-15-

    Irene Kennedy greeted the start of the week with lime enthusiasm. The Monday morning traffic was heavy, and so was her mood. Mitch Rapp was still missing, and the only two people other than Rapp who could tell her what had happened in Germany were dead. For someone who prided herself on being able to block out distractions and focus on the task at hand, she wasn't exactly measuring up to her expectations this morning. Sitting on her lap was a copy of the president's daily brief, or PDB. The document was a highly classified newspaper that was prepared by the CIA's Office of Current Production and Analytical Support. The PDB was prepared by a dozen officers and analysts who spent much of their evening amassing the most current information that may affect the national security of the country. Every president since John E Kennedy has handled the document differently. Some have read it religiously every morning, while others have directed their national security advisors to do so. President Hayes treated it with the zeal of a Calvinist. He read it every morning, asked his briefer pointed questions, and took notes. As deputy director of Counterterrorism, Kennedy did not usually give President Hayes the daily briefing, but the attack on the White House had changed all of that. Combating terrorism had become Hayes's top priority. It worked out that she gave the briefing about once a week, sometimes more, sometimes less. President Hayes used the briefing as a cover so the two could discuss the activities of the Orion Team.

    Kennedy closed the book and looked out the window: The government sedan she was traveling in had just turned off Constitution onto 17th Street. The Ellipse was to her right, and ahead was the White House. The entire mansion was covered in scaffolding as workers raced to mend the damage of the terrorist attack by Christmas. President Hayes had been adamant that repair of the old, glorious building be conducted with around-the-clock vigilance to help erase the scars from the American mind as quickly as possible. The entire building had been placed in a bubble of aluminum and plastic to keep the cameras away. Fortunately, severe damage had been avoided, thanks to the quick actions of the fire department. The buzz around town was that the general contractor that had been hired was ahead of schedule. If they finished by Christmas, they would get a twenty-percent bonus. The West Wing was already open for business, but there was much speculation and wagering on the street about whether or not the president and the first lady would be celebrating the birth of Christ in the Executive Mansion. For now, they were staying in Blair House across the street from the Old Executive Office Building.

    The four-door sedan maneuvered its way through the barricades designed to thwart a truck bomb and stopped at the southwest gate of the White House grounds. Two uniformed Secret Service officers stepped out from the guardhouse and began checking IDs. It wasn't too long ago that they would simply have opened the gate and waved them through, but the attack had changed everything. Kennedy visited the White House frequently, and often with the same driver and bodyguard, but that didn't matter anymore. She rolled down her window and handed over her credentials. The officer looked at them briefly and then handed them back. A third Secret Service officer circled the sedan with a bomb-sniffing dog and checked the trunk. The whole exercise took less than a minute, and then the gate opened.

    The driver pulled up to the long cream-colored awning that led to the ground floor of the West Wing. Kennedy thanked the two men and told them to wait in the car. Once through the doors, she held up a heavy blue pouch with a metallic lock across the top. The officer was used to seeing the arrival of the blue pouch, which contained the PDB. The Secret Service officer sitting behind the desk said good morning and spun a clipboard around so the doctor could sign in. With that done, Kennedy headed up the stairs to her left. One of the blue suits, an agent from the president's Personal Protection Detail, was standing at the top of the stairs. She knew this meant the president was in the West Wing. Kennedy checked her watch; at 1:12, he was probably eating breakfast and reading his morning papers.

    Just before she reached the Oval Office, she stopped at a door on her right and held up the blue pouch. A towering Secret Service agent in a dark gray suit nodded and allowed admittance into the president's private dining room. Kennedy found the president sitting in his usual spot, with his four folded newspapers laid out in front of him.

    A small Filipino man dressed in a white Waistcoat and black pants approached and said, "Good morning, Dr. Kennedy."

    "Good morning, Carl."

    The man took the pouch from Kennedy and then her jacket. Kennedy sat at the circular oak table across from the president and unlocked the pouch.

    The president glanced up and said, "Good morning, Irene."

    "Good morning, sir;' "How was your weekend?"

    "Just fine, sir, and yours?"

    Kennedy extracted a copy of the PDB and slid it across the table. She knew they would continue with the small talk until Carl left.

    "It wasn't too bad. Camp David is really beautiful this time of the year." Hayes perused the headlines on the first page of the PDB and noted that they covered many of the same topics that were on the front page of the Washington Post. He knew the content would be a different matter.

    Carl approached Kennedy and set down a mug of black coffee and a blueberry muffin. "The muffins are very good today. Low fat."

    Kennedy smiled. "Thank you, Carl." The man always went out of his way to try to get her to eat.

    "Mr. President, the pot on the table is full. If you need me, just buzz."

