risk helping him any further or he would be the one facing a one-man firing squad. Ahmed prayed to Allah over and over, harder and harder, begging that he would heal Hakim’s wounds and give him the strength to get away.
Ahmed did not understand any of it. He had nothing but respect for Karim. He was an amazing commander and was as good a leader as he had ever seen, but when it came to his childhood friend, he was not himself. There had been times in the past few days where he had felt as if he was watching two eight-year-old kids fight. The constant bickering. The back and forth about every petty thing they could dream up and then the decision back in Iowa to kill the father and son. It was the first time he honestly thought Karim had made a tactical mistake. Everyone made mistakes, but this one was obvious, and Ahmed couldn’t help but think it was rooted in the jealousy Karim harbored for Hakim.
Karim needed to be the hero, and everyone around him had to offer absolute subservience. That was why he stepped from the house back in Iowa and destroyed all of the careful plans and set them on this dangerous and uncharted course.
Ahmed finished counting to thirty for a second time and then kicked a pan as he walked across the kitchen floor and back into the dining room. He looked past the living room and through the big picture window. His heart leaped as he saw the hood of the white sedan ease out of the garage. He glimpsed Hakim through the windshield and thought he saw blood on his chin.
“Keep going,” he said to himself. “Don’t pass out. Allah, please give him strength. Please protect him.” Ahmed watched the car turn and accelerate past the big barn. It started winding down the driveway, a faint trail of dust kicking up, and then the taillights vanished. Ahmed exhaled a sigh of relief, but it didn’t last long. From the bedroom the noise of the running shower suddenly stopped.
CHAPTER 58
RAPP parked underneath the building and took the elevator up to the first floor. He was grinning with anticipation as he walked past the CIA’s gift shop and cafeteria. The wide double doors to the Award Suite were open and he could see a good number of people milling about inside. He crossed the threshold and paused for a brief second, his eyes sweeping the room from right to left, scanning faces just long enough to see if there were any land mines waiting for him, but not so long as to make eye contact with any single individual. Rapp tended to skip these events. Better to come and go from HQ and make as little actual contact as possible. This afternoon, however, was worth the exception.
It was a virtual who’s who of the national security community, the top dogs from every agency and department that had a hand in the alphabet soup of counterterrorism. As was standard procedure, there wasn’t a single reporter or photographer in the room. There would be plenty of time for that later, but for now, this was the one chance for the men and women of the clandestine service to poke their heads out of their rabbit holes and celebrate the bravery of a colleague. Most of these folks had the security clearance, or at least the connections, to know the full story of what had happened the afternoon of the attacks, and a good number of them were turning to get a look at Rapp-the other man who had risked his life. These professionals would whisper among themselves, but they would honor their oath. They all knew there were valid reasons for a man in Rapp’s position to keep his head down. Rapp had to be realistic, though. His role in the affair would be passed from one person to the next, and with each retelling, it was likely the facts would be warped like a rain-soaked piece of wood- impossible to know in advance just how it would turn out.
Rapp heard the squawk of a child to his left and moved in that direction. He figured there couldn’t be too many toddlers at the reception, so the odds were the noise was coming from Charlie Nash. He wanted to get in, give his congratulations to the kids and Maggie, and tell them how proud he was of their father and husband, if possible track down Art Harris for a brief update, and then get the hell out of Dodge.
Rapp made it three steps before a smiling Julie Trittin cut him off. Barely five feet tall in her heels, the petite brunette was the hotshot rising star over on the National Security Council. She’d come up through the ranks on the military side, and until a few months ago was helping run a highly sensitive operation at the Defense Intelligence Agency.
Trittin looked up at Rapp and with a mischievous smile said, “Well, well, Mitchell. Just how in the hell did you pull this off?”
Rapp cracked a dry smile and said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Julie.”
Trittin held up her champagne flute and gave him a minisalute. “I thought you would say that.” She swung around Rapp’s right side and hooked her arm through his. Leading him off to the nearest corner she whispered, “This is good.”
Rapp nodded and continued to scan the crowd. “Nice turnout.”
“You know what I mean. For morale. And by the way, where’s your medal?”
Rapp laughed off the comment.
“My sources tell me the story is a little backward about who shot who last week.”
“Your sources?”
“Don’t try to play me. I know you were the one who charged that line of men, and I know Mike was up on the catwalk firing down at them.”
“You know how some people get confused in the heat of battle. Don’t believe everything you hear.”
Trittin looked over to where Mike Nash was standing. He was surrounded by a good number of well-wishers. They were all smiling and beaming at the hero of the hour. “Well… I’m happy for both of you.”
“Both of us?” Rapp asked.
“Yes. The president was a little disappointed that you managed to sneak out of the White House this morning.”
Rapp sighed. “You know how it is, Julie… I don’t do so well around politicians.”
“Perfect segue,” Trittin said in a more serious tone. “The president wanted me to tell you that he thinks you’re an insubordinate little shit, and that your medal is waiting for you on his desk. He’d like you to personally stop by and pick it up, though.”
“I get one, too?” Rapp said in mock surprise.
“Yes, you do.” Trittin shook her head and smirked. “You really are something.”
“Thank you, Julie. I think you’re pretty special, too.”
Trittin laughed at him before turning serious. “Two more things for you. The FBI now has the lead on the search for Glen Adams.”
“Pretty standard, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but you can thank Senator Ogden for putting you at the top of the list.”
Rapp showed no outward sign of concern, but Trittin had just gotten his attention. “What list would that be?”
“The list of people who may have had something to do with his disappearance.”
“The way I heard it… he just up and left the country.”
Trittin shrugged her small shoulders and gave Rapp a who-knows-what-could-have-happened expression.
Rapp spotted the Nash kids and out of the side of his mouth said, “I also heard he’d been drinking a lot.”
“I heard the same thing, but as you know… the FBI will follow every lead.”
“Even if it comes from a vengeful partisan hack like Ogden?”
“Especially if it comes from a vengeful partisan hack like Ogden.”
“Great.”
“She might be vulnerable at the moment,” Trittin said without looking at him.
“How so?”
“A new friend of ours told me Ogden’s been telling those close to her that she thinks the attacks last week were not on the up and up.”
