Brad Thor - Blowback

Hurrying back to the table and positioning his body so that Alcott would be less visible from the front of the pub, Harvath asked, “How’d you pay for your meal in the café? Cash? Check? Credit card? What was it?”

“I paid cash,” responded Jillian. “What’s this all about?”

“Good. That means they won’t have your name, at least not right away.”

“Who won’t have my name?”

“The police. They’ve just released images from the store’s security cameras. Apparently, they can’t decide whether I kidnapped you or if you were my willing accomplice.”

“Accomplice to what?”

“To the shooting. Three people back at the store are dead. One of them was an off-duty policeman.”

Jillian didn’t know what to say. “Did you shoot him?”

“Of course not.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because,” replied Harvath, “I know who I was aiming at.”

“Khalid Alomari.”

“Exactly.”

“This is too much,” replied Jillian. “We have to go to the police. Now.”

“I already told you. I can’t go to the police, and neither can you. There’s no time.”

“If Alomari was in that store, then they’ll have footage of him too.”

“He’s a professional. If they do, they won’t have much.”

“But it’s something, a start. They could help us look for him.”

“At this point, Khalid Alomari is one of the last things I’m concerned about. I need to get to the bottom of how this illness works and how and where al-Qaeda intends to use it. I can’t do that, though, without your help. I need to know more about what Emir was involved with.”

Jillian knew she had to do something. She might be Emir’s only hope. Finally, she said, “I’m not the one you need to talk to.”

“Of course you are. You’re the person Emir was speaking with outside the institute.”

“I’m not exactly the only one.”

Harvath looked at her. “If there’s anyone else you think he might have spoken to, you need to tell me. They could be in a lot of danger right now as well.”

“I doubt it,” said Jillian. “There’s no trail connecting them. Emir didn’t even know I was talking to anyone else about his work.”

“You? Who were you talking with?”

Jillian paused for a moment. “Two people who know a lot more about this stuff than I do.”

“Other paleopathologists?”

“They were professors of mine at university,” she replied. “Vanessa and Alan Whitcomb.”

“Where can I find them?” asked Harvath.

“About five hours north of here in Durham. Do you have a car?”

Harvath shook his head.

“Then it looks like we may be sticking together for a little while longer.”

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, DC

SAME DAY

You want me to what?” said Senator Carmichael as she accepted the crystal highball glass from Charles Anderson and set it on the table in front of her.

“Come on, Helen,” replied the president’s chief of staff. “You didn’t think I asked you over here so we could have a nice bipartisan bourbon and chat about the future of American democracy.”

“No, but I was expecting a little cordiality.”

“Well, you picked a bad week,” said Anderson as he sat down on the couch across from her. “We’re all out of cordiality.”

“You know what, Chuck? You’ve changed.”

“No, Helen, you have. You’re so obsessed with clinching the vice presidency that you’ll do anything to make it happen.”

“As any member of my party would,” countered Carmichael.

Anderson took a sip of his bourbon and said, “No. We’re not talking about party politics here, Helen, and you know it. We’re talking about you and your rabid desire to ultimately become president.”

“Me? What about you? Are you going to sit there and tell me that your boy’s desire is any less than mine?”

“First of all, we refer to him as the president of the United States in this office-”

“Don’t scold me, Chuck-”

“And secondly,” replied the chief of staff, plowing right ahead, “you damn well know the arm-twisting we’ve had to do to get him to run again.”

“If he doesn’t want to run,” said the senator as she lifted her drink, “then why is he?”

“Because the country needs him, and more importantly, it wants him.”

“This country doesn’t know what it wants.”

“Really? Look at any poll out there, Helen, and you’ll see it’s clear. America wants Jack Rutledge to stay for another term, and that’s what it’s going to get-four more years.”

“Not if the Democratic Party has got anything to say about it.”

Anderson leaned forward. “The Democratic Party already knows they’re beat. I had the chairman of the DNC in this office this morning, sitting right where you are, and he told me the very same thing.”

Carmichael was flabbergasted. “Russell Mercer never would have admitted that.”

“I’ll tell you, Helen, Russ is a smart guy. There are a lot of times I wish he were on our side. But with the president’s numbers the way they are, nothing short of a full-blown scandal in this administration is going to close the gap enough to give your party a shot at the Oval Office.”

“Well,” said the senator, a smug look on her face as she sat back and raised her bourbon to her lips, “you’d better mind the gap.”

“We’re minding it all right, but I want to tell you what else Russ Mercer said while he was here.”

“More nonsense, I’m sure, but go ahead. I’m all ears.”

“It’s no secret that the Democratic presidential nomination is going to go to Governor Bob Farnsworth of Minnesota. All things considered, I think it’s a pretty good choice. He’s got a good voting record, he’s a veteran, and to tell you the truth, in a nose-to-nose election race with him, I’d probably lose more than a little sleep at night, but this isn’t a nose-to-nose race.”

“What’s this have to do with what other drivel Mercer had to say?”

“They’re not going to put you on the ticket, Helen. Not this time.”

“What do you mean, they’re not going to put me on the ticket? How the hell would you know?”

“I know, because Russ told me so. You may be one of the party’s rising stars, but you don’t have the juice to make an election like this happen.”

“Well, I’m just going to have to-”

Anderson cut her off. “Russ also told me that you are on very shaky ground as far as the DNC is concerned. If you don’t watch your step, you might turn around and find that the party isn’t there for you anymore.”

He was playing her. He had to be. The self-righteous son of a bitch was trying to fluster her. Well, he had another think coming. She was a United States senator, and she did not fluster, not that easily. “I’m apparently going to have to have a chat with our beloved DNC chairman and get a few things straightened out with him,” said Carmichael.

“Helen, let’s cut the crap. You saw an opening, probably smelled what you thought was a little blood in the water, and took it upon yourself to get these hearings launched.”

“So what if I did?”

“If you did, and the hearings blow up in your face, nobody from your party is going to be there to help you pick your teeth up off the ground.”

“Chuck, let’s be clear here. Are you threatening me?”

“No. No threats, Senator. Just friendly advice.”

“From the incumbent Republican president’s chief of staff. You’ll pardon me if I take your advice with more than a grain of salt.”

“Take it with two grains if you like, but these hearings could end up ruining your political career.”