Andrew Britton - The Assassin

Andrews rested his arms on the desk and interlaced his fingers. “I have to tell you, John, it pisses me off that you knew about this before I did. Of course, we both know it’s more than that, don’t we?” The director’s gaze was probing. “After all, you supported the embassy raid from the start.”

“Bob, if you’re suggesting that I signed off on what happened last night-”

“I’m not ‘suggesting’ anything. I’m telling you that I know what you did. How else would Kealey get access to a car from the motor pool? I know he’s done a lot for us, but he’s only been here four years. He doesn’t know the procedure, and he doesn’t have the authority. You covered your tracks well, John, but I don’t have the time or the patience to beat around the bush. What were you trying to accomplish? Ruhmann’s ties to the attacks in Baghdad and Paris are sketchy at best. Do you really think his location is worth the kind of fallout that we’re about to endure?”

“Sir, we managed to link Ruhmann to Kassem, Vanderveen, and al-Umari-”

“Maybe so, but it wasn’t enough to convince the president, was it? And when the break-in comes back to us, what happens then?”

Before Harper could answer, the telephone chirped softly. Andrews snatched it up and spoke a few harsh, dismissive words. He replaced the receiver, but Ford stepped in before he could pick up the thread. “Well?”

Harper ignored her. “Bob, the Germans can search every database they have, and so can the FBI. They’re never going to find a record of Kealey’s fingerprints. They might have his blood, but they have nothing to match it to. I talked to him. I know he disabled the cameras before he went in. There is no feasible way this can be traced back to us. People were hurt… okay. So what? That happens occasionally in this business. No one was killed. This will all be forgotten in a matter of weeks, and because of Ryan’s efforts, we are now in a position to move forward.”

Ford scowled. “Jonathan, I don’t think you fully appreciate the severity of this situation. If anyone even hints at our involvement, our diplomatic relations with Germany will be damaged beyond repair.”

“This is not the State Department,” Harper shot back. “And you’re not on the oversight committee anymore. We are not charged with maintaining diplomatic relations. Will Vanderveen has murdered U.S. soldiers and citizens. He has attacked this country on several occasions. In my opinion, the chance to track him down is worth a few hurt feelings on the international front and a damn sight more.”

It was the unvarnished truth, or at least the way he saw it. Harper fully expected his little speech to make things worse, but while Ford’s face turned a deep shade of scarlet, the DCI merely nodded plaintively.

“What about a career, John? Would you say that finding him is worth the career of, say, a talented young CTC analyst? One of our best and brightest?”

Harper tensed involuntarily. “Kharmai?”

“Exactly.”

“What are you talking about? She wasn’t even there.”

“That’s bullshit,” Ford announced. Turning to her right, she said, “You can’t possibly believe that. He knew damn well where she was last night, because he sent them both.”

Andrews frowned. Harper could see him wavering, but finally, he seemed to accept the denial at face value. “I don’t know where Kealey left her — she didn’t come back to Langley with him — but she was definitely at the embassy,” the director said. “The Metro police cruisers all have dash-mounted cameras.”

“You saw the tape?”

“No. I didn’t need to. The officer woke up this morning and gave his statement, which we got hold of shortly thereafter. The name the woman gave him was Sara Brown. Not real, of course, and not particularly original, but that’s beside the point. His description matched Kharmai to a T, right down to the accent.

“The dots connect themselves,” Andrews continued, his voice dropping to a more reasonable level. “People are going to figure this out, John. It might come out of this building, or it might come out of the White House, but the point is, it will come out. She’s got to go. Kealey too. Their days at the Agency are numbered. It’s that simple.”

Harper nodded stiffly, vaguely aware of Ford’s triumphant smile. “When?”

“They’re suspended without pay, effective immediately. We’ll ease them out by the end of the month. I’ll let you deal with Kealey; frankly, I’d be happy to never see him again. You’ve known him for a long time, and he’s done a lot for us. That’s the only reason he’s not facing charges. The same for Kharmai, and she has my word on that: she’s free and clear if she goes quietly. I want to talk to her face-to-face. We can bring her up now, if you like. Or you can break the news to her first. It’s up to you.”

“There’s no point in drawing it out,” Harper decided at length. “She’ll be expecting it anyway.”

“Fine.” Andrews lifted the receiver and punched a button. “Diane, ask Naomi Kharmai to report to my office, please. You should find her in Science and Technology. If she’s not there, try McLean.”

He replaced the receiver, leaned back in his chair, and appraised his guest. After a time, he turned to Ford and said, “Rachel, would you mind excusing us for a moment?”

She didn’t look happy, but she’d gotten her way, and for the moment, that seemed to be enough. She nodded curtly, stood, and walked out.

Andrews looked at his desk for a long time, a number of emotions passing over his ruddy features. Clearly, the whole situation was not sitting well with him, and it wasn’t just anger at the way things had turned out.

“John, what happened here?” he finally asked. “How many times have I looked to you for advice since I was nominated? How many times have you pulled my ass out of the fire? You’re probably the smartest man in the building. It doesn’t make sense.”

Harper shook his head wearily. “I looked at the facts, and I made a decision. What else can I say?”

“You didn’t ‘make a decision.’ You violated a direct order from the president, for Christ’s sake. What the hell were you thinking?”

“The president is wrong,” Harper replied flatly. “I don’t know what kind of bullshit the Bureau is feeding him, but the Iranians were not involved in Baghdad or Paris. This all comes down to somebody in the insurgency. Vanderveen can tell us who that is, and the only way to find him is through Ruhmann. It was the right call, and I’d do it again.”

Andrews shook his head in disbelief. He had worked in bureaucracies all his life. He believed in the rules, and on the rare occasion he decided to break one, the decision did not come easily. Harper’s unapologetic attitude was beyond his experience. “Well, Kealey and Kharmai are your people, and you know how it works. Unfortunately, their sacrifice is not enough.”

The DDO nodded once. His chest tightened, even though he had expected as much. “So, how do we handle it? Is it a minor health issue, or do I suddenly feel the need to spend more time with my wife?”

“Neither,” was the surprising response. “I spoke to Brenneman this morning, John. He’s not happy, to say the least, but he can’t afford to lose you right now.” Catching the look on the other man’s face, he hastened to add, “He’s not doing this out of personal loyalty, so don’t get comfortable. It’s politics, like everything else. With the election coming up, he can’t afford to lose any more public support, especially over something he can actually control. So for now, we keep the status quo.”

Harper was too surprised to react right away. He couldn’t suppress the wave of relief that swept over him, although it was quickly followed by guilt. Two of his best people, after all, were about to lose their jobs. He could have done more to dissuade Kealey, and he definitely could have done more to stop Kharmai from getting involved. Before he could speak, the director’s intercom came to life. “Sir, Ms. Kharmai has arrived.”