Vince Flynn - The Third Option

Rapp looked at the list. «What about calls he has made?»

«There aren't any. He's smart. He knows someone could do exactly what I'm doing right now. The trail ends here.»

«Shit.»

«Don't distress just yet. I do have one piece of information that might be useful.» Dumond scrolled back up to the map of the city. «Almost half of the calls he has received have been handled by this one tower right here.» Dumond pointed to a spot four blocks west of the White House. «After this tower there's another one in Georgetown that pops up a lot, and then one more on the Hill. Other than that, the rest appear to be random.»

Rapp knelt down and looked at the screen. «Can you sort these calls by the time of day they were received?»

«I'm already on it for you. I'm going back to the start of the service and plotting them by tower, day of the week, and time.»

«How long until you have something you can show me?»

«An hour or two, and I should have it pretty well nailed.»

«Good work, Marcus.» Rapp looked over his shoulder at Coleman and pointed at the screen. «Look at what's just two blocks away from this tower.»

Coleman squinted. «George Washington University.»

«No.» Rapp moved his finger a couple of inches down. «The State Department.» He tapped the spot with his index finger and said, «I'll bet my left nut this guy works for State.»

Frowning, Coleman looked at the screen. «Why State? He could just as easily work at the White House or… «

Coleman looked at some of the other buildings. «The World Bank or maybe the Federal Reserve. Hell, the United Nations has even got an office there.»

«It's State. I know it is. Remember what Irene told us about Secretary Midleton calling her Saturday morning to find out if the Agency had anything to do with Hagenmiller's death?»

Coleman thought about what Kennedy had said. It was true that Midleton had seemed to be in on the action a little too quickly. Coleman felt his chest tighten just a notch. If this thing was connected to the State Department, things could get really ugly. «I think you might have something, but we need to talk to Irene about it immediately.» As an afterthought, Coleman added, «And I don't think we should do it over the phone.»

SENATOR CLARK HAD all of the players gathered They were in one of the Senate Intelligence Committee's soundproof briefing rooms on the second floor of the Hart Building. Clark sat at the head of the long black table with a glass of scotch in his hand. It was a few minutes before five in the evening. He usually waited until after five to pour his first drink, but tonight he had made an exception. He was trying to get the others to relax, especially Congressman Rudin. He was sitting to Clark 's left, looking as ornery as ever. Midleton was next to Rudin, and across from them, on the other side of the table, was their guest of honor – Jonathan Brown, the deputy director of the Central Intelligence Agency.

Congressman Rudin had demanded that something be done. Kennedy's baldfaced lies to his committee could not go unpunished. Clark, always willing to play the role of problem solver, suggested they hold a very discreet meeting. Rudin liked the idea. In his current state of rage, anything other than doing nothing sounded good. Clark had personally made the phone calls. He first called DDCI Brown and asked if he could come to the Hill on an informal visit. Informal was code for off the record. Brown. always willing to keep the chairman of the Senate Intelligence Committee happy, readily agreed to the meeting. He had arrived in an unmarked car and entered the building through the underground parking garage. Secretary of State Midleton had done the same. It wouldn’t do to have him parading across town in his armor-plated limousine, so he came in a government sedan with blacked-out windows.

Senator Clark leaned back in his chair and crossed his long legs. Looking at the number two Clark said, «Jonathan, my colleague from the House is a little concerned over who is running the show at your place.»

«I'm more than a little concerned,» snapped Rudin. «I'm fucking irate. I'm so irate, I'm holding hearings.»

Clark reached out and placed a hand on Rudin’s forearm. Not yet, my friend, he thought to himself. I’ll let you know when it’s time for that. Clark patted Rudin’s arm. «Let’s try and stay civil. I don't think Jonathan is the problem.»

«Well, I'll tell you who the problem is. It’s that bitch Irene Kennedy.»

Secretary of State Midleton frowned. «I don’t think that kind of language is necessary.»

Rudin, never one to be concerned with decorum, scoffed at the secretary's concern. «Get off your high horse, Charles. This is no time to worry about etiquette. This is serious shit. I think the CIA killed count Hagenmiller, and I think that bitch Irene Kennedy came before my committee this morning and lied about it.»

Jonathan Brown's face was as white as a sheet, and Midleton was busy pursing his lips and shaking his head in disgust. Clark sat back and enjoyed. It was Brown who spoke first. His voice was a little shaky.

«I can assure you that the CIA has taken no such action.»

«Oh, can you?» Rudin's voice was filled with doubt «You're not going to like this, Mr. Brown, but I don't think you have the faintest idea what Thomas Stansfidd does and doesn't do. He runs that agency like a dictatorship.»

Brown was on the defensive. «I have found Director Stansfield to be honest and fair.»

«That's because you haven't bothered to dig too deep.»

«Listen,» Brown stuck his hands out in an attempt to slow Rudin down. «If you have evidence of such illegal action by either Director Stansfield or Dr. Kennedy, bring it to me, and I will make sure explanations are given.»

«Bring it to you! Do you think I'm an idiot? If l had any evidence, I'd haul their asses before my committee, and I'd sic the Justice Department on them.»

Clark could tell Brown was about to snap. As a former federal judge, he was not used to being addressed in such a manner. Clark grabbed Rudin's arm again and said, «Take it easy, Albert.»

«Yes, please do,» added Midleton. «Your behavior is embarrassing.»

«Oh, don't give me that horse shit, Charles.» Rudin wheeled around and faced the secretary of state. «You wipe your ass just like the rest of us. Just because you're not on the Hill anymore doesn't mean you're any better than the rest of us.»

Rudin had overstepped his bounds. Midleton hadn't become secretary of state by letting people run him over. He spun his chair around and faced Rudin. «I have always been better than you, you emotional little hack, and I always will be better than you. Now, I suggest you keep your tongue in check, or I will have a little meeting with the party leadership and demand that you be stripped of your pathetic little committee.»

This was almost too good to be true, Clark thought. If only his colleagues could see it. It was time to settle things down, though, and get back to the plan. Clark grabbed Rudin's shoulder with one beefy hand and pulled him away from Midleton before he could do any more damage. «Albert, calm down and shut your mouth for a minute.» Rudin tried to speak, but Clark stopped him. «This is coming from one of your best friends. Just shut your mouth. I understand why you're upset. So does Charles, and I think Jonathan does, too, but you're not doing anybody any good by taking this out on the wrong people.»

Again, Rudin tried to speak, but Clark held up a finger and silenced him.

«If you are right about Kennedy and Stansfield, and I'm not so sure you are, then we need to work with Jonathan to try and get to the bottom of this. We don't need to beat him up over something he had no control over.»

«If I may,» Midleton interjected. «I see some potential conflicts over separation of powers.»