please, sit back down.”
Nathan didn’t move.
Please,” Frank said again.
“I need some air,” Nathan said and left the room.
Harvey stood and lowered his voice. “Damn it, Greg. What the hell was that all about?”
“McBride’s a smug asshole, that’s what.”
“Hey, I’ve known the man through life and death. He has a lot of faults, but being smug isn’t one of them.”
“Sounded like it to me.”
“Well, you heard him wrong. He’s not smug. He’s confident. You can’t see it because you’re too close to this. You’re asking us to risk our lives and if the situation warrants it, you’re asking us to kill. And we’ve said yes. But we can’t have the father of the missing agent involved, much less someone who’s never worked in the field. You’ve never killed anyone, Greg. Trust me, there’s nothing glamorous or exciting about it. This isn’t some half-baked Hollywood movie. We’re talking real bullets and real death. There’s no place for you in this mission.”
Greg looked down but didn’t respond.
“Now when he comes back,” Harvey continued, “don’t apologize. It won’t be necessary. Nathan doesn’t hold grudges and he knows you’re wound-up tight. We all are. When he offers to shake your hand, you take it, understood?”
No response.
“Am I getting through?”
“Yes.”
Nathan found Diane Ortega in the kitchen, emptying the dishwasher. “May I trouble you for a glass of water, please?”
“It’s no trouble at all.” She retrieved a glass from the cabinet and pressed it into a small alcove in the refrigerator. She had a kind face that reminded him of his own mother. “I heard that last exchange, it was hard to miss. Will you sit with me a minute?”
Nathan pulled a bar stool out from the island for her.
“Thank you.” As they sat facing each other, Diane placed her hands in her lap. “It’s been difficult for Greg, his father being the former director of the FBI and all.”
“I can imagine.”
“You’ve seen the pictures in Frank’s office?”
“They’re impressive.”
“The bureau was Frank’s life, still is, I’m afraid. He’s always known it took a heavy toll on his family. I think if Frank had it to do over again, he would’ve spent more time with his family.” Diane’s face clouded for an instant. She looked like she was about to cry, but made a recovery. “Greg is our oldest, so he took it the hardest. I think he understands the sacrifice now, but some wounds never fully heal.” She reached out and held his hand. “Your father’s a lot like Frank, and you’re a lot like Greg.”
“I’m… not sure what to say.”
“Our time on Earth is limited, I’m understanding that now. We can’t change our pasts, but we can guide our futures.”
“I’ve killed fifty-seven people, Mrs. Ortega. It’s taken a long time, but I’ve come to terms with it. Finding your grandson might increase that number. Are you okay with that?”
She held his hand tighter. “I don’t see the world through rose-colored glasses. Being an FBI director’s wife has taught me that much. There are genuinely evil people out there. I’m sure you’re not indiscriminate. I trust your judgment.”
“Thank you for saying so, it means a lot.”
“Frank and Greg know it too, but men have a harder time expressing their feelings. It’s a genetic flaw of the gender.”
“Amen to that.”
“Guide your future, Nathan.” She released his hand.
Nathan reentered the library, approached Greg, and extended his hand. “Can we start over?”
They shook hands.
Everyone sat back down. “Your mother’s a remarkable woman.”
“Yes, she is,” Greg said.
“May I explain my reasoning to you?”
He held up a hand. “There’s no need. I understand why I can’t be involved. We have the same policy in the bureau, and for good reason.”
“We’ll keep you informed every step of the way.”
“I appreciate it.”
“We’ll find your son.”
“All right then,” Frank said. “There’s one more vital piece of information you need to know.” He lowered his voice. “I can’t guarantee the FBI SWAT teams will know you’re there. As you can imagine, it’s a delicate situation with outsiders being involved in bureau business. I’ll do everything within my power to make contact up there, but you should assume they won’t know you’re there.”
Nathan just stared at the man.
“That means anyone not wearing SWAT uniforms will be fair game.”
Nathan nodded. “When is the raid?”
“Tomorrow at fourteen-thirty hours.”
“A daylight raid. One more question. Does my father know of our involvement?”
Frank answered without hesitation. “Yes.”
Chapter 3
It was a windy evening in the nation’s capital. The horizon’s last remnant of violet was fading to black. Four miles high, lit from the amber glow of the city, thin clouds drifted toward the east. Fall colors had come early. Red and orange cherry leaves lined the sidewalks and gutters.
The office of the Committee on Domestic Terrorism, or CDT, was located in the Russell Senate Office Building. Its members met in a lavish conference room furnished with high-backed leather chairs surrounding an oval, mahogany table. The walls were adorned with oil portraits of every president. A corner table hosted a pitcher of ice water. In the opposite corner, a matching table supported an elegant flower arrangement that perfumed the air with the scent of stargazer lilies. It was an impressive room, appropriate for the purpose it served: Protecting the nation’s security from homegrown threats.
The moment CDT Chairman Stone McBride strode into the room, all conversation ended. At six-four, the senator had a commanding presence. Like the trained Marine he was, Stone kept his gray hair short and formal. Deep blue eyes complemented a square jawline. The man looked like a career politician because he
Now seventy-eight, the senior senator from New Mexico had earned the nickname “Stonewall” during the
