SEVENTY TWO.
The President was
reluctant to give final approval to the next part of Kennedy and
Rapp's plan. If the media ever found out they would eat him alive.
Every leader of every country would scorn him and virtually every
member of his own party would repudiate him. As Rapp had pointed
out, though, there was no other option.
They were back
downstairs in the Situation Room, just Kennedy and the President.
Kennedy was resting the phone against her shoulder waiting for the
President to answer her question.
She could tell he was
having second thoughts.
"Sir, this will not
hurt you. This was my idea, and I gave the order. Mitch has already
laid out plausible deniability. We have a source in place, and
after what happened this morning no one will be able to criticize
us for being overly cautious." Kennedy waited for a few seconds and
then added, "Both our Ambassador and the French Ambassador are out
of the building.
Now is the time,
sir."
There was no other
option. The French were refusing to delay the vote, and Rapp
insisted they not reveal what they knew about Ambassador Joussard
until the time was right. That was ammunition they would use later.
Ultimately the decision came down to trust. Hayes trusted Kennedy
and Rapp, and in addition to that they were out of options.
Hayes looked at the
director of the CIA and said, "Go ahead."
Kennedy punched in
the number, and when the familiar voice of her counterterrorism
director answered she said, "Jake, that phone call we talked about
earlier
it's time to make it." Kennedy listened only long enough
to receive confirmation and then hung up.
Kennedy had just
ordered her director of counterterrorism to inform the UN of a
suspected terrorist plot to attack the headquarters in New York
City today. Turbes was instructed to say only that the suspected
attack was linked to a larger plot including the car bombing in
D.C. The media would be informed through leaks and United Nations
World Headquarters would be evacuated within the hour.
RAPP WAS STANDING IN
THE HALLWAY outside the Roosevelt Room, his back against the wall
and his hands firmly clasped in front of him. Normally he enjoyed
being as anonymous as possible but this morning he rather relished
playing the role of intimidator. He'd even gone so far as to wait
in the conference room alone with the Ambassador until the Israeli
had been forced to ask him to leave.
His injury was
considerably better and despite not having slept much the night
before he felt okay. This was because they were finally making some
progress, taking action and forcing people to do things that would
tell them more about where they stood. Sitting back and waiting for
things to happen was contrary to Rapp's way of life. He was about
to open the door and rattle the Ambassador again when his digital
phone began to vibrate. Rapp snatched it from his belt and checked
the number before answering the call. It was the CTC.
"Hello."
"Mitch, you're not
going to believe what I'm looking at." It was Olivia Bourne and her
voice was elated.
"I've got our mystery
boy on camera. He just checked in at the United counter at
BWI."
"Baltimore Washington
International?" Rapp's voice was eager.
"You're sure it's
him?"
"The computer picked
him up first. It's been running searches all morning at Reagan,
Dulles, BWI, Union Station and Richmond. "The facial recognition
program that Bourne was referring to was able to scan hundreds of
images every second and instantaneously compare them against a
sample, which in this case was the earlier photograph of John Doe
they had from his entry into the country.
"It's him, Mitch, and
if you hold on for a second I'll give you a name and an
itinerary."
Rapp's mind was
already racing ahead.
"Have you told
anyone?"
"Only Marcus. He's
working on a name and flight right now."
"Is he still at the
counter?"
"No. He's just walked
away, but we have him on camera. He's headed toward the security
line. Hold on
Marcus has a name. Don Marin. He's booked on a
flight that leaves for Paris at ten thirty-two, and from there it
looks like he's
connecting to Nice."
The frantic
calculations and maneuvering came to an abrupt halt.
"Say that again,"
commanded Rapp. Even as Bourne repeated herself Rapp barely paid
attention. His mind was already off, looking in a different
direction, toward Europe. He was no longer frantically trying to
figure out how to get to the Baltimore airport in thirty minutes.
He was no longer trying to figure out how to deal with the airport
police and the FBI and everybody else who would want to get their
hands on the man who had more than likely killed both the
Palestinian and Saudi Ambassadors. He was suddenly seeing things
with great clarity.
"How are the cameras
at BWI?" he finally asked.
"Good."
"Good enough to make
sure he gets on that flight?"
There was a pause
while Bourne did some checking.
"I've just pulled up
his gate and they're already boarding the plane. I don't think he
has enough time to do anything other than go straight to the
gate."
"But if he's got
another ticket on another flight
"
"I'll keep an eye on
him and make sure he gets on the one to Paris."
Rapp stood calmly in
the hallway clutching the tiny phone to his left ear. If this went
wrong, he would be severely criticized for not alerting the airport
police and having John Doe arrested. If he did that, however, there
would be a record, and a lot of witnesses. And even if he did
manage to get the guy away from the police and the FBI he would
have to try to interrogate him, which Rapp detested. There was a
better way, a little bit riskier, but in the end, a way that was
much more likely to give them the truth.
Bourne's voice pulled
him back to the moment.
"What do you want me
to do?"
Rapp didn't speak at
first and then he said, "Keep an eye on him.
Make sure he gets on
that flight and get me a surveillance team and a plane."
Bourne did not reply
right away and then asked, "Are you sure you don't want to alert
the FBI and have him detained?"
