Vince Flynn - Act of Treason

A hand shot up and then a man stood blocking a good portion of the camera angle. The image on the TV quickly switched to show the reporter from the front. As he began to speak his name appeared at the bottom of the screen along with the newspaper he worked for. It was Sam Cohen, the White House correspondent forThe New York Times.

“Director Kennedy, are you denying reports that the CIA kidnapped Mr. Deckas from his home on Cyprus?”

The camera angle switched back around to Kennedy. “I would use the wordapprehended.”

“So you’re not denying it?”

Kennedy pursed her lips for a moment and then said, “No.”

Cohen wrote while he talked. “Are you denying reports that Mitch Rapp shot this man four times, once in each knee and then again in both hands?”

Once again Kennedy paused and then gave her one word response. “No.”

Cohen had a look of surprised amusement on his face. “Were these injuries inflicted while Agent Rapp was torturing Mr. Deckas?”

“They occurred during the apprehension of the suspect, but I think you’re getting a bit ahead of the story here, Sam.”

“With all due respect, Director Kennedy, I think the torturing of a fellow human in any situation is an outrage. Our courts have repeatedly said the same thing. The torturing of someone whose guilt or innocence has yet to be proved is an utter travesty.”

“If the man was indeedinnocent, and he had in fact been tortured, I would agree with you.”

“You have shown us nothing that comes close to proving that this Deckas fellow was the one who attacked the motorcade and I can’t conceive of a scenario where an individual gets shot in both knees and both hands while being arrested.”

Kennedy’s calm neutral demeanor melted into a playful smile. “That’s because you interrupted me, Sam. It appears to be a habit ofThe New York Times to jump to conclusions before gathering all the facts.”

The smile was what gave Ross reason to pause. It was the same smile one would give during a chess match when an opponent had stepped into your trap. Something was wrong. Her expression was not what he expected from someone who was about to be gang raped by the media. Ross watched as she turned back to the screen and pressed the remote. The photo of Deckas stayed on the screen and was joined by a second, younger photo of him.

“Mr. Deckas is in fact not a Greek citizen. His real name is Gavrilo Gazich, and he is wanted by The Hague for war crimes committed in the former republic of Yugoslavia. Mr. Gazich is a person of Bosnian heritage who is charged with killing over three dozen men, women, and children during the war. Five years ago he moved to Cyprus and set up a fake identity and a company that specialized in bringing aid to the impoverished nations of Africa. Based on information we found at his office and home, we are now looking into the fact that he may have been involved in as many as sixteen assassinations over the past decade. His targets included a United Nations official, relief workers, politicians, warlords, generals, and at least one reporter.”

Garret tore his eyes away from the TV and said, “What the fuck is this?”

Before Ross could answer Kennedy continued. “Mr. Gazich has admitted his role in the attack here in Washington this past October.”

“Was that confession made before or after he’d been shot in both knees?” The voice was that of Sam Cohen of theTimes. He stayed in his seat this time.

Kennedy did not bother to look at the screen. She kept her eyes on Cohen while she hit the remote, bringing up two new photos. The screen was filled with two ashen-faced dead men. “While observing Mr. Gazich’s movements on the island of Cyprus, the CIA team watched him kill these two men. We do not know who they are, but we have reason to believe they are Russian. We also think they were sent to kill Mr. Gazich so he would no longer be a liability to whoever it was who hired him to attack President-Elect Alexander’s motorcade.

“Here is a brief excerpt of Gazich’s confession. I can’t play all of it for you because he told us some things that we are still investigating.” Kennedy pressed a button again and a typed transcript appeared on the screen of the audio. A second later, voices could be heard.

“How did you get into the U.S.? Be careful. Take your time to think this one through. You wouldn’t want to lie to me.”

“I flew into New York the day before.”

“Which airport?”

“JFK.”

“The explosives?”

“They were waiting for me.”

“Where?”

“ Pennsylvania.”

“The state?”

“Yes, the state. Now give me my shot.”

“Not quite yet. You’re doing a good job, though. So you pick up the van, drive it down to Washington…when, on Friday?”

“No, I told you I arrived in New York on Friday.”

“So you stayed in Pennsylvania on Friday night?”

“Yes…Yes! The van was waiting for me and I drove it down to Washington early on Saturday morning. I found my spot, I parked it, I waited, and then when the time was right I blew it up. End of story.”

Garret stood abruptly. “This is all bullshit…right? I mean she’s making this shit up. Isn’t she?”

Ross had his arms folded across his chest, his fist balled up and under his chin. Without bothering to look at Garret he snapped, “Shut up, so I can hear what she’s saying.”

“Director Kennedy,” it was Cohen again, “was that tape made before or after the suspect had been shot?”

“What’s your point, Sam?”

“When someone has been shot in both knees and both hands and then interrogated, it’s reasonable to assume that they would say anything to avoid further pain. That’s called coercion. And if Mitch Rapp shot this man before questioning him there’s not a judge in the land who is going to allow this confession into evidence.”

“I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention, Sam, but this is a pretty nasty business. You don’t send a Boy Scout out to capture a monster like Gavrilo Gazich. You need to send someone like Mitch Rapp. You don’t yellfreeze, you don’t flash a badge, you disable the man, so you don’t end up like these two guys.” Kennedy pointed the remote at the screen and returned to the photo of the two dead men. “As for your question as to whether or not the confession was coerced, I’ll let the totality of the evidence speak for itself.”

Kennedy put a photograph of Gazich up on the screen. “This is the man who remote-detonated the bomb that killed nineteen Americans this past October. In addition to his confession, we have discovered some key evidence in his home and office that we think will lead us to the people who hired him. I thank you for your time this morning, and I’d be more than happy to take a few questions.”

The room burst into a free-for-all as more than a dozen reporters burst to their feet and began shouting questions.

Ross quietly swore to himself while Garret let loose a string of profanity.

“What the fuck are we going to do?” Garret asked. “Those assholes said they were going to take care of this.”

Ross stood motionless, with his arms folded and his fist looking like he might drive it through his own chin. Slowly but surely he began to tremble and his face turned crimson.

Garret paced back and forth before him. Ranting and raving. “Did you hear what that bitch said?” He stopped and pointed at the TV, as if Ross might think he was talking about someone else. “She said they have information. Information that is going to lead them to the people who hired Gazich! Did you fucking hear her?”

“Yes, I fucking heard her!” Ross snapped and then clenched both fists in front of him like he wanted to pound the hell out of someone. He stepped toward Garret and lowered his voice. “I tell you what you’re going to do, Stu. You are going to get on a plane this afternoon, and you are going to fly over there, and you are going to tell thoseidiots that I don’t care who they have to kill to put a lid on this thing. I want anyone outside the immediate circle dealt with, and I meananyone. And don’t take any shit from them. They promised this guy would be dealt with and they blew it, so I don’t want to hear another word about a pardon until they have erased all possible connections between them and this Gazich guy. Have I made myself clear?”