Vince Flynn - Act of Treason

“Yes. We’ll reconvene right here at one.”

All three men grabbed their stuff and got up to leave. Kennedy looked at Juarez bringing up the rear and said, “Jose, I’m leaving for the White House in twenty minutes. I want you to come with me.”

“Do I need to bring anything?”

“No.” Kennedy followed the men across the room and closed the door behind them. Once behind her desk, she picked up her secure phone and punched in a local number. Rapp answered on the second ring.

“Are you going to meet Rivera?”

“Yes.”

“Expand your search to Ross. See if she can get you the Secret Service logs from his detail, and ask Marcus if he thinks he can do a workup on him without raising too much suspicion.”

“I’ll take care of it. When is your press conference?”

“I’m leaving to see the president shortly. I’ll call you and let you know how it goes.” Kennedy put the handset back in the cradle and considered the enemy she was about to make. She had never trusted Ross completely, even during his brief tenure as director of National Intelligence, but she had never let on. Once she held the press conference with President Hayes, Ross would know she had withheld information from him and any pretext of a cordial working relationship would be gone. Kennedy looked out the large picture window at the brightening day. She felt a sense of relief that she had chosen her course.

Special Agent Rivera sat at her desk and flipped through the Yellow Pages. She foundKarate, and underneath it saidsee Martial Arts. She flipped through the pages to the M’s and found it. There were six full pages of listings in the DC area. She shook her head and began searching for one between the office and her apartment. When she’d arrived at the dojo this morning, she found the contents of her locker waiting for her in a brown grocery bag by the front door. Her sensei was in the middle of teaching a class, and he didn’t bother to come out and talk to her, or for that matter make eye contact. She was being thrown out after only five weeks, and she didn’t need to ask why.

Rivera stopped reading the listings and closed her eyes. What in the hell am I doing? she asked herself. She felt as if her whole life was falling apart around her. For three straight months she’d been in denial. She knew her career was over, but she was hanging on in hopes that they would give her a second chance. One of her bosses had actually told her yesterday that he was recommending grief counseling. The bastard, she thought.

She’d asked him if he thought she needed the counseling to deal with the loss of her fellow agents who had died in the attack or for her career which was now dead. He looked at her stone-faced and told her no one blamed her for what had gone wrong. He was probably right about that, but it didn’t change the fact that no one wanted her around. She was a living, breathing reminder of one of the Service’s worst days since Dallas in 1963. Another colleague told her to get out of Washington. Take an assignment in Miami or L.A. Work counterfeit and fraud. It was challenging and gratifying work, and if she didn’t want to do that, she could at least apply for the Joint Counterterrorism Center. Do anything just so long as it didn’t involve working Personal Protection.

Rivera closed the Yellow Pages and dropped the book on the floor. Why was she bothering looking for a new dojo? Her days in DC were numbered. Everyone knew it. She just needed to come to grips with it. Life was cruel, she decided. She’d been so close to the top. The one job that every agent covets. The SAC of a Presidential Detail. She was on track, and it would have been hers.

Tears welled and she fought them back. The hell if she was going to break down in front of them. That was what they were waiting for. They’d ship her off for another round of evaluation, and she wasn’t going to do that. She had more than a month of vacation and personal time banked. It was time to take it. Head out west again and hit the slopes. Maybe she’d stop by and see her family. They’d been worried about her when she’d gone home for Christmas, but after two days she couldn’t take the nagging and left early to go meet some friends in Tahoe. She’d hit the bumps hard for three straight days until her back hurt so bad she couldn’t take it anymore.

Rivera grabbed a tissue and wiped the corners of her eyes. She threw it in the garbage and decided she’d put in for vacation. She was about to send her boss an e-mail when her phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number on the screen but answered it nonetheless.

“Special Agent Rivera speaking.”

“Meet me on the street.”

“Who is this?”

“Your sparring partner. Get your ass downstairs. We need to talk.”

“Oh…it’s you. Nice article in theTimes. Sounds like you really made a mess of it.”

Rapp laughed. “You should know better than most not to believe what you read in the paper.”

Rivera looked over the top of her cube and said, “Based on my current situation, I’m not sure it’s a good idea for me to be seen with you.”

“Listen…I’m a busy guy. I have something you are going to want to see. Trust me. I’m parked at the curb. Silver Audi A8.”

The line went dead. Rivera held the handset for a second and then slowly put it back in the cradle. She looked around her empty desk for a moment and considered her empty career and quickly came to the conclusion that she had nothing to lose. She grabbed her purse and started for the elevator. Two and a half minutes later she was climbing into the front passenger seat of Rapp’s car.

“This better be good.” She put her sunglasses on and looked over at Rapp.

Rapp grabbed the gear shift and pulled it back into drive. “Put on your seatbelt.” He hit the gas and darted out into traffic.

“Where are we going?” Rivera fumbled with her seatbelt.

“Nowhere.”

She gestured with her right hand at the passing scenery. “We’re obviously going somewhere.”

“Nowhere in particular. I didn’t want to sit in front of your building.”

“Fine. What did you want to show me?”

“I have a few questions for you first.” Rapp hit his blinker and turned onto 19th Street and headed south toward the National Mall.

“I don’t like games. I’m not in the mood today. Just show me what you have.”

Rapp lowered his sunglasses a bit and looked over the top at his passenger. “You don’t like games? What in the hell would you call what you did to me in your dojo the other morning?”

She ignored the question and said, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, or if you care, but my career is basically over. Thirteen years right down the toilet.”

Rapp stopped for a red light and said, “I haven’t noticed, and no, I don’t care. I want answers, and I need them fast.”

She shook her head and looked out her window.

“At least I’m honest.”

“Good for you. An honest spy. You must be real unique.”

Rapp wasn’t a spy, but he wasn’t about to waste his time trying to correct her. “The day of the attack you said you didn’t shuffle the limos.”

“What are you talking about?”

“When you left the conference, right before the explosion, you told me everyone loaded up. You got in the first limo with Ross and Alexander and Alexander’s wife got in the second limo.”

“That’s right.”

The light turned green and Rapp took his foot off the brake. “And the limos were never shuffled. They stayed in that order until the explosion?”

“Yeah. I already told you this.”

“I’m just trying to make sure. Who decides who rides in which limo?”

Rivera frowned. Her thin dark eyebrows arching above her sunglasses. “I was the SAC. Typically, I do, but a lot of the times we work on the fly with the protectees and their staff.”