Steve Berry - The Jefferson Key

Carbonell sat straight, hands folded on the table, eyes intent on the president. Her features remained expressionless, even in the face of an angry commander in chief.

“Why did you have Wyatt in New York?” Daniels asked her.

“I required outside assistance to counter pressure I was receiving from CIA and NSA.”

“Explain yourself.”

“A few hours ago someone tried to kill me.”

The room fell into a hush.

Carbonell cleared her throat. “I wasn’t planning on bringing it up in this meeting, but an automated weapon was waiting for me in my residence.”

Daniels hesitated only a moment. “And the importance of that? Besides the fact that you could be dead.”

“Wyatt was in New York to help me decipher the recent actions of some of my colleagues. We were meeting to discuss the situation. But a CIA deputy director and another deputy from NSA interrupted that meeting and took Wyatt. I would like to know the purpose of that action.”

She was good, Cassiopeia thought. Carbonell had yet to answer a question, but she’d managed to shift attention away from herself. Her inquiry clearly interested some of the others around the table, who stared at CIA, and another man whom Davis identified as the NSA director.

“Mr. President,” CIA said. “This woman has been conspiring with the Commonwealth. She may well have been involved in the attempt on your life.”

“Do you have proof of that?” Carbonell calmly asked.

“I don’t need proof,” Daniels said to her. “I just need to be convinced. So tell me, did you have any involvement with the attempt on my life?”

“I did not.”

“Then how did Wyatt get himself right smack in the middle of things? He was there, in the Grand Hyatt. We know that. He directed agents straight to Cotton Malone. He involved Malone in the whole thing.”

“He has a personal vendetta against Malone,” Carbonell said. “He set Malone up, involving him in the attempt on your life, unbeknownst to me. I fired him just before CIA and NSA took him away.”

“Wyatt just shot up Monticello,” Daniels said. “He stole a rare artifact. A cipher wheel. Did you arrange for that to happen?”

“The shooting or the stealing?”

“You choose. And, by the way, I’ve never liked a smart-ass.”

“As I said, Mr. President, I fired Wyatt yesterday. He no longer works for me. I think the CIA or NSA is in a better position to answer the question of what happened after I terminated him.”

“So, do any of you have any knowledge of the plot to kill me?” the president asked.

The table stirred at the pointed question.

“We were unaware there was a plot,” one of them said.

“You’re damn right there was,” Daniels said. “I asked a question. Ms. Carbonell, how about you answer first.”

“I knew nothing of any assassination plot.”

“Liar,” CIA said.

Carbonell kept her composure. “I only know that Wyatt lured Cotton Malone to the Grand Hyatt, hoping Malone would stop the attempt. Then Wyatt directed agents toward Malone. He apparently was hoping one of them would shoot him. He reported this to me after it happened. I realized immediately that things were way out of control. So I severed all connection with him.”

“You should have arrested him,” one of the others around the table said.

“As I’ve already said, he was in the custody of CIA and NSA after I did what I did. Seems they are the ones who need to explain why he was not arrested.”

“She’s good,” Cassiopeia said.

“And she’s holding back,” Davis said.

Cassiopeia’s eyes seemed to communicate exactly what she was thinking.

“I know,” Davis said. “I’m doing the same thing. But can we keep things close a little while longer.”

“To what end?”

“Hell if I know.”

“Where’s Wyatt now?” Daniels asked the room.

“He attacked the two men we sent to interrogate him,” CIA said. “And escaped.”

“Were you planning on reporting any of this?” the president asked.

No reply.

“Who sent the police after Cotton Malone in Richmond, Virginia?”

“We did,” CIA said. “We ascertained that Malone emailed to himself a classified document. He then accessed it from a hotel in Richmond. We asked the locals to pick him up for questioning.”

“Don’t bother him again,” Daniels ordered. “Ms. Carbonell, are you in communication with the Commonwealth?”

She shook her head. “My contact to them was found dead last evening in Central Park, as was another of my agents in a nearby hotel. Two more were seriously injured. They were apparently shot by a Commonwealth operative they were attempting to apprehend.”

“You have four people down?” CIA asked her.

“I agree. It’s tragic. We contained the situation quickly and kept a lid on it. We’re searching for that Commonwealth operative now. He will be found.”

“Why did CIA and NSA want to speak to Wyatt?” Daniels asked.

“We, too,” CIA said, “were curious as to Wyatt’s involvement with what happened in New York.”

“Why?”

The president’s curt inquiry triggered more silence.

“It’s simply a question,” Daniels said. “How did you know Wyatt was even in New York?”

More silence.

Then, from NSA, “We’ve been watching NIA and Ms. Carbonell.”

“Why?”

“He’s screwing with them,” Davis said. “He does that to me all the time. Just one why after another, forcing you down a path that he’s already walked. He’s just waiting for you to catch up.”

“She’s interfering with our prosecution of the Commonwealth,” NSA said. “That group is well known to us all and is a danger to our national security. The decision was made to eliminate it. NIA and Ms. Carbonell disagree with that decision. We wondered why. Too much loyalty there under the circumstances. We knew she’d employed Wyatt, we just didn’t know all that was about to happen. If we had, we would taken preventive measures.”

“That’s comforting to know,” Daniels said, his sarcasm clear.

“When we learned Malone was the man in the video,” CIA said, “we realized something strange was up.”

“Okay, let me see if I have this straight,” Daniels said. “Somebody, identity unknown, tries to blow me up. A contract player, Jonathan Wyatt, is involved. At least three intelligence agencies knew that Wyatt was in New York doing something. Two of you were already investigating NIA and its director. What Wyatt was doing in New York, none of you is willing to admit. But two of you are curious enough to take Wyatt into custody, yet he escapes. And most important, four agents are down.”

No one said a word.

“You folks are about as useful as tits on a boar hog. How about this, which one of you sent men into the Garver Institute last night and murdered one of its employees?”

No reply.

“No one going to claim that one? I wouldn’t think so.”

“Carbonell probably did it herself,” Cassiopeia said.

Davis nodded. “Makes the most sense.”

“I want each of you to know that we’re investigating this, independent of you. If Wyatt lured Malone to New York, that meant he knew what was about to happen. If he knew, others knew. Hence, a plot.”

“We need to find Wyatt,” one of the men said.

“FBI director,” Davis noted. “The only one around that table we can actually trust. A straight shooter.”

“I’d say that should be tops on your list,” Daniels said. “What about those two automated weapons from the hotel rooms? What have you learned?”

“Sophisticated engineering,” the FBI director said. “Well made. Malone disabled the one with shots from the other that shorted out its electronics. They were both radio-controlled. No way, though, to ascertain from where, though a radius of about three miles was the receiver’s range.”