David Baldacci - The Whole Truth

“One man dead, two others arrested,” Creel said, repeating back Caesar’s report. “I’m assuming the men you hired know nothing useful?”

“Nothing,” Caesar said firmly. “I know this is a setback, but we’ll get them, Mr. Creel, I guarantee it. We’re close. Really close.”

“That’s what I thought a while back, Caesar. And look at us now.”

He clicked off, took a deep breath, looked out the porthole in the direction of where the new orphanage would spring up, and phoned Pender. “Pour it on, Dick,” he ordered. “I want to see the media stream full of vitriolic ammo to support the war.”

“Without actually having a war,” Pender said warily.

“A cold war,” Creel said impatiently. “I make the most money when shots aren’t fired.”

“But shots have been fired.”

“A stupid meaningless probe that, according to my sources, scared the hell out of both sides. Now we can settle down for a nice long rearmament phase.”

“But what if they actually go to war?”

“Dick, just do your job and let me worry about the consequences, remember? And if they do go to war, well, it won’t be the end of the world. They’ll have to have weapons to fight with and what they use up they have to replace. And if they beat the crap out of each other, who cares?”

“But what about the nukes? They have nukes.”

“Mutually assured destruction. Neither Moscow nor Beijing wants to disappear. That’s why I could never do this with the Muslims. They don’t seem to care if they get annihilated so long as everyone else does too. You see, even in war you need a civilized attitude to make it really work. Now pour it on!”

Creel clicked off and Pender immediately instructed his team to pull out all the stops. The mission had been a challenge for Pender, but then Creel always was a challenge. Pender opened up his official playbook and turned his horses loose. He would show Creel very clearly what pouring it on meant. There wouldn’t be a news outlet in the world that didn’t get his attention. The globe would ring with more lies than ever before in history. It would be the master PM’s finest hour.

Now that they were nearing a successful end, Pender contemplated how large the bonus to his firm – to him actually – would be. Creel did not deal in small numbers. Fifty million? A hundred million? Pender had always wanted two possessions more than anything else: his own yacht and his own aircraft. Not in the same class as Creel’s, of course. That would always be beyond his purse strings. Yet a Gulfstream V jet and a trim 120-foot Italian-built double-decker vessel would be perfect. These days those two items were what one really needed to say they had actually made it to the big time. And Pender wanted to say that with gusto.

He daydreamed about this possibility for a few more minutes until his dreams collapsed into a nightmare.

On his computer screen popped up a message from Pender’s aide. It read, “Barney Rubble Blog update.” An e-mail had come in on the blogger site that according to the aide, Pender needed to see right away.

Pender opened it and began to read even as he multitasked on some other agenda items. As soon as he read the first sentence, he stopped multitasking.

“I know who you are and what you did. I want a face-to-face or I’ll retract the story and write the real truth. K.J. P.S. Nice try with Lesnik. And next time you set up a fake blogger site, use someone who knows what they’re actually doing.”

Instantly gone were all thoughts of a jet and a yacht. His playbook didn’t have a counterattack to this.

The master perception manager had just realized his greatest fear.

The truth was literally staring him in the face.

SHAW SAT WATCHING the computer screen over Katie’s shoulder. She’d sent the e-mail ten minutes ago. They’d hoped for an answer before now.

“Should I send it again?” Katie asked him.

“No.” Though he looked a bit nervous too.

Fortunately, they didn’t have to wait much longer.

The message was short. “What do you want?”

Katie and Shaw exchanged glances. “Answer it,” Shaw said.

A face-to-face , Katie typed.

“Impossible,” the answer said.

Then I’ll just write my new story.

“No one will believe you,” came the reply.

I can be very persuasive. And I have some facts that will back me up and blow your plan out of the water.

“What facts?”

I’ll tell you in person.

“I’m not doing that. This could be a setup.”

Shaw and Katie glanced at each other. Of course it was a setup.

A phone call, then.

The answer didn’t come immediately. “What do you want to talk about?”

Money , Katie typed, adding no fewer than three exclamation points. Money for my silence.

“We can do that over e-mail.”

I want to hear you sweat. Katie smiled at this intentionally mixed metaphor.

A long minute went by as they anxiously stared at the screen. “When?”

Katie clapped her hands together. Tonight. Midnight U.S. East Coast time . She typed in a cell phone number that was untraceable. Shaw had given it to her.

“He’ll suspect that we’ll try to trace the call when he’s on the phone,” she said.

“He’ll use a sterilized cell phone, believing that even if we trace the signal and burn a target between the cell towers, it’s still a big place.”

“Well, isn’t it?” Katie said.

“The world isn’t nearly as large as people think it is. In fact, it’s pretty small. If we can track his signal, that’ll give us about a city-block footprint to target. Once we get that, Frank can send in people fast. With his connections, he has assets pretty much everywhere that he can call on.”

“That’s still a big space to search, Shaw.”

“It is, but it’s better than nothing. And we might just get lucky.”

Pender sat back in his office after having finished his digital conversation with Katie James. That’s who it had to be of course, the damn reporter.

The initials at the end of the e-mail, K and J. The threat to retract her story.

He should have immediately phoned Nicolas Creel, but he couldn’t. He’d obviously blundered on setting up the sham blogger site, because the damn woman had seen right through it. He could not let Creel know about that. He had never personally seen what Creel had done to underlings who’d failed him, but he’d heard enough rumors. He would handle this himself. It was only a phone call and he would take all necessary precautions against it being traced. There was no way they would be able to find him.

If it was merely money she wanted, that was doable. James would no doubt be reasonable in her request. If it took millions, he’d just take it out of his bonus. It wasn’t like he needed both the yacht and the private plane. But what if she kept coming back for more money?

Pender took a deep breath as his nerves began to bunch up and down his spine. This had never happened to him before. He was only used to being behind the scenes, never in the trenches. But he would get through this. He was the master of this game. In the end he would win.

And best of all, Nicolas Creel would never have to know.

He prayed to God that the man would never find out.

NEXT TO THE TABLE where Katie would be sitting when she made the call, Shaw had set up a large clock with an LED readout down to the seconds. He held a video camera pointed at Katie and the clock; he also had on a headset.

“Just keep him on as long as you can. Once they track the tower locations they can zero in on a more exact location and send in a team.”