* * *
NOAH YOUNG HAD YET to move into the White House, deciding to remain at Number One Observatory Circle. The official residence of the vice president located on the grounds of the U.S. Naval Observatory was quaint and less monitored. While a stunning home on the inside with all the bells and whistles one would expect, the house appeared rather modest on the outside. Young contemplated moving into the White House permanently, but he decided against it when his party gave him the green light to take Michaels’s place on the ticket. The last thing Young wanted was to come across as an entitled politician. Being well within his right to live there, but refusing to do so out of respect for Michaels’s family and for the office itself played well with the American public. But Young had his own reasons for refusing his rightful residence.
The vice president’s home had far more latitude in what Young could get away with. Making secret phone calls and directing intelligence gathering ops at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue required stealthier moves than Young was accustomed to making—and he knew that. He preferred to handle the dark matters of running a campaign away from the limelight.
He slipped into his study and dialed the number of a former Air Force friend who was working in private security in the nation’s capital.
“This is Geller.”
“As in Frank Geller?”
“Noah Young? Is that really you?”
Young chuckled. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
“Only a couple decades or so,” Geller said. “I would ask you how you got my number, but I doubt there’s much that the acting president of the United States can’t get if he wants it.”
“Some of the stories you hear are highly exaggerated, trust me.”
“Well, how the heck are ya? I just can’t believe you’re the president now.”
“Acting president,” Young corrected. “I still have some work to do if I’m going to become a permanent fixture in the Oval Office.”
“Yeah, I saw the latest polls. Things aren’t really going your way, are they?”
“According to my campaign manager, I’m being punished for all of Michaels’s sins, complicit or not. But all is not lost just yet.”
“So, how do you plan on turning that around?”
“Funny that you should ask,” Young said. “That’s actually the reason for my call.”
“If you’re looking for my vote, I promise you’ll get it.”
Young laughed softly. “Actually, I’m looking for something even more helpful than that.”
“What do you need?”
“I need you to do something for me that will stop James Peterson from becoming president.”
“I gathered as much, but I hope you’re not suggesting that I do something to harm him physically,” Geller said. “I know I got into a few tussles when we were serving together, but those days are long behind me.”
“Not anything physically, but definitely something that will harm his political campaign. Or to be more blunt—shine a light on what he’s really up to.”
“You want me to sabotage the election?”
“No, no. Just listen before you start making a thousand wild guesses.”
“Okay. I’m all ears.”
“Good,” Young said. “Peterson is aligning with some of our foreign political foes. And doing so makes him susceptible as President. We just need to nip it all in the bud so we don’t have to spend the next four years wondering if Peterson’s allegiances lie elsewhere. I have it on good authority that he’s secretly meeting with a Russian ambassador tonight. I’m not privy to the nature of their conversation, but I know it doesn’t look good. He’s hiding this meeting from the reporters covering his campaign and making sure it’s completely off the books.”
“Maybe he’s trying to shore up relations so after the election that doesn’t come as such a shock,” Geller said.
“And maybe my Aunt Gladys will sprout wings and fly off her rocker so she doesn’t have to use her walker to get around any more. I love how you see the best in people, Geller. But that isn’t the case here. Peterson is doing some dangerous things right now, and if we don’t expose him, our country could elect an even bigger traitor than Conrad Michaels.”
“That’s a bold statement.”
“And a true one. You have to trust me on this one, Geller. I might be a politician now, but you know I’ve never lied to you. And I’m not lying about this.”
Geller was silent for a moment. “I believe you. Just tell me what you want me to do.”
“I want you to set up a hidden camera in the room where Peterson is going to be meeting with a Russian ambassador.”
“That’s it?”
“Just make sure you don’t get caught entering the building or on any of their security cameras. It’s going to be a big deal.”
“I can handle that,” Geller said. “Just text me the address. My phone is as secure as it can be.”
“Thanks,” Young said. “I’ll get right on it. Time is of the essence.”
Young hung up and leaned back in his chair. He stared at the oak tree outside his window as a faint smile crept across his face.
CHAPTER 9
Iraq, undisclosed location
HAWK WAITED UNTIL THE DRONE vanished on the horizon before making his way closer to Fazil’s compound. There was something about a solo op that he found both terrifying and exhilarating. Without any backup, Hawk had to rely on his wits and training to navigate deep into hostile enemy territory. Alex could only do so much flying a drone from several thousand miles away. If he got caught, Hawk would either be condemned to captivity or possibly death. The margin for error had been reduced to zero. He had no friends in this part of the world controlled by Al Hasib, at least none he knew of. He had no favors to call in. He didn’t even have official permission from his own country to be in Iraq, though Pentagon brass would treat him like a hero if he succeeded.
But the if was big, hanging in the