    "Thank you, Carl." President Hayes was a huge coffee drinker. Eight to ten cups a day was his standard. He liked to point out to all who criticized his coffee consumption that Dwight D. Eisenhower drank twenty-some cups a day and smoked four packs of unfiltered cigarettes while he was the Supreme Allied Commander. After that, the man went on to serve as president for two terms and lived until he was seventy-nine. Hayes was very fond of telling overly concerned types the Eisenhower bio. His wife was equally fond of telling him, "You're no Dwight D. Eisenhower.” It had now gotten to the point where Hayes told the story just so he could hear his wife utter her line. Hayes was the first to admit he was no Dwight D. Eisenhower. Very few people were. Hayes was a Democrat, but the more time he spent in the Oval Office, the more he grew to like Eisenhower, who was a Republican. Ike was Hayes's dark horse candidate for best president. Everybody always mentioned Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, and FDR, but Ike was the only one of the group who came from abject poverty and rose to the most important office in the land. Add to that the fact that he whupped the Nazis, his trailblazing efforts to end segregation, the way he helped out the farmers, and the way he kept military spending at bay, and in Hayes's mind he had a real shot at being the best.

    The outer door clicked shut while President Hayes was pouring another cup of coffee. Looking over the top of his reading glasses, he asked, "What in the hell happened in Germany? We have a meeting with their ambassador in forty minutes."

    Kennedy didn't quite know how to answer the question since she herself was in the dark. "I'm trying to figure that out, sir. In a nutshell, we're short on specifics.”

    "Haven't you talked to Mitch?"

    Kennedy shook her head. "No. Originally, we were told that he had been lost during the operation."

    Hayes leaned forward, moving his bowl of cereal and newspapers out of his way. "Say again?"

    "Some of the other assets that were involved in the operation reported that Mitch had been killed. We no longer believe that to be true.”

    Hayes frowned. "You'd better back up and give it to me from the start.”

    Kennedy began to do so but cautioned that her information was incomplete. She went on to explain the details they had learned from their counterparts in Germany. Hayes was particularly interested in the description of the suspect who had kidnapped a cab driver and taken him to Freiburg. For the most part, the president remained calm during her summation of the weekend's events.

    When she was finished, Hayes asked, "Why haven't you debriefed the other two who were involved?"

    Kennedy hesitated at first. One of her jobs, as she saw it, was to insulate the president from this type of mess. Plausible deniability could be a very important thing. Her decision to tell him was eventually based on fear, fear of what or who might be behind the death of the Jansens. "Sir, we sent a team to pick the Jansens up in Colorado. They were preparing to make contact when they witnessed a second team… a team we know nothing about, move in and eliminate the Jansens. Our team watched from a distance as the bodies were removed and the area sanitized."

    The frown returned to the president's face. "Now I'm really confused."

    "So are we, sir."

    "Who would want to kill them?" Hayes's face twisted in a scowl. "Why?"

    "We're looking into that, sir."

    "Could the Germans move that fast?"

    "I doubt it, sir."

    "What about something completely unrelated? Is it possible this was about something else they were involved in?" President Hayes was grabbing for any reason other than the one he didn't want to hear. That they had been compromised, that there was a leak somewhere.

    "Anything is possible, but for obvious reasons, I don't like the timing."

    "What about Mitch? What are we doing to bring him in?"

    "Nothing."

    "What?"

    "Sir, this is what Mitch does best. He's trained to disappear. If we start looking for him, it will only make things worse."

    Hayes still didn't like the idea. "There has to be something we can do."

    Kennedy shook her head. "Director Stansfield agrees with me.”

    "Then what's our plan of action?"

    "The unknown team that hit the Jansens… we are in the process of tracking them down.”

    The president sat back and looked out the window at the Old Executive Office Building. For almost a minute, he didn't speak. His mind was filtering through all of the possibilities, none of which he particularly liked. It would be nice if these Jansen people were killed by a former employer, but Kennedy was right; given the timing, it was highly unlikely. For an operation that no one was supposed to know about, things didn't look good.

    Finally, Hayes turned back to Kennedy and said, "Find out who got to the Jansens, and do it as quickly and quietly as possible.”

    "I will, sir.”

    "Now, about this meeting with the German ambassador, we need to get on the same page about a few things."

    AT ELEVEN MINUTES after eight, President Hayes, Dr. Kennedy, and the president's national security advisor, Michael Haik, entered the Oval Office through the president's private study. Seated at the two long couches in front of the fireplace were some of the administration's biggest hitters. Robert Xavier Hayes didn't become president of the United States by missing out on the importance of showmanship. He had a rough plan for how this meeting would go, and the list of attendees was part of it.