No, he wasn't sure,
but he was pretty sure, and if his luck held for another thirty
minutes he'd be absolutely sure.
"Let's keep the Feds
out of this for now. Just don't lose him, and get me a
plane."
Rapp stabbed the end
button and then quickly dialed a number from memory. After several
rings Scott Coleman answered and Rapp asked, "Can you and the boys
be ready to leave within the hour?"
"May I ask where
we're going?"
"South of France. Low
intensity, mostly surveillance, but I might need you guys if I have
to do any heavy lifting."
"Standard fee?" asked
the retired SEAL.
"Of course."
"We're in."
Rapp was already on
his way downstairs.
"Good. I'll call with
the specifics, in the meantime get ready to roll."
WITH HER FINGER
POISED ABOVE THE KEYPAD of the secure phone Kennedy looked to the
President and asked, "Are you ready?"
Hayes nodded and
placed his hand near his own phone. Kennedy dialed the number from
memory, and after she'd hit the last number she gestured for the
President to pick up.
The voice that
answered on the other end was not Ben Freidman's.
It was one of his
assistants, who politely informed Kennedy that Freidman was on the
phone. Kennedy didn't doubt that. The director general of Mossad
was undoubtedly talking to Prime Minister Goldberg about the phone
call he'd just received from his Ambassador in Washington.
Kennedy told the
assistant that it was very important that she talk to Freidman and
that she would wait.
It didn't take more
than a minute for Freidman to come on the line, and when he did his
voice was cautious.
"Irene, how are
you?"
"Fine, Ben, and
you?"
"I have been better.
Much better."
"I would imagine so.
Have you heard about our meeting with your
Ambassador?"
"Yes, the unfortunate
development was just relayed to me."
"Ben, I'm calling you
as a favor. One old friend to another. The President is very
serious about this. He wants those tanks out of Hebron
immediately."
"So I've heard," was
all Freidman managed to say.
Kennedy knew he was
not about to freely offer information.
"That's not all the
President wants, Ben."
With a tired sigh,
Freidman asked, "What else does he want?"
"Your job," Kennedy
replied flatly.
"He wants you removed
as head of Mossad immediately."
"That is ludicrous.
Why would he demand such a thing, much less care who runs
Mossad?"
"He knows you lied to
us about Hebron, and allies don't lie to each other about things
like that." Kennedy looked at Hayes while silence filled the line.
She knew Freidman was trying to think of some excuse for deceiving
them.
"Ben, I'm sure you
had your reasons, but now is the time to come clean. If you care
about keeping your job, and keeping our alliance together, you'll
tell me."
Freidman
snorted.
"David Goldberg is
not about to start taking orders from anyone. Even the President of
the United States."
"Really," replied
Kennedy. Sensing Freidman's confidence was feigned, she said, "Even
if it meant ending his career in political scandal?
I'm not judging you
for what happened in Hebron. God only knows how we'd react if we
had suicide bombs going off every week, but you need to keep me in
the loop, Ben."
"What do you know
about Hebron?"
"No, Ben," Kennedy
forcefully announced.
"That's not the way
we're going to do this. If you want to keep your job, and you want
to avoid this scandal becoming public, you're going to answer the
questions.
The President is
furious, Ben! Those were Apache helicopters and Hellfire missiles."
She lowered her voice as if she didn't want to be overheard and
said, "We have satellite footage of the attacks. The President
wants to take the tapes to the UN and show the world that you and
Goldberg are liars."
Seconds ticked by
before anything was said and then finally Freidman spoke. He had no
other choice than to admit the truth.
"There was no bomb
factory."
"Why didn't you tell
me that from the start?"
"I'm sorry. I should
have." The apology did not come easily.
"Why the cover
story?" asked Kennedy.
"Because, I wasn't
going to miss the chance to take every last one of those bastards
out, but with them meeting in a neighborhood like that I knew they
would claim a massacre."
"How did you find out
about the meeting?"
"We had a
source."
"Who?" asked Kennedy
in a casual tone.
"Someone who was
working for us."
Kennedy looked at the
President for a second.
"Who was the
source?"
"I can't tell you
that."
"Ben, we're on the
same side on this. Trust me. I need you to tell me who your source
was."
Freidman was
reluctant and then said, "A Palestinian."
"Was he on your
payroll?"
"No."
"Did you recruit him,
or did he come to you?"
"A little bit of
both, I suppose."
Kennedy had no idea
whether or not this source of Freidman's was an important piece of
the puzzle, but intuition and experience told her to dig
deeper.
"Ben, if you want me
to convince the President to back off, I need you to send Jake
Turbes everything you have on this Palestinian, and I need it
immediately." For good measure she decided to add, "The President
is meeting with the Secretary of State right now. They are
discussing how to bring the Hebron evidence in front of the
UN."
Freidman tried to
figure out what Kennedy was after. His Palestinian informant was
dead along with all the other terrorists. He saw no harm in sending
her the encrypted files on him, but instinct told him there was
more going on here than he was aware of. One thing he did know,
however, was that a great deal of damage would be done if the UN
was told the truth about Hebron. After thinking about it for a good
ten seconds, and seeing no better alternative, he agreed to send
the information.