Locked On

This was a breach of protocol for a meeting with the chief executive. Wes McMullen, the President’s chief of staff, should have been approached by Alden if he wanted more time with the President. Wes was standing right there, he had been ignored, and he was determined to nip thied to nis in the bud.

“Guys, the President has a one-thirty Rose Garden stand-up with a—”

“Wes,” Kealty said. “It’s okay. Just give us a few minutes.”

McMullen was as suspicious as he was frustrated, but he did as his boss told him and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Kealty sat on the couch with Alden and Thayer facing him. By looking at both men, he recognized immediately that his campaign manager did not know what was about to be discussed.

“What is it, Charles?”

Alden drummed his fingers on his knees while he carefully chose his words. “Mr. President, some information has come into my possession that makes me believe there is credible evidence that this Clark character was involved in the capture of the Emir.”

Thayer and Kealty both sat there with their mouths slightly open. Softly Kealty said, “What the hell are you talking about? What evidence, and why am I just hearing about this?”

“To insulate you, Mr. President. I think it’s best that I don’t say anything else.”

But Kealty shook his head. “Justice says the Emir was likely dumped on us by a foreign intelligence agency. Do we believe now that Clark is spying for another country?”

Alden shook his head. “That is not Clark. I’ve read every scrap of paper that’s ever been written about the son of a bitch. Not in a million years would he work for a foreign power.”

Thayer leaned in closer. “Then what the fuck is he?”

“He is… he must be… working for someone here. Someone waving the flag. But not CIA. Definitely not CIA.”

“What are you not saying?”

“The FBI did not get any wind of what Clark was working on from CIA. But within the FBI itself… There are faint rumors about an off-the-books organization stocked with certain analytical and operational capabilities. Like a private spy shop. FBI has suspicions that some in their house know about it, but getting any concrete evidence is like nailing Jell-O to the wall.”

Edward Kealty literally gasped. “You are talking about a shadow government? Some sort of sub rosa American enterprise?”

“Nothing else makes a damn bit of sense,” Alden said.

Benton Thayer was slower than the other two; he had no experience with either the military or intelligence communities, and hadn’t thought much about how they were organized. But he did understand one aspect. “The Emir will know if Clark captured him. We get the Emir to ID him, and then Clark is fucking toast. And if Clark goes down, then Jack Ryan goes down with him.”

Kealty was still gobsmacked by this new information. But he retained the presence of mind to say, “The Emir is under lock and key, with DOJ restrictions on the intel he can provide.”

Thayer just shook his head. “You are the President of the United States. Just tell Brannigan to loosen the reins on the PCI. We can get everything we need.”

Kealty, the consummate political animal, thought of a new angle to his problem. “But the Emir is the most unsympathetic witness we could possibly have on our side in this. So what if he IDs Clark? Then Clark comes off looking like a hero for capturing the man. Think about it! Doesbout it! it bother us that there may be some sort of off-the-books spy shop out there? Fuck, yes! But is the tenth district of Ohio, or the third district of Florida, or any one of the other battleground states, going to support the trial of the guy who caught the Emir? I don’t see it.”

Alden shrugged. “We don’t care if Clark goes to prison for this. But if we can implicate Ryan… If Clark is involved, maybe Ryan is involved, as well. Think about it. Who else would Clark work for on something as shady as an off-the-books intelligence house?”

Kealty said, “We will need Clark in hand to answer that question. We can offer him limited immunity, or even total immunity, to dump this on Jack Ryan.”

Alden nodded. “I like it.”

But Kealty then said, “But without Clark, we are dead in the water.”

Alden looked to Thayer now. “May I have one minute alone with the President?”

Thayer just nodded without checking with Kealty himself. He felt incredibly out of his depth, and he had a suspicion something was about to happen that he would not want to be involved in. So he rose from the couch and headed straight out of the office, closing the door behind him.

“Chuck?” Ed Kealty leaned forward, almost whispered.

“Mr. President. Just between you and me… I can get John Clark.”

“We need him alive.”

“I understand.”

Kealty started to speak, his mouth opened to utter the word how, but he stopped himself. Instead he just said, “Just between you and me, Chuck… do it.”

Alden rose, and the two men shook hands with hard looks between them.

Nothing else was said before the deputy director of the CIA left the Oval Office.

47

Deputy Director of the Central Intelligence Agency Charles Alden reached Paul Laska just after midnight. The old man was home in his bed, but he’d given Alden a number that would allow him to be contacted, no matter the hour.

“Hello?”

“Paul. It’s Charles.”

“I did not expect to hear from you. You told me you wouldn’t get involved past what you’ve already done.”

“It’s too late for that. Kealty has pulled me in.”

“You can refuse him, you know. He won’t be President for much longer.”

Alden thought this over for a moment. Then he said, “It’s in everyone’s interest that we capture John Clark. We have to find out who he’s working with. How he managed to catch the Emir. Who the other people are in his group.”

“I understand Mr. Clark has left the United States, and the CIA is working on this overseas.”

“Your network of intelligence assets rivals my own, Paul.”

A slight chuckle from the old man in his bed. “What can I do for you?”

“I am worried that despite my wishes and intentions, my colleagues at the Central Intelligence Agency will be disinclined to put the full might of their powers into the hunt for John Clark. The rank and file reveresu the man. I’ve got everyone hunting for him, but these are hunters who are just going through the motions. And I… I mean, Kealty is on one hell of a time constraint.”

After a long pause Laska said, “You would like my help in bringing in outsiders to do the work that needs to be done.”

“That is it exactly.”

“I know someone who can help us.”

“I thought you might.”

“Fabrice Bertrand-Morel.”

The pause was brief now. Charles Sumner Alden said, “He owns an investigation concern in France, I believe?”

“Correct. He runs the largest international private detective firm there is, with offices all over the world. If Clark has left the U.S., then Fabrice Bertrand-Morel’s men will ferret him out.”