Nash licked his lips and croaked, “What exactly am I going along with?”
“This,” the president said, “is a medal ceremony. For your bravery under fire last week.”
Nash looked past his boss and the president and smiled awkwardly at his wife and kids. Off to his right someone began snapping photos, which for an intelligence officer was a close second to someone shooting at you with a large- caliber gun. “Is that a reporter?” he asked nervously.
“Yes,” the president said.
“But I’m Non-Official Cover,” Nash protested. “I can’t have my photo taken.”
“Don’t worry about it,” the president continued casually, “you’re being promoted.”
“Enjoy it, Mike,” Kennedy said, “Very few of us get this chance.”
“What chance?” Nash asked out of the side of his mouth.
“Receiving an award in the Oval Office.” The president stepped aside and placed a hand on Nash’s elbow. “Usually, you guys have to die to get something like this. Relax and enjoy it.”
“I’m not sure I want it,” Nash muttered.
“Nonsense. The CIA could use a little boost in morale… Hell after last week, we all could.” The president started walking Nash toward his family. “Your wife is lovely, and so are your kids. They’re very proud of you.”
Kennedy grabbed his other arm. “We’re all proud of you, Mike. You deserve a little recognition.”
Nash turned to Kennedy and snarled, “What about Mitch?”
Kennedy looked straight ahead and said, “We’ll talk about that later. Just try to relax and enjoy.”
Nash wanted to talk about it now, but his wife was already moving toward him with the kids. Nash was still trying to figure out how Rapp had gotten out of this when he noticed the tears in his wife’s eyes. His anger toward Rapp was shoved aside as Maggie reached up and planted one on his lips. Charlie, the cussed little towhead, managed to wiggle out of his mother’s arms and latch on to his dad. The other three kids all came up for a hug, and then it was on to the individual members of the president’s National Security team. It took a good five minutes to get through all the handshakes and backslapping. By the time the rounds were done Nash was feeling considerably better.
When they got down to the actual medal ceremony, Nash handed Charlie back to Shannon, his fifteen-year- old, and Maggie took her position on his right side in front of the celebrated fireplace. Things turned serious when Kennedy handed the president the citation and opened the blue velvet box. As the president read the words aloud, Nash felt as if he were having an out-of-body experience.
“On behalf of a grateful nation it is my honor to present to you the highest award achievable by a member of the intelligence community, the Distinguished Intelligence Cross, for a voluntary act of extraordinary heroism involving the acceptance of existing dangers with conspicuous fortitude and exemplary courage.” The president paused and looked at Nash and Maggie and smiled. “Thank you for your dedication, service, and sacrifice. Your decisive and brave actions during the terrorist attack on the National Counterterrorism Center saved the lives of countless individuals. You stand before us as a living, breathing example of honor, valor, and heroism. This great nation will forever be in your debt, and we hope that future generations of Americans will look to your actions for inspiration during turbulent times.”
Kennedy presented the medal to Maggie, who took it from the silk-lined case as if it were an ancient family heirloom. She gently looped it over her husband’s head and kissed him on the cheek. Next came photos. Lots of them. First as a group and then individual shots and then finally the Nash family. When they were all finished Nash was in for one more surprise.
The president approached him and said, “Director Kennedy thinks it would be a good idea if your family stayed in here while we step outside.”
Nash wasn’t quite following, but he got the sense it wasn’t good. “What’s outside?”
The president glanced toward the glass door just behind and to the left of his desk. “The press. They’re waiting for us.”
You would have thought the president had asked him to address the nation. “I don’t do press, sir.”
Kennedy appeared on cue along with Secretary of State Wicka and Secretary of Defense England. Wicka said, “Nonsense. You’re exactly what we need right now. A good-looking hero.”
“And a retired Marine officer,” England added. “Don’t forget that part.”
“Don’t worry,” the president said. “We’ll do all the talking. Just stand there and be yourself.”
Nash looked at Kennedy for help. Once he walked out that door there would be no turning back. “Irene?”
“Just let it go, Mike. This is bigger than just you. Think of all the people at Langley who get kicked around in the press every day. They’ll all be able to go home tonight and hold their heads a little higher knowing there’s honor in what we do.”
CHAPTER 53
WHEN he awoke in the morning, the sun was filtering in through the sheer white shades. Hakim blinked several times before he could focus. There was a DVD player on a shelf under the TV. Four small blue numbers stared back at him. If the device was right, it was nine-forty-one in the morning. Hakim looked down and saw the blood on his shirt. He opened his mouth and felt the dry, caked blood on his lips. He remembered the coughing fit and the blood and the dead man on the porch and the woman in the bedroom and knew he hadn’t dreamed any of it. Not with Karim around. He was a living breathing Angel of Death.
Hakim didn’t have the strength to get up, so he grabbed the remote sitting on the end table and pressed the power button. A moment later two anchors from a twenty-four-hour news channel were on the screen. Ahmed must have heard the TV. He entered the living room with glass of water and a washcloth.
“How are you feeling?” he asked softly.
Hakim wasn’t sure. He was all beat up inside, but his breathing was better than it had been yesterday. “I’m alive.” He glanced over Ahmed’s shoulder and asked, “Where is Karim?”
A frown came over Ahmed’s face and he said, “He is outside.”
“Doing what?”
“He is very upset.”
“About?”
“You.” Ahmed shook his head. “He thinks you are causing us problems.”
Hakim told himself not to get angry. He wasn’t the one who had gotten them into this predicament. “What kind of problems?”
Ahmed shrugged his big shoulders and tried to remember the exact words. “He said you have become an operational liability.”
“Me?” Hakim asked with genuine surprise. In better times he would have laughed, but not now. “He thinks I am the problem. What do you think, Ahmed?”
“It is not my place to think. I am trained to follow orders.”
“Are you a monkey? If he orders you to shoot yourself will you do it?”
Ahmed took the washcloth and dabbed Hakim’s chin, “You look horrible.”
“And you did not answer my question.”
Ahmed worked on a crusted piece of blood. “There is enough arguing between the two of you. You don’t need me to join in.”
“Let me ask it a different way then. You were trained to think tactics. Did you think I had things handled back in Iowa… at the house? Did you feel he needed to step outside and shoot them?”
“What if they had been police?”
“If they had been police, we would be dead right now. Shooting them would have solved nothing. The best course was to wait and see. Besides, the police don’t use young boys. They were simply a father and son looking to do some hunting.”
“But we did not know that at the time,” Ahmed said.
“We?” Hakim asked. “You mean you and Karim did not know, and you did not know because you have spent no
