Vince Flynn - Extreme Measures

Wassen swallowed. “So where does it go from here? We’ve been flooded with calls. Are you going to open it up to the press at two?”

Lonsdale took a long drag and then, after she’d exhaled, began laughing hysterically.

“What’s so funny?”

“There isn’t going to be any hearing this afternoon. At least not in front of my committee.”

Wassen was stunned. “How is that possible?”

“That little shit,” she said, “put the fear of God into all those little pussies I serve with. He wanted to have a public hearing this afternoon. He was willing to admit to hitting and choking and electrocuting that damn terrorist in front of a roomful of cameras, and he was going to say he did it all to protect us against an imminent attack by some phantom terrorist cell. And then he gave them a second option, which was to refer the entire matter back to the Intelligence Committee, where things could be handled in a more secret manner.”

“And?”

“My own damn party ran out on me. There was a heated thirty-minute debate on the matter, a vote to refer it back to the Intelligence Committee, and it was over.”

“How did the vote break?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “It wasn’t even close. It was seven to one before it even got to me, and that was on my side of the aisle.”

Wassen winced and asked, “Anything else?”

She had her head all the way back again. She groaned and said, “Ted Darby whispered in my ear, at one point, that if I didn’t calm down and begin acting reasonably, he would make sure my chairmanship was taken away from me.”

“Oh my God,” Wassen mumbled. Ted Darby was perhaps the most powerful man in the entire Senate and not someone who was prone to making empty threats. “So where do you go from here?”

“I don’t know. I suppose I can go after him when he comes before the Intel Committee, but I don’t think I’m going to get much support.”

Wassen looked at his watch. It was a few minutes past noon. She was already late for her lunch appointment. “I hate to do this to you, but you have a lunch date with Joe Barreiro.”

Lonsdale grabbed her forehead with her free hand and said, “I can’t do it. No way. I don’t think I could hold it together. I’ll end up saying something that could land me in hot water with the Ethics Committee. Hell… probably even the Justice Department.” She paused for a moment and then started laughing. “Wouldn’t that be something? After all this, I’m the one who ends up getting indicted.”

“You’re not going to get indicted. Do you want me to go in your place?”

“No.” She waved her hand. “Just cancel it.”

“Bad idea.”

“Why?”

“Barreiro doesn’t like getting stood up. He’s likely to write something really nasty about you, and from what it sounds like, the last thing you need right now is some bad press.”

“You’re right.”

“What should I tell him?”

“Tell him my party has abandoned me. That they no longer care about government employees following the law.”

“How about I tell him that Rapp brought some disturbing information before your committee, and you have decided that, for the sake of national security, you would refer the entire matter to the Intelligence Committee, where it can be handled with sensitivity.”

“Take credit for it?” she asked in near total exasperation.

“That’s the general idea.”

“No way in hell. This thing will turn someday, and I’ll be standing there looking at all these gutless bastards… and we’ll all know whose fault this was.”

“Fine.” Wassen stood. “Would you like me to tell him the vote was eighteen to two? Let me guess: the only other person to join you was our stalwart communist, Chuck Levine?”

“Do you really think I need this right now?”

“What you don’t need is more bad press than you’re already going to get.”

“Fine… I don’t care,” she said without looking at him.

Wassen looked down at her and hesitated to bring to her attention that he had warned her about this. He wanted to say to her, And what happens if Rapp is right? How will you handle it when all of your colleagues look at you with derision? But he couldn’t. Not now, while she was so thoroughly beaten. It would be cruel. He would wait for a few days to pass and then try to talk some sense into her. And in the meantime, he would give Barreiro a version of the events that would make his boss look more moderate.

RAPP, Kennedy, O’Brien, and Ridley went up to Hart 216 and ensconced themselves in one of the secure conference rooms, so they could have some privacy and take advantage of the phones. Rapp’s club sandwich and fries lay half eaten in a Styrofoam container. He was up and moving. His jacket was hung over one of the empty chairs and he had his arms crossed while he slowly walked from one end of the conference room to the other. O’Brien and Ridley paid him no attention. They were used to the fact that the man seemed to be in perpetual motion, and they were too interested in finishing their own lunch. Kennedy, however, was watching him with her sad, thoughtful eyes. She’d already closed the lid on her salad and pushed it aside.

She took a sip of Diet Coke and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Rapp scratched his hand with his left hand. “I’ve got a bad feeling.”

“You said things went well,” Kennedy said reassuringly.

“They did. I’m not talking about that stuff… I’m worried about what’s going on out there.” Rapp waved his hand toward the walls.

Kennedy smiled. He had never been comfortable in this role of bureaucrat. Not that he wasn’t good at it – he was. He was just infinitely better in the field, left to his own devices and judgment. His true talent was wasted in these meeting rooms, but she’d needed him to make a statement. She could have said everything he’d said, and the majority of the senators would have dismissed it out of hand. But Rapp was something different. A dirty, muddy, and bloody soldier returning from the front lines to report to the generals that the situation was quite different than it appeared from the safety of the rear. Rapp was a man of action who had bled for, and done great things for, his country. Few, if any, knew the specifics of what he’d done, but the rumors were enough for them to give great weight to his words. There would be a few like Lonsdale, however, who so despised what he stood for that they would never listen. But the majority would be sensible, for in the end, they were politicians, and the one thing they could be counted on doing was to act in their own self-interest.

“Just a few more hours this afternoon and then hopefully we can move forward with their support.”

“I’m not worried about that,” said Rapp in a grave voice. “I’m worried about this damn third cell. According to the Brits, D-day was set for next week.”

O’Brien and Ridley stopped talking and looked at Rapp. They knew if he was concerned, they should be concerned. “Mitch, we don’t even know if this third cell is for real, and if they do exist, there was a good chance they were scared off after the other two failed to report in.”

Kennedy watched Rapp and could tell there was something else on his mind that he wasn’t saying. “What’s wrong?”

Rapp looked at the two men and then Kennedy. “I talked to Nash right before lunch. He says one of his guys has missed his last two check-ins.”

“Which guy?”

“It sounds like Chris Johnson.”

“What check-in? We pulled the damn plug on the whole thing.” O’Brien said with anger. “It was supposed to be shut down.”

“Don’t go all HQ on me, Chuck,” Rapp shot back with every bit as much anger. “We’ve all been in the field before. We all know what it’s like to bust your ass on something for months and then have HQ hit you over the head with some asinine order.”