Vince Flynn: American Assassin

Kennedy sheepishly shrugged her shoulders and said, “I didn’t know he had them.”

“That’s a pretty big thing to miss.” Lewis glanced up at her. “I’m not judging.”

“I’m not proud that I missed it, but in the end isn’t it a good thing?”

“Maybe… maybe not.”

Kennedy explained what she knew about Rapp, which admittedly wasn’t a great deal, but she pointed out yet again that a blank slate was not necessarily a bad thing. That they could mold him into the man they needed. She finished her verbal report as Hurley made it back up from the basement. Lewis asked her to prepare a small salad while he went to work boiling noodles and slicing up the chicken and preparing a creamy white sauce. Hurley was left to open the red wine.

While Lewis put the finishing touches on the main dish, Hurley and Kennedy started up again. They volleyed back and forth, each one putting forth his or her version of what had happened and how the other one had screwed up. Like any good shrink, Lewis was a good listener, and he played his part. It helped that these two were rarely boring. Hurley was a once-in-a-lifetime patient, the kind of man who was so outrageously entertaining that you sometimes felt you should pay him rather than the other way around. Sure, there was a flourish of exaggeration here and there, but Lewis had witnessed several of his exploits firsthand and knew the stories to be for the most part accurate.

Kennedy was very different. There was no cussing, or anger, or animated hand gestures accompanied by thespianlike facial contortions. There was just a calm, analytical, intellectual way about her that put you at ease. Her answers were never rushed and almost always thoughtful. She did not participate in personal verbal attacks or attempt to sway opinion by exaggeration. Wildly different, in almost every way, they did share a few qualities that served to exacerbate the situation. Both were deeply suspicious of everyone they encountered and did not find it easy to admit they were wrong. On top of that, their long history and familiarity served to bring both the best and worst qualities to the surface in a very raw way. Lewis would never admit this to them, but it had become one of his great clinical joys watching these two argue: It was verbal combat at an Olympian level.

The table was set, the wine poured, and the food dished up. Kennedy picked at her salad while Hurley and Lewis devoured both the salad and the chicken and tomato fettuccine. Lewis ate in near silence while he watched the two joust. He interrupted on three occasions, but only for clarification. When he’d cleaned his plate and poured himself a second glass of wine, he pushed his chair back and was ready to give them his take on the matter. One of the things they had decided at the formation of the group was that they wanted Lewis to have full operational input. Hurley was in charge, but there was some apprehension in Washington over his cowboy attitude. Hurley, to his credit, understood that he had certain weaknesses. Rather than cop an attitude about Lewis’s role expanding beyond weeding out the whackjobs, Hurley had told him, “I don’t want any bullshit, PC, shrink stuff. You’re paid to voice your opinions. Not give me an endless stream of what ifs.”

With that in mind Lewis put his glass down and said, “Two mistakes were made and you both know what they were.”

Kennedy nodded, while Hurley said, “I can think of one. Her not doing her due diligence. What’s the second one?”

“You can’t think of a single thing you did wrong today?” Lewis asked.

“I’m not perfect, but this one’s not my fault.” Hurley pointed at Kennedy. “I am busier than shit trying to see which one of these boys has the right stuff. I’m not responsible for the turds she dumps in my lap.”

Lewis was suddenly resigned to the fact that he would have to box Hurley in a little tighter. Clearing his throat, he said, “We’re left with two options. Either this kid is really good or you’re losing a step.” Lewis took a drink and asked, “Which one is it?”

Hurley’s jaw tightened. “I haven’t lost a step!” In a slightly embarrassed voice he added, “I just underestimated him, that’s all.”

“And that’s what worries me the most,” Lewis said in an accusatory tone.

“Don’t worry… I won’t let it happen again.”

“I’m afraid that’s not good enough.”

Hurley lit a cigarette and casually said, “Let’s not make this into something bigger than it needs to be.”

“Bullshit!” Lewis said with genuine fury.

“Come on…” Hurley said trying to shrug the whole thing off.

“Don’t ‘come on’ me-you fucked up today, and you fucked up big-time.”

Kennedy leaned back, her eyes wide, unable to hide her surprise at Lewis’s strong condemnation.

“Let’s not overreact,” Hurley said easily, trying to take some of the heat out of the conversation.

“Overreact.” Lewis leaned forward. “I’m not sure it would be possible to overreact to this situation, and what is really bothering me is that you know it, but you’re too pigheaded to admit it.”

“It’s not the end of the world.”

Lewis’s indignation was growing with each denial. “You’re supposed to be infallible. These guys are supposed to fear you, loathe you, hate your fucking guts, but the one thing they are never supposed to do is lay a shiner on you.” Lewis pointed at Hurley’s swollen eye. “And they definitely aren’t supposed to beat you… especially not five minutes after they’ve walked through the gate.”

“He didn’t beat me,” Hurley growled.

“Well… that’s debatable. From what I’ve heard he had you beat and the only way you got out of it was by cheating.”

“Yeah… well, life’s not fair.”

“At this stage, Stan, these guys are like young pups. You know that. When we lay down the rules we can’t break them. It sends the wrong signal.”

Hurley leaned back and stubbornly folded his arms across his chest. “I was suckered into this thing.”

“I’m not sure you were, but for a moment, I’ll go along with you.” Lewis paused briefly and then said, “You’re not supposed to get suckered. You’re supposed to run these dogs until they’re so tired they can barely stand. You’re supposed to watch them go after each other… get a sense of what they’re capable of, and then you’re supposed bring them into that barn and smack them down, just like when you and I went through boot camp. This is delicate work, God dammit, and you know it. There’s a reason why we do things the way we do them, and your ego has no place in the decision process.”

“My ego has nothing to do with this,” Hurley shot back with a sour look on his face. “I just let my guard down. That’s all.”

“No,” Lewis shook his head, “I’m inclined to agree with Irene on this one. You still see her as a little girl, and you don’t give her the credit she deserves. She shows up with this new recruit and because he doesn’t fit into your little box of where these recruits are supposed to come from, you decided to skip steps one, two, and three, kick his ass, and send him packing.” Lewis sat back, took a drink of wine, and then in a calmer voice asked, “Does it mean anything to you that Thomas signed off on this?” Lewis was referring to the deputy director of operations.

Embarrassed, Hurley said, “I didn’t think of that.”

“Do you understand the situation you’ve created?”

Hurley didn’t react at first and then very slowly he began to nod.

Kennedy was feeling better about her position, but she wasn’t entirely sure what they were talking about and asked Lewis, “What do you mean by situation?”

“These things have a way of spinning out of control,” Lewis said. “One recruit has some success putting a shiner on an instructor and all of the sudden the rest of them think that maybe they can take a shot. That these guys are human. Throw in the fact that Stan here had to cheat to avoid losing, and we now have a potentially dangerous situation.”