Vince Flynn - The Third Option

«Listen.» Clark sighed as if he wanted nothing to do with any of this. «My position has always been clear on this issue. I think the CIA is a very important part of this nation's national security. My friend and I disagree on this.» Clark gestured to Rudin. «The last thing I want to see is the CIA weakened by hearings.» Clark looked Midleton in the eye and prepared to address his real concern. «I like President Hayes. He's a good man. I mean no harm to his administration, and I think you know that, Charles. You and I sat across the aisle from each other for years. Have you ever known me to put party politics before national security?»

Midleton shook his head. «No. You were always very honorable, Hank.»

«Thank you. And so were you, Charles.» Clark took a drink of scotch and shifted gears. «I don't think we can go back and change the past, gentlemen. We need to look to the future. Director Stansfield is dying. I've heard he has about six months left.» The men nodded. «Our job, as I see it, is to help the president pick someone who can bring the Agency into the twenty-first century. Someone who will be respectful of the concerns of the Congress.» As Clark looked at the other men. he couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment that he had almost perfectly maneuvered all of the pieces of the puzzle into place. Just as he was about to put one more very important piece into play, the phone next to him buzzed and stopped him short.

Clark snatched the phone from its cradle. «Hello.»

«Sir, I need to speak with you immediately.»

It was Peter Cameron. Clark remained calm, even though the man's timing couldn't have been worse. «I'm in the middle of something.»

«This is really important. I'm in the briefing room across the hall from you.»

Clark thought about it for a second. Cameron sounded very serious. «Give me a minute. I'll be right over.»

Cameron scratched his beard and tried to figure out what to do. He was standing in the parking ramp at George Washington University. After hanging up on Rapp, Cameron was forced to make a practical decision: use his own car, or find other transportation. As he huddled behind a concrete pillar in the ramp, he went over the phone conversation, trying to figure out how Rapp had found him. Something occurred to him. Rapp had never used his real name. He only called him Professor. Cameron put himself in Rapp's shoes. If he were the one doing the confronting, he would use the person's real name, not an alias. Hell, he wouldn't even call them, he'd show up on the person's doorstep with a little muscle and beat the truth out of them.

Cameron had decided it was Villaume. That slimy little frog had gotten hold of Rapp and given him the phone number. That was the only thing that made sense; otherwise, Rapp would be all over him. Cameron checked the under- side of his car for tracking devices and left the ramp. He took his time driving to the Hill. The normal ten-minute drive took forty-five as Cameron zigzagged his way across the city. When he finally pulled into the underground garage of the Hart Senate Office Building, he was pretty confident that he had not been followed.

Senator Clark entered the small room and shut the airtight, soundproof door. He was in a light blue shirt with a white collar and an expensive gold silk tie. He had left his suit coat across the hall in the larger conference room. He was far from enthused about the interruption, but he didn't show it.

Clark remained standing. «What's wrong, Peter?»

«Nothing we can't handle,» answered Cameron with reserved confidence.

The senator eyed him cautiously; «Elaborate, please.»

«I received a phone call this afternoon from Mitch Rapp.»

Clark 's eyes opened wider. «Really?»

«Yes, but I don't want you to be too alarmed. He doesn't know my real name.»

Clark wasn't sure if he believed Cameron. «How did he find you?»

Cameron held up his mobile phone. «He called me on this.»

«How did he get the number?»

«Villaume gave it to him.» Cameron neglected to tell Clark that this was an educated guess.

The senator took a deep breath and glanced over at the blank wall. «I thought you said Villaume wasn't going to be a problem now that his large friend is gone.»

«I don't think he will be.» Cameron lied, again neglecting to mention the conversation he'd had with Villaume earlier in the day.

«Well, I think him giving Rapp your number would fall into the creating problems category.»

«It's not what you think.» Cameron held the phone up again. «There is no way they can use this to find me. It was purchased under a false name and was paid for with a credit card that can't be traced to me. Villaume doesn't know my real name; he knows nothing about me.»

Clark strained to keep his demeanor calm. None of this was good news. «You don't feel the slightest bit threatened by Rapp?»

«No.» Cameron lied. «I can handle him.»

«I'm not so sure.» The senator looked away and said, «Maybe I should bring in someone else to take care of things?»

«No. I can handle it.»

«You're sure?» The senator studied him.

«Yes.»

«How are things proceeding with the girl?»

«We have all of the information you requested.»

«All right.» Clark sat at the small table, and Cameron did the same. «Grab the girl, and be very discreet about it. Has Rapp shown up at his house yet?»

«No, and I don't think he will until this thing blows over.»

Clark sat in silence for a while, concentrating on how to proceed. After several minutes, he began to tell Cameron what to do. His attention to detail was amazing. So much so that Cameron felt the need to take notes, but he knew better than to ask. After ten minutes of Clark talking and Cameron listening, the meeting was over. Clark had sent his minion on his way with very specific orders on how to proceed.

Clark stayed in the small room by himself for several minutes, taking the time to gather his wits before he went back into the other meeting. As he sat there, he thought of one thing he'd forgotten. This would be the end of his relationship with Cameron. Whether the man succeeded in taking care of Rapp or not, he had become too big a liability. He had received confirmation that a man called the Colonel had accepted the contract on Cameron and was on his way to Washington. When Clark got home, he would have to put the Colonel in a holding pattern until this business with the reporter was taken care of. He absolutely could not allow Rapp to get his hands on Cameron.

ANNA RIELLY WAS tired. She'd just finished giving her last nightly news update and was packing up to head home. The rain had finally stopped. She did her first two stories standing under an umbrella on the north grounds of the White House. The dreary weather was affecting people's moods, including hers. It had been a long week, and it was only Wednesday. All she wanted to do was go home, curl up in her own bed, and go to sleep. It would be nice if Mitch was there, but she doubted she would be that lucky.

She had told Liz all about her conversation with Mitch. She had yet to tell Liz who Mitch worked for or what he did, and Liz had been a good enough friend not to force the issue. Although Liz O'Rourke seemed to be relieved by the news that Mitch had contacted Anna, the same couldn't really be said for Liz's husband. Michael was not happy about the events of the last week, and Anna was still worried that he might use his contacts to start digging around.

As Rjelly walked toward the northwest gate, she made the decision that she would stay at her apartment tonight. She had imposed enough on the O'Rourkes. They didn’t need this kind of stress in their lives, especially with the baby on the way: Mitch had called and said everything fine. If he wasn't worried, then she could relax a little.