Vince Flynn - Act of Treason

“I have read the article.”

“And?” Billings asked.

She studied the two men on her right, and saw two worried civil servants who had devoted their entire adult lives to what they thought was an honorable and worthy cause. They did not want to see their Agency embroiled in another scandal.

“It’s interesting.”

“Interesting,” Billings repeated. He did not attempt to hide his disbelief. “You’re about to be burned at the stake, andinteresting is all you have to say.”

The right corner of Kennedy’s mouth turned upwards showing the slightest hint of a smile. “I don’t think anyone is going to be burned at the stake over this.”

“Four senators have already called me this morning,” Billings said.

“And I’ve talked to two,” added Workman.

Kennedy looked to Juarez.

“I stopped counting.”

“And what have you told them?” Kennedy asked all three. None of them decided to answer. Kennedy turned her gaze on Workman who was usually the most vocal. “Chuck, what did you tell them?”

He fidgeted in his chair and said, “I told them the truth.”

“The truth, I’ve found, can be very subjective around here.”

“Not on this one, Irene.”

“Then let’s hear it. Tell me what I need to know.”

“I know you and Mitch are close, but I’ve been warning you for I don’t know how long that sooner or later he’s going to get us all into a lot of hot water.”

Juarez leaned back in his chair and scowled at his counterpart from the intel side of the business. “I’m sure you’ll find some way to save your own ass, Chuck.”

“Don’t defend him, Jose. Do you know how many times I’ve sat here and heard you complain about him?”

“There’s a big difference between keeping our disagreements within the family and shooting your mouth off to some reporter.”

“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You run the intel side, Chuck. You don’t need some knuckle dragger like me to explain things to you.”

“Are you implying that I spoke with this reporter from theTimes?”

Jose grabbed his copy of theTimes and read, “According to an anonymous senior CIA official, Mitch Rapp’s methods and lack of control have been a growing concern for some time.” Juarez slammed the paper on the table and said, “It sounds like you wrote it yourself.”

Workman’s pale complexion turned bright red and he snapped, “How dare you accuse me of having anything to do with this.”

Kennedy watched with a critical eye as Juarez and Workman bandied back and forth. She had also wondered who the senior CIA official might be. She was about to intercede and end the argument when her office door opened unexpectedly. Juarez and Workman continued shouting across the table, completely oblivious that an interloper had just entered the Agency’s inner sanctum. Kennedy’s face revealed nothing, but inside she was fuming that this man had yet again barged in on her office without so much as a phone call or a knock.

Vice President-elect Ross strode across the room and stopped at the far end of the conference table. He was in a charcoal gray wool suit with a white shirt and a silver-and-blue tie. In his manicured right hand he held a copy of theTimes. He threw it down on the conference table, unbuttoned his suit coat, and placed a hand on each hip.

“I have great appreciation for how difficult this business is, but this can’t continue. I’m trying to save your jobs right now.” Ross pointed to each of the four. “I’ve explained to Josh that we have a good team at Langley. I don’t agree with everything you do, but I’ve told him you are competent people. Now, this morning I wake up to this, and I’ve got the next president of the United States asking me if I’ve lost my mind.”

Ross paused. He looked at Kennedy. There she sat at the head of the table with her damn unreadable expression. “I explained to him that this is a business where batting a thousand is not possible. Even if these accusations are true, they need to be tempered against Rapp’s past successes. His response was that if even half of what was printed in the article is true he wants me to come out here and clean house.” Ross waved his hand above them as if in one fell swoop they could all be dispatched. He leaned over and stabbed his index finger on top of the newspaper. “You know what really boils my blood about this article? This quote in here from a senior CIA official. You people think this is Hollywood, where you settle your disputes by calling up a reporter and stabbing one of your colleagues in the back?”

No one answered. In fact Kennedy was the only one who looked at him.

Ross’s fiery eyes settled on her. “I’m under direct orders from President-Elect Alexander to get to the bottom of this and put it behind us as quickly as possible. Please tell me this reporter has got it all wrong. That there is a simple explanation for why Mitch Rapp shot this man four times.”

Kennedy’s antennae were up. There was spying, there was subterfuge, and then there was espionage. Real old-fashioned espionage where it wasn’t enough to simply steal the enemies’ secrets, one had to launch double, triple, and quadruple feints and get them to turn on themselves. Misdirection layered upon misdirection until the enemy couldn’t trust their best friend. During the Cold War the Russians had been masterful at sowing distrust among CIA officers. They even went so far as to send real intelligence assets over as defectors. These men and women were so good they were impossible to tell from the real defectors. The damage they did was incalculable.

Kennedy couldn’t help getting the feeling that Ross was up to something. The man did not like her. He did not care for the greater good of the Agency. He cared for himself first and last. Kennedy had guessed some time ago that he was a borderline obsessive compulsive with narcissistic tendencies. In everyday parlance that meant he was a backstabbing control freak. Just simply winning for these types wasn’t enough. It was boring. They needed the thrill, the drama of the fight. Winning through subterfuge was nirvana. It helped validate the narcissistic ego. It proved that they were smarter than everyone else.

Kennedy could have easily taken the memory stick from her safe and showed Ross the mountain of evidence that they had against the man Rapp had arrested, but she decided to keep it from him. There was still too much to learn, and her instincts told her Ross could not be trusted.

“Sir,” Kennedy said, “the entire matter is under investigation, and I think it would be a disservice to comment on it before all the facts are in.”

“That sounds like damn lawyer speak,” Ross snarled.

Kennedy remained calm. “If you had called, sir, and informed me that you were coming, I might have been able to put together a preliminary report, but I’m not sure what you expect out of me on such short notice?”

Ross’s nostrils flared in anger. He hesitated for a split second before answering and then said, “I expect you to do your job, and I expect you to follow the law. Get this mess sorted out and do it fast, or you’re all going to be looking for new jobs. And that comes straight from Alexander himself.” Ross turned and marched out of the office.

Kennedy had studied his every move. The man could have been a stage actor. The way he turned his emotions on and off at a moment’s notice. She’d made the calculated decision to push his button and find out if he would drop the savior act and he had. He had displayed genuine anger that she had dared to defy him.

Kennedy pushed her chair away from the table and stood. “That’s all for this morning.”

“We’re done?” a surprised Billings asked.