“All right,” Kennedy said while checking her watch, “we can’t keep the president waiting.”
The three of them walked down the hallway. Two of Kennedy’s bodyguards fell in, one in front and one in back. Nash asked his boss, “What does the president want?”
Kennedy stole a quick glance at Rapp and then said to Nash, “I have no idea. We’ll find out when we get there.”
Rapp and Nash parted ways with their boss and went down the back stairs to where Rapp’s car was parked. C Street was closed on this side of the building and his car was parked in one of the diagonal spots. He paused at his door with his keys in hand and looked across the boulevard at the teams of special agents combing through the debris of what had been one of Washington’s most famous restaurants. The place looked more like an archeological dig than a crime scene. The big parking lot had been divided into more than a dozen sections separated by crime scene tape and orange cones. Agents were sifting through the debris with shovels and by hand. A crane was parked off to the side, just in case, but most of the heavy stuff had already been removed from the pile.
The FBI was looking for clues. Sifting through every pile of debris. This was where they excelled-gathering evidence and building a case. Finding a latent fingerprint on a detonator, tracing the detonator back to the manufacturer, and then following it every step of the way right back to who used it to commit murder. They would spend years building their case, and then as much as a decade trying to convince some foreign government to turn the individuals over. It would be a slow, tedious process.
Rapp shook his head and realized why the president wanted him to expedite things. In this particular situation he wouldn’t play the role of judge and jury, but he would gladly play the role of executioner. He got into the car, started it up and backed out. As they drove over the pop-up security barricade and took a right onto Second Street Rapp listened to a voicemail Coleman had left him. At Constitution he took another right.
A block and a half later Rapp was thinking of Coleman’s voicemail when he asked Nash, “You ever seen a shrink?” He knew Nash would think the question was a little out of bounds so he quickly added, “Irene’s been trying to get me to see one.”
“You probably should,” Nash answered without giving anything away.
“I did right after Anna was murdered. Didn’t go so well.”
Nash gave him a sideways glance. “No… I imagine it didn’t.”
“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?” Rapp said with a self-deprecating laugh.
“Guys like us aren’t very good at discussing our feelings. I don’t have anything against it. I think therapy can do a lot of good, but I also think a lot of people use it as a crutch.”
“Yeah… I suppose Maggie thinks it’s good. Anna used to try to get me to do it. Said it would be a fair way for us to resolve some of our issues.”
“Maggie says the same thing. I know she has someone she goes to from time to time. She doesn’t say much about it other than she thinks it would be good for me to sit down and talk to someone.”
Rapp turned onto Pennsylvania Avenue and added, “Our security clearance doesn’t exactly allow us to do that.”
“That’s what I keep telling her.”
Rapp was half tempted to tell him about Coleman’s message. Apparently Doc Lewis wasn’t the only shrink they had put under surveillance. Max Johnson had told Coleman that Adams had directed him to follow Maggie Nash and see what he could dig up. When he found out she was seeing a therapist twice a month, he ordered Johnson to bug the office. Mitch knew he couldn’t tell Nash, though. At least not today. He needed to get him to the White House and let him have his moment. Afterward, he would be sure to tell Nash all the sordid details before he made his decision on Adams’s fate.
They entered the White House grounds via the southwest gate and pulled into one of the visitor spots on West Executive Avenue. They handed their guns to the uniformed Secret Service officer who checked them in on the ground floor just around the corner from the Situation Room. He placed them in a locked drawer and handed them claim tickets. Rapp looked at the sign-in sheet and was pleased to see Kennedy was already here. Her security detail would have buzzed over from Capitol Hill without stopping for lights.
They walked down the short hallway and when Nash turned to the right to go to the Situation Room, Rapp grabbed his arm and said, “We’re upstairs today.”
“Where?” Nash asked in surprise. He didn’t do a lot of briefings at the White House, and none so far with this president, but when he did they were always down in the Situation Room.
“Not sure,” Rapp lied. He started up the stairs and hoped no one was loitering in the halls. This was all a bit like delivering the honoree to a surprise party. When they got to the main floor they took a U-turn and headed down the hall past the Cabinet Room. Straight ahead two big Secret Service agents in dark suits stood post outside the main door to the Oval Office. Each agent widened his stance a bit and tracked the two visitors with unblinking eyes.
Rapp knew having a couple of guys like him and Nash in the building always put these guys on edge. He locked eyes with the one on the left and said, “Gentlemen.”
They nodded, but said nothing. Rapp hung a left just before he got to them and ducked into an outer office where the president’s administrative assistant sat. He looked at the woman behind the desk and said, “Good morning, Teresa. I have Mr. Nash here to see the president.”
“He’s expecting you. Go right in.”
“Thanks.” Rapp moved to his right and stopped at the door. He stuck his left eye up against the peephole and took in the scene. They were all there-Maggie, Shannon, Rory, Jack, and Charlie, as well as most, if not all, of the president’s National Security team and the requisite pool reporters. Rapp smiled to himself, opened the door, motioned for Nash to go in first, and then as soon as Nash had crossed the threshold, Rapp closed the door behind him and put his eye back to the peephole.
CHAPTER 52
MIKE Nash stopped as if he’d just stepped into a foot of thick wet cement and looked at the smiling faces staring back at him. Some he’d never met, but recognized, and a few he knew intimately. He heard the door behind him click shut and he whipped his head around, expecting to share his surprise with Rapp. Instead, he found himself alone, staring at the door, and in that split second he realized he’d been set up. He felt his face flush with embarrassment and for a brief moment considered leaving, but knew he couldn’t. As badly as he wanted to, it would be against everything the Marine Corps had taught him about being an officer. Leaders gritted their teeth and took it, while cowards ran. As he slowly turned around, he felt he would rather have taken on an enemy platoon than this crowd.
They were all smiling, and some of them weren’t exactly known for having a happy-go-lucky demeanor. There was the secretary of defense, secretary of state, national security advisor, director of national intelligence, FBI director, chairman of the Joint Chiefs, a few people he didn’t recognize but was sure were important, his boss, and the biggest surprise of all, his family. They were all assembled in perhaps the world’s most famous office, all eyes on him, his wife holding Charlie and blushing almost as much as her husband.
It all started to fall into place. Maggie picking out his suit, shirt, and tie, which she rarely did, making sure the kids were all bathed and in clean uniforms, and Rapp-that Judas-distracting and then delivering him like some suburban Joe to his surprise fortieth birthday party. Despite his discomfort and the bad thoughts coursing through his brain about what he’d like to do to Rapp, Nash was still smiling from ear to ear. He had no idea why, but he felt like a jackass. Everyone else was grinning back at him, nodding to each other in recognition that the surprise had worked. Nash made a promise to himself right on the spot that however long it took he would get even with Rapp.
“Mr. Nash,” the president said as he walked across his own office. “I was just informed that this is a bit of a surprise to you.”
Nash tried to speak but his mouth was too dry, so he just nodded and took the president’s extended hand. Irene Kennedy was suddenly at President Alexander’s side.
“I’m sorry, Mike, but we knew you would never have gone along with this if you’d known in advance.”
