Stephen Hunter - Dead Zero

It went on like that. Meanwhile, Susan duly informed CIA, and a damage-assessment committee began to look into the charges, and meetings were set up to deal with potential public relations problems, while at the same time, arguments were broached at the White House and the Justice Department in favor of covering up the operation after accepting Dixson’s resignation. The main worry appeared to be that some reporter would break the story, and then all havoc would come out to play.

“Sometimes I think these people lost all their goddamned moral bearings,” Swagger said. “To me it’s black and white, over and done with. The guy’s a murderer. He killed Skelton, thirty-one Afghans, Colonel Chambers, nine Filipinos, and four cops. Put him on the needle. End of story.”

“It’s not that easy,” said Nick. “In the Marine Corps it’s Us, Them. In Washington it’s Us, the Us who are with Us, the Us who are not sure about Us, and the many Us-es who don’t care. The other team, our mortal enemies, are also Us, it’s just that they happen to be against the Us that is Us; they’re the other Us, and they have other Us-es who are against Us, then their own huge numbers of people who don’t care one way or the other, and finally, between the two Us-es, there are thousands who aren’t sure yet and are waiting for a signal from the Administration, from the pundits, from the blogosphere, from party headquarters or the union or the Internet message boards about which Us is really their Us. I should add, each Us is always one hundred percent right and has never, ever acknowledged a mistake in judgment, interpretation, execution, or public relations. Dysfunctional as hell, but at least you can say this-it doesn’t work. Never has, never will. Bob, I told you this coming in. Sergeant Cruz, sorry to shock you, but political considerations will play a part. What I’m betting we get is a shake-up at the Agency-bye-bye Jack Collins and whoever was in his clique-and a compromise jail term on Dixson, maybe a soft five for conspiracy, which he’ll use to write a book making himself out to be the smartest guy in the room. That’s possible.”

“What about the scandal?” asked Bob.

“Uh, today’s press isn’t eager to discredit this president. They backed him so hard they’re invested in him. And anyhow, are you going to blow the whistle to your good friend David Banjax? I didn’t think so. So it stays out of the papers and off the news.”

“May I say something?” asked Cruz.

“Go ahead.”

“Once again, it seems like you’re accepting this at face value. It is what it is, it’s a marginal triumph for the good guys, that is, what we’ve accomplished, there’s some justice for Two-Two in it, but that’s all it is, and now it’s over. But maybe it’s not over. Maybe it’s just starting.”

“Here we go again on the conspiracy merry-go-round,” said Susan.

“Ma’am, I know how Zarzi operated around Qalat. I’ve seen young marines blown to ribbons by IEDs his people planted and then they went and hid in his off-limits compound. I don’t see how he could have this ‘change’ that everybody says he had so fast.”

“Sergeant Cruz,” she said, “I have to tell you that our people went over Zarzi time after time, from all angles, using all technologies, from drugs to polygraphs to psychological evaluation to sleep deprivation. He volunteered, he got through it easily. If he’s holding something back, it’s beyond our science to detect it, which to me at least means he’s not holding something back.”

“Sergeant Cruz, you are an extraordinary man,” said Nick. “Brave, resilient, the only man I’ve ever seen who’s the equal of Sergeant Swagger here. But there’s not a shred of evidence that anything is set for tonight. If it were there, I’d act on it, believe me. But I-”

The phone rang.

Hmm, Nick had given instructions not to be interrupted.

He picked it up.

“Nick, is that you? Jesus, you’re hard to find.”

“Sorry, Jim. I’m really in the middle-”

“I’ve got something for you on this guy Zarzi.”

SATURDAY MORNING

The Administration is to be congratulated on its heroic decision to continue business as usual with the Freedom Medal presentation to Afghan presidential candidate Ibrahim Zarzi. The violence that occurred yesterday in Washington when four police officers were killed and many more wounded by two as yet unidentified gunmen with a modern arsenal of assault-type weapons has not been allowed to stand in the way. This Administration’s desire to bring peace, and with it American withdrawal, to a region much troubled by war, remains firm.

Though details are as yet unknown, the gunmen’s modus operandi clearly suggests they were either far-right domestic terrorists or violent Zionists, possibly a combination of both. Extremists have more in common with each other than with the responsible middle-of-the-road adherents to their causes.

Mr. Zarzi himself must be singled out for courage and dedication. His selfless commitment to peace, his campaign to restore righteousness to a reputation much besmirched by political opponents who attempted to hang the nickname “the Beheader” on him, and his willingness to be a symbol of a peaceful, cooperative Islam are to be admired. The Administration is lucky to have him, he is lucky to have the Administration, and we are lucky to have both.

SUITE 500

M STREET NW

WASHINGTON, DC

1800 HOURS

The suit-bespoke from Jay Kos, New York, dark gray lightweight Italian silk-fit superbly but with a muted elegance, too light for a funeral, too dark for a nightclub, perfect. Cuff links, gold, by Tiffany, thank you very much.

Glory to you, oh Allah, and yours is the praise.

The socks: Egyptian cotton, black, John Weitz. The shoes, again bespoke, from GJ Cleverley, Jermyn Street, London SW1. The tie, red, with small, subtle checks of gold, by Anderson & Sheppard, also Jermyn Street, London SW1. The shirt, bespoke of course, blindingly white, the white of movie star teeth, Anderson & Sheppard, Jermyn Street, London SW1.

In the name of God, the Infinitely Compassionate and Merciful, praise be to God, lord of all the worlds, the Compassionate, the Merciful, Ruler on the Day of Reckoning.

Cologne: Chanel. Mousse: Revlon cosmetics. Fingernail polish (clear): Revlon cosmetics. Underwear: 100 percent silk, Anderson & Sheppard, Jermyn Street, London SW1.

You alone do we worship, and you alone do we ask for help. Guide us on the straight path, the path of those who have received your grace, not the path of those who have brought down wrath, nor of those who wander astray.

Jewelry: gold diamond ring, Cartier; gold necklace with Islamic talisman in 24-carat gold, Jacques du Ritz; watch… watch? Watch?

I seek refuge in Allah from Satan, the Accursed. God is great.

The watch: black plastic, Casio DW5600E-1V G-Shock classic digital, Walmart, $37.95.

“Sir, the limousine to the White House has arrived.”

FBI INTERROGATION SUITE 101

HOOVER BUILDING

PENNSYLVANIA AVENUE

WASHINGTON, DC

1900 HOURS

Okay, Jim, just a second.” He covered the mouthpiece. “Jim Stanford is head of counterespionage, DC. His people monitor, follow, infiltrate, tap, whatever, various ‘diplomatic’ initiatives here in the capitol.” He went back to the phone. “Jim, I’m with my staff now trying to figure out what’s going on with this guy. Can I put you on speaker?”

“Sure, sure,” said Jim and waited while Nick tried to figure out the phone, couldn’t, and a young agent came over and pushed the necessary buttons.