A sea of arms shot upward, some reporters refusing to wait for the microphone before shouting out their answers.
“Wait until you get a microphone in your hand before asking your question,” the president’s press secretary reminded everyone.
Finally, one of the runners handed off a mic to Abby Gaines, a cable news network reporter. She took the microphone with her left hand, while tossing her hair back over her shoulder with her right.
“Good afternoon, Mr. President,” she said, nodding and smiling. “I was wondering if you could tell us which branch of the U.S. military was behind the errant strike and why it would target Ebadi.”
“Thank you for your question, Miss Gaines,” Young said. “I’ve been in constant communication with all the leaders of our various military branches, and there wasn’t any strike that had been authorized against Omar Ebadi or anyone else. At this point, it seems unlikely that we would’ve ever targeted Ebadi since he was a fixture at all our peace negotiations with the Taliban. Ebadi was truly one of the good guys, so it doesn’t make sense that our military would attempt to target him.”
“But obviously, someone did,” Gaines pressed further. “That seems undeniable at this point.”
Young nodded. “It certainly seems that way, but that is why we’re investigating. Not everything is as it seems in these types of situations. But this might take a while because it’s not easy to get reliable information out of that region.”
The runner hustled over to another White House correspondent, Neil Melancon, and handed him the mic.
“Mr. President, what can you tell us about Nahir Nazari? We know that he’s been on Homeland Security’s watchlist for a while now, but why go after him?”
“Again,” Young said, holding up his hands to quell the buzz around the room over Melancon’s question. “I never said that we tried to target him. The only reason we initially believed that he was dead was due to reports from sources coming out of the region.”
Melancon reframed his question. “What type of source would be this misleading?”
“As you know, Neil, the intelligence business isn’t flawless. Sometimes, mistakes are made. And unlike having to retract a story that has virtually no bearing on a person’s life, errors committed in intelligence can result in killing the wrong person. It’s obviously horrible when it happens, but it does happen. However, in this case, we’re only talking about the intelligence being reported to us. It could be the case of mistaken identity or a bad actor. We haven’t ruled anything out at this point, as we’re still searching for the source of the attack.”
Young had almost convinced himself that he was telling the truth. It was an old trick he’d learned long ago that if you intended to lie, you better believe the lie in order to sell it to the press. He was prepared for such line of questioning and anticipated Melancon would attempt to lay a trap. But Young wasn’t falling for it and could easily pivot and claim integrity if more details later emerged. For now, Young aimed to snuff out the firestorm brewing over Ebadi’s death and hope that another more captivating story soon came along to sweep away the accusation of incompetence on the administration’s intelligence leaders.
He took one more question about the incident before excusing himself and exiting the room. Secret Service agents hustled him to the basement level of the White House, where he was ushered into a secret meeting room. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, barely taking in a deep breath to look in the corner to find J.D. Blunt sitting with one leg thrown over the other while chewing on a cigar.
“Fine performance, sir,” Blunt said. “I thought you made Melancon look like the idiot that he is.”
Young chuckled. “That’s not hard. Why that guy remains on the air is a mystery to me.”
“He used to be an investigative journalist,” Blunt said. “The only logical answer that makes sense is he dug up some dirt on the channel’s news director.”
“I doubt he could do that without some help.”
Blunt shrugged. “Well, he does have well-placed sources within your administration based on his questions today.”
Young sighed deeply before sitting down. He leaned forward, his eyes locking with Blunt’s.
“So, J.D., what the hell happened out there? I thought you said this was a can’t miss operation.”
“I know, sir. And right now, we’re trying to get to the bottom of what went wrong. Let me caution you by saying this won’t be easy. Every agency in the intelligence community is going to be working overtime to cover their asses. The Phoenix Foundation can’t exactly go poking around without getting caught by someone. I can promise you, that’s the last thing you want.”
“Dammit, J.D., don’t you know this is an election year? They’re going to use this against me.”
“Look, I know how this might appear, but you know my team. They’re top notch professionals. The only way they would make a mistake like this would be some sort of sabotage or misleading information. Either way, we’re going to make it right, and you’ll be a hero in the end.”
“I’m counting on that, J.D. If not, you may have to take the fall.”
Blunt stared, mouth agape at Young. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, your little operation may cease to exist.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“It’s just a warning,” Young said. “Do your job and find out who is messing with us—and then take them out.”
“Roger that,” Blunt said. “We’ll handle it. Sleep easy tonight,