    Everyone stood when Hayes entered the room. The President walked over to the German ambassador, Gustav Koch, and shook his hand. He then grabbed one of the two chairs in front of the fireplace. Michael Haik took the other chair, and Kennedy sat on the couch next to General Flood, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs. Next to General Flood sat his boss, Secretary of Defense Rick Culbertson. Directly across from them sat Secretary of State Midleton and the German ambassador.

    President Hayes sat back and crossed his legs. He had a deeply concerned look on his face as he glanced over at Ambassador Koch. Inside, he was relishing the thoughts that must have been going through his secretary of state's head as well as the German ambassador's. They were the ones who had called this meeting. It was unusual, to say the least, that the secretary of Defense and the chairman of the Joint Chiefs were asked to attend a meeting that clearly fell under the purview of Foggy Bottom.

    Introductions were made for the benefit of the ambassador. Hayes clasped his hands over his knee and asked, "What can I do for you this morning, Mr. Ambassador?"

    Ambassador Koch cleared his throat and glanced at the secretary of state before starting. Then, turning back to President Hayes, he said, "Chancellor Vogt asked that I speak to you about a very serious matter." Koch spoke perfect English, without the slightest trace of an accent. He was not a dumb man. A career politician for thirty-one of his sixty years, he understood the significance of the presence of the two men from the Pentagon. That was why he had immediately interjected the name of the leader of Germany into the conversation.

    For Hayes's part, he wasn't going to make this easy for the ambassador and, more importantly, for the secretary of state. He made no effort to communicate that he knew what this meeting was about. Koch grew a little uncomfortable at the silence and looked to the secretary of state for assistance.

    Finally, Midleton said, "Sir, I assume you've been briefed about what happened in Germany over the weekend."

    Midleton looked at Hayes for confirmation but got none. "Sir, I'm referring to the assassination of Count Hagenmiller and the fire that destroyed one of the finest homes in Europe and,” Midleton added with an agonized tone, "a priceless art collection.”

    Hayes finally nodded. "I'm familiar with the situation.”

    No words of sympathy were offered.

    "Sir,” Secretary Midleton continued. "Ambassador Koch knew Count Hagenmiller quite well, as did Chancellor Vog.”

    Hayes nodded just once and again offered no words of condolence.

    Koch was confused by President Hayes's lack of sensitivity, but since he had only dealt with the man on a limited basis, he ignored the strangeness and stated his case. "Chancellor Vogt is deeply concerned that the assassination of Count Hagenmiller may have been carried out by a foreign intelligence service.”

    "Really, and why does he think that?" The president kept his eyes focused on the ambassador's.

    "We are privy to certain information that leads us to that conclusion."

    "And what would that information be?"

    Ambassador Koch sat rigid. "We have been told that the count was under surveillance during the days leading up to his death.”

    "By whom?"

    Koch glanced at Irene Kennedy and then the president. "The CIA.”

    “And?"

    "Can you confirm or deny that the CIA had Count Hagenmiller under surveillance?"

    "I can confirm that the CIA had him under surveillance prior to his death.”

    The ambassador was happy that he had received on honest answer. He was, however, less than enthusiastic about where he had to take the conversation. Choosing his words carefully, he said, "We have been very good allies for a long time, Mr. President. Chancellor Vogt is deeply concerned that the relationship may be in jeopardy over this incident."

    "Why is that?" Hayes knew what the ambassador was implying, but he wanted to hear him say it.

    Koch looked down uncomfortably at his hands and then glanced at Kennedy before turning back to the president. "The chancellor is worried that… the CIA… may have acted without your authority and done something that would offend even the most ardent American supporters in my country."

    In a way, Hayes felt sorry for the ambassador. It was highly probable that he had intentionally been kept in the dark about Count Hagenmiller's recent business dealings. He was advised by Kennedy that there was a good chance the German chancellor was also unaware of Hagenmiller's nefarious dealings. This was the only thing that was keeping Hayes from going ballistic.

    "Mr. Ambassador, I, too, value our friendship. Germany is one of our greatest allies." The president leaned forward and rubbed his hands together. "How well do you know Count Hagenmiller? I mean, did you know?"

    "Fairly well. His family is very well respected and very involved in the arts and a variety of philanthropic endeavors.”

    "Did you know that he has been selling highly sensitive equipment to Saddam Hussein? Equipment that is used to manufacture components for nuclear weapons?"

    The bomb had been dropped. Secretary Midleton shifted uncomfortably, and his face turned a touch ashen. Ambassador Koch took a little more convincing. "I find I that very hard to believe, Mr. President."

    "Is that so?" Hayes stuck out his hand, and Kennedy handed him a file. The president opened it and held up a photograph. "The man on the left I'm sure you recognize. Do you know who the other man is?"

