Дэвид Балдаччи - The Sixth Man

“So do you think you can really pull this off?”

“With a little luck and a little help from some friends,” said Sean.

ELLEN FOSTER WALKED down the hall as though she owned the place, nodding and smiling to people she knew. They all smiled back, for she was a Cabinet secretary and thus was owed substantial deference. While it was true that a person had never gone from being secretary of Homeland Security to the office of the president, there was something in Foster’s demeanor that hinted the woman believed she could be the first.

The Secret Service agent respectfully nodded to her and opened the door. She was not in the Oval Office that was used primarily for ceremonial purposes. She was instead in the president’s working chambers in the West Wing. This was where the real action took place.

The man himself rose to greet her. The only other person in the room was the president’s national security advisor, a bulky man with a perpetual scowl and a twenty-year-old comb-over. They all sat and engaged in some perfunctory pleasantries that none of them gave a damn about. Then they settled down to business. This was a hastily arranged meeting crammed between two others, so Foster knew her time was limited. She got to the point as soon as the president sat back, the cue for her to present her agenda.

“Mr. President. I hoped to be bringing you better news, but I’m sorry to have to inform you that the E-Program matter has become untenable.”

The president slid off his glasses and put them on the desk. He aimed a glance at his national security advisor, whose expression could hardly become any more melancholy. The notepad he was holding quivered slightly in his hands. He put it down on the table next to him and capped his pen. No notes of this.

“Give me the essential details, Ellen,” said the president.

When she finished, the president leaned back in his chair. “This is truly unbelievable.”

“I concur, sir,” said Foster smoothly. “It’s one reason that I kept requesting more control over the E-Program. Because of its limited success, Peter Bunting really has been given a free hand to operate. Oversight measures that would routinely be in place weren’t. It’s far more due to the relevant congressional bodies, Mr. President, than the executive side. But the situation has become fraught with risk for everyone .”

The president’s face flushed. “It’s a nightmare enough that our top analyst is sitting in Cutter’s Rock accused of six murders. I talked to Bunting directly about this. He assured me the situation was under control. That whatever happened with Edgar Roy would not affect the program’s ongoing viability.”

“I can’t speak for Mr. Bunting, of course, sir, but from what I’ve seen the situation could not be more out of control.”

“And now you’re telling me that you suspect Bunting of orchestrating a series of killings, including that of an FBI agent. My God.” He aimed another glance at his advisor, who sat with his hands in his lap but chose not to speak.

“I know it comes as a shock, sir,” said Foster. “As it did to me when I learned about it barely an hour ago. That’s why I requested this meeting. And to make matters even worse, we actually suspect him of involvement in a fifth death.”

Both men stared at her, waiting for an elaboration.

“There was an E-Program recruit named Sohan Sharma. He made it all the way to the Wall. He failed that test miserably and was supposedly discharged through the normal protocols.”

“But you suspect otherwise?” asked the president.

“Shortly after he failed the Wall, Sohan Sharma was killed in a car accident. I’ve seen the autopsy report. His neck was broken. But the ME suspects that Sharma was already dead when the accident occurred.”

“Meaning Bunting had him killed? Why?” asked the president.

“My sources tell me that Sharma was his last hope to find a suitable replacement for the outgoing Analyst. When Sharma failed, I believe that Bunting simply snapped and had him killed. Bunting is under enormous pressure with the E-Program, sir. Another of its drawbacks. I really don’t think the man is stable.”

“Unbelievable,” said the president, shaking his head. “What a damn debacle. And on my watch.”

The advisor coughed and said, “Your being on top of this is appreciated, Ellen.”

Foster flashed him an appreciative look. This had not occurred by happenstance. She had spoken at length with the man about this exactly sixty minutes ago. She did so because his support was critical for her goals.

The president looked back at Foster. “You have to stay in the loop on this, Ellen. I know you’ve been hamstrung on this to an unconscionable degree, but I really want you on this.”

“I will have no higher priority.”

“I’m assuming the CIA is up to speed?”

“Yes. I’ve personally filled in the director. Now, I do think it imperative, after we successfully handle the E-Program matter, that fundamental structural changes be put into place.”

“I would welcome your input,” said the advisor, and the president nodded in agreement.

Foster said grimly, “For far too long we’ve put all of our eggs in one basket. And while there are those who still complain about interagency cooperation being a problem, that really is simply not true. And the key is redundancy. I’ve been preaching that ever since I took over at DHS. With responsibility and intelligence analysis spread over multiple platforms, this current situation never would have happened. I don’t think we could put too high a value on avoiding that in the future.”

“Completely agree with that assessment,” said the president. “It’s spot-on. I’ve never been comfortable with the E-Program arrangement, despite, as you say, its limited successes.”

“I knew that, sir. Your instincts have always been rock-solid.”

Actually, this president had lauded the results of the E-Program’s clandestine work at every available opportunity, chiefly because its widespread successes had lifted his approval rating to new highs. But the three people in this room also knew that facts were never allowed to get in the way of political survival.

“And what of Bunting?” asked the president.

“I’m working with the FBI to build the case against him. It can be handled discreetly. The media will never know the full story, nor should they. National security cannot be compromised simply because a megalomaniac somehow got to the top of the food chain in his field.”

“And Edgar Roy?” asked the advisor.

“A different problem,” admitted Foster.

“Do you think he’s guilty?” asked the president. “Of murdering the six men?”

Foster tapped one of her fingernails on the desk. “Roy is a strange man. I’ve met him a few times. I could easily see him having a dark side. Whether he indeed did kill those men is not something I can answer definitively. But I can tell you that even if he is eventually tried and acquitted, it will be a long and messy road. There will be requests filed by his attorneys that could reveal much. Far too much.”

The advisor stirred. “Things we do not want revealed. Things we can’t reveal.”

“Precisely,” said Foster. “And the same holds true for Bunting. If he’s really involved in the deaths of these people, it will be a media circus the likes of which we have never seen. And from what I know of Bunting, he will use every resource he has to escape punishment for his crimes.”

“You mean even revealing classified material?” said the president with a startled look. “But we would never allow that.”

“There is only one person Peter Bunting looks out for and that is Peter Bunting. You can trust me on that. He can sell a bill of goods to anybody, but that’s all it is.”