Vince Flynn: Pursuit of Honor

MCLEAN, VIRGINIA

NASH opened the front door and stepped outside. He was wearing a white dress shirt and black slacks. Charlie was on his left hip, already bathed and in his pajamas. Rory was out in the middle of the street with his two friends and Jack was playing whiffle ball. Nash checked his watch. The reservations were for eight, and they hadn’t been easy to get. The manager told Nash that they were full, but he could wait in the bar and see what opened up. Nash gave him his name to put on the waiting list and the man practically lost it. “Is this the Mike Nash? The one who was given the medal by the president?”

Nash reluctantly confirmed that he in fact was that Mike Nash, and then the man went berserk. He offered the best table in the house, any time he wanted, and insisted on paying. It was about the only good thing that had come out of his public outing so far. Maggie came down the stairs in a little black cocktail dress and a wrap. She joined her husband and Charlie on the front stoop. She was all done up for the evening and she looked great.

“You look fabulous, honey,” Nash said.

“Thanks, so do you.”

Charlie smiled at his mom. Nash yelled, “Come on, boys! Everyone inside!”

“But, Dad,” Jack protested, “we only have one more inning. It’s not even dark yet.”

Nash looked to the west. “I don’t see the sun, do you?”

“It’s still light out.”

Nash handed Charlie to his wife. “Why don’t you give him to Shannon and tell her to put him down. I’ll get these clowns rounded up.” Nash made the exchange with his wife and then marched down the sidewalk.

Jack whacked the yellow plastic bat on the ground. “Not fair, Dad!”

“Life isn’t fair. Get your butt inside.” Jack tried to protest again, but Nash cut him off. “Jack, I’m not going to tell you again. I didn’t say you couldn’t have fun. You guys have a Ping-Pong table in the basement, hundreds of movies, and an Xbox. Get your little butt inside, and I’m not going to tell you again.”

Rory stepped forward. “Come on, guys. We’ll play you in Madden 360.”

Nash and all four kids walked in the house. When they got to the kitchen, Jack plopped down in a chair and ran a hand over his freckled face. “Can we at least have a can of pop?”

Nash nodded. “You can each have one can. And if you decide to microwave some popcorn, hit the popcorn button on the microwave. That’s all you have to do. One of you two keeps burning it and it stinks up the whole house.”

“How do you know it’s not Shannon?” Jack asked.

“Because she’s the only person who picks up after herself around here, and I’ve seen her make popcorn.”

Maggie entered the kitchen. “I’m ready.”

“One last thing, boys. No one leaves this house. No one answers the door. When your mom and I leave I’m going to turn the alarm on. If you guys turn it off, my phone will beep and I will paddle some major ass. Do you understand?”

All four boys nodded.

“Good.” Nash looked toward the staircase and in a louder voice said, “Shannon, we’re taking off.”

She bounded down the steps a few seconds later and came cruising into the kitchen. “Have a great time.” She kissed her dad on the cheek.

“No one leaves the house. Understand?”

“Yes!” she said in a dramatic voice. “I heard you the first four times. You two go and have a good time. We’ll be fine.”

“Come on,” Maggie said, grabbing his arm. “The restaurant is only a mile from here.

Nash followed his wife into the mudroom. He stopped at his locker and opened his gun safe. There were several options. For tonight he grabbed the subcompact .40 caliber G27 and its small leather holster. At the back door he armed the security system and then left and locked the door. Back in the kitchen Shannon and her brothers shared a conspiratorial look and then darted to the front of the house. They dropped to the floor and crawled into the dining room. From the big window they watched their mom and dad back down the driveway and leave. None of them moved for close to a minute and then they sprang to life.

Jack announced, “All right . . . Let’s go. We were up two runs going into the top of the seventh.”

“But the security system?” Rory’s blond friend asked.

“He’s been saying that for years,” Jack scoffed. “I’ve already tested it. He has no idea if we turn it off or leave it on.” Jack punched in the code at the front door and disarmed the system.

Shannon came back from the kitchen and handed Rory the baby monitor. “Here.”

Rory took it without protest. “Be careful.”

“Be careful with what?” Jack asked.

“I’m just going to drive around the block a few times.”

Jack shook his head. “You’re crazy. If Dad catches you, he’ll kill you.”

“Jack, I’m only driving around the block! It’s not a big deal.”

“They why did you wait for them to leave?”

“Why did you wait for them to leave?”

Jack thought about it for a second. As much as he hated to admit it, she was right, although playing whiffle ball after dark was not a crime. “You’re not a good driver. What if you hit something?”

“Come on, Jack, she’s just going around the block. Stop arguing and let’s get out there or we really will be out of light.”

“What if he calls?”

Shannon held up her cell phone. “He always calls my cell.”

“Fine, let’s go.”

The four boys headed out the front door with the baby monitor and the bat and balls and Shannon went out the back door with the keys for the minivan. It took her three attempts to get it out of the garage, and she only backed over one small shrub on her way down the driveway. The boys stopped play to watch her as she inched her way into the street and then put it in drive and moved off at a snail’s pace. At the end of the block she hit her blinker and took a right turn. The boys resumed play. Six pitches and two hits later she appeared at the other end of the block. The boys all moved to the side and shook their heads at her as she did another slow pass-by. Then they started to play again and forgot all about her.

FAIRFAX COUNTY, VIRGINIA

RAPP sat across the table from Hakim al Harbi and tried to make sense of it all. He’d seen a lot of strange stuff in the nearly two decades that he had been doing this, but this was a first. They’d flipped guys before, but always after exercising either pressure or incentive. They all broke eventually, but most of these militant types had to be threatened to within an inch of their lives before they would give any good information. There were others, not the front-line troops, but the support people, who helped purchase weapons and other supplies. The moneymen and the deal makers who traveled around the Middle East raising capital and recruiting new bodies for the cause, they could be turned with nothing more than the hint of violence on one hand and the possibility of hard cash on the other if they cooperated. That in itself told him that maybe this Hakim fellow was nothing more than a logistics guy, but then again he had freely admitted to killing American and coalition soldiers in Afghanistan.

On the flight up they’d pulled him out of the bag and given him a drug to counteract the tranquilizer. He woke up groggy, but in obvious pain and discomfort. After a brief inspection they found out that in addition to a bruised and battered face, he had at least two broken ribs and one lung on the verge of collapsing. Wicker was a trained medic. He pulled Rapp aside and told him to be careful. If the other lung collapsed the man could die. Rapp didn’t care so much if the man died, he just wanted to get the information out of him first. Until he was in better condition they would have to hold off on the rough stuff.