    Koch shook his head. He had a sinking feeling that he didn't want to know either.

    "He is none other than Abdullah Khatami. Does the name ring a bell?"

    "No.”

    "He's a general in the Iraqi army:" Hayes's voice was beginning to take on an edge. "He is in charge of rebuilding Saddam's nuclear weapons program. What you see happening here" - the president stuck out the photo so there could be no misinterpretation - "is Count Hagenmiller receiving a briefcase from Khatami containing five million dollars.”

    Ambassador Koch was disbelieving. "I knew Count Hagenmiller. I don't think he was capable of such a thing. He didn't need money. He was very wealthy: Are you sure the cash wasn't for artwork? The count was an avid collector."

    Secretary of State Midleton managed to compose himself just long enough to add a pathetic nod for support.

    Hayes let his anger build. It was all part of the plan. In a much louder voice, he said, "Count Hagenmiller was nowhere near as wealthy as you thought. Did you know that last night, the same night the count was killed, a breakin occurred at the Hagenmiller Engineering warehouse in Hanover?"

    Kennedy corrected him. "It was Hamburg, sir."

    "Hamburg. Thank you. This breakin was part of an elaborate plan by the count and Khatami to ensure that Khatami got what he needed for Saddam." Hayes shook his fist and added in an icy tone, "Before you come in here and start accusing me and my people of assassination, I think you should start looking for answers within your own government. And while you're at it, you might want to ask the Iraqis what they were up to last night.” The president stood. "Now, I have a very busy schedule today, Mr. Ambassador, so if you'll excuse me, I have to get some work done.”

    The ambassador rose slowly and kept his eyes averted from the president's. "My apologies if I've upset you, sir. In my position I am not always given the full picture.”

    "I know you aren't, Gustav. Don't blame yourself. But do me a favor and tell the diplomats back in Berlin to do some checking with the BKA before they send you in here to toss wild accusations about.”

    "I will, Mr. President.” The two men shook hands, and then the German ambassador started for the door. Secretary Midleton rose to follow, but President Hayes cut him off." Mr. Ambassador, I need a few minutes of Secretary Midleton's time. Would you please wait for him outside?" The ambassador left, and Hayes turned back to Midleton. "Sit.”

    Midleton reluctandy returned to his seat. The president took off his suit coat and threw it over the chair he had been sitting in. With his hands planted firmly on his hips, he studied his secretary of state. Hayes had known Midleton from his time in the Senate. He liked him well enough, but the man had not been his first choice for the top job at the State Department. In truth, Hayes found him to be a bit of an elitist snob. To make matters worse, there had been a recent spate of foreign policy statements released from the secretary's Ioffice that were not in line with the White House's official position.

    "Chuck, whose side are you on?" Hayes intentionally called him Chuck instead of Charles.

    Midleton rolled his eyes. "I won't dignify that question with an answer.”

    "Please," baited the president, "lower yourself to my level.”

    Midleton took the offense. "Count Hagenmiller was a good man. I don't buy this story the CIA has concocted. My people in Berlin are telling me this looks very bad for us."

    "Concocted!" shouted Hayes. "You haven't seen one-tenth of what she has on him." The president pointed at Kennedy.

    "Why was the CIA watching him?" snapped Midleton. Hayes folded his arms across his chest. He had a temper but rarely let it be seen. If he had an issue with someone, he usually took them behind closed doors and had it out. This was now beyond that. Midleton's arrogance was insufferable. Hayes speculated that the man had never got- ten it into his head that they were no longer equals. Hayes had been junior to him in the Senate, and now with Midleton holding the glamour post in the administration, it appeared the man thought he was untouchable. Hayes stared him down and thought, You've challenged me in front of three other cabinet members. You've left me no choice.

    "Chuck, let me get a few things straight. First of all, it's none of your damn business why the CIA had Hagenmiller under surveillance, and, more importantly, I'd like to know how in the hell you ever found out about it."

    Midleton hesitated. Hayes was as angry as he'd ever seen him. Sidestepping the question didn't appear to be an option. He looked across at General Rood and Secretary Culbertson. Neither looked as if he would intervene on his behalf. Jonathan Brown told me, but," Midleton cautioned, "it was perfectly legitimate. I spoke with him on Saturday morning when I found out that the count had been assassinated."

    Jonathan Brown was the deputy director of Central Intelligence, Thomas Stansfield's number two man. Hayes looked at Kennedy briefly and then went back to Midleton. "Let's get something straight, Chuck. In the future, if you would like to get any information from Langley, you are to go through this man right here." Hayes pointed to Michael Haik… As national security advisor, that is Michael's job. And more importantly, the next time you feel like sharing sensitive intelligence information with a foreign diplomat… check with me first."