Executive Power Part 5

Jones still stood defiantly and asked for a second time, "Are you done?"

Rapp's face actually broke into a smile. He looked at the President for a moment. Hayes was notorious for letting his aides battle it out.

His motto was that he'd rather get it all out in the open than let it fester under the surface.

Looking at Jones, Rapp thought, I can't believe I actually saved this woman's life. Shaking his head, he said, "I've got one last thing to say. If it wasn't for me' Valerie you'd be dead." Rapp turned and started for the door. Over his shoulder he said, "So I'd appreciate a little more grat.i.tude. "When Rapp reached the door he opened it and looked back at Jones.

"Oh, and by the way, you'd better figure out how you're going to spin this when it breaks, because I'm not going to stay quiet."

TEN.

The room was located on the seventh floor of the hotel. David slid his pa.s.skey into the slot and when the light turned green he placed his forearm on the handle and opened the door. His meeting with General Hamza hadn't lasted long, and knowing what the future had in store for the Iraqi thug helped to make their encounter more bearable than usual. Fortunately, Hamza hadn't indulged in his usual hour of browbeating and self-aggrandizement. The general was very fond of reminding his contact of the Palestinian people's position in the Arab pecking order. In Hamza's exalted point of view, the Palestinians ranked just above camel dung.

When the general finished his drink and stood to leave, David knew what was causing him to cut short tonight's lecture. There was something in Hamza's room that the general wanted to get back to. It was for that reason that David was in a hurry. His spies had followed the general's men earlier in the day and had witnessed them once again kidnap a young girl.

He'd never left the hotel. After watching the general and his bodyguards leave, David waited a few minutes and then headed for the lobby. One of his people met him and took the cases. David then headed up to the room that he'd checked into three days earlier.

Grabbing a pair of latex gloves from his pocket, he went to work.

In front of the bathroom mirror he peeled off the beard and wiped clean the gray dye from his hair and eyebrows. Both the beard and the damp washcloth were placed in a Ziploc bag. Next he took off the suit and shoes and grabbed a backpack from the closet. He put on a pair of black pants, black tennis shoes, dark shirt and coat and then rolled the other clothes up tightly and stuffed everything into the backpack. After going over the room one last time to make sure he wasn't leaving anything behind, David walked to the sliding gla.s.s door and yanked it open.

Before stepping onto the balcony he peered to his left and right to see if anyone was about. With the balconies on either side clear, David casually walked outside and continued his surveillance. From one of the rooms below he could hear loud music playing on a stereo. David's eyes burned with hatred at the thought of what might already be happening.

General Hamza was a vile, disgusting man in so many ways, but none more so than in his penchant for young girls. Prep.u.b.escent girls to be precise. David had discovered this perverse side of the general while he'd been watching him for the last several months. There had been at least two other occasions that David knew of where the general's bodyguards had s.n.a.t.c.hed young Palestinian girls from the street and brought them back to the hotel so the general could have his fun with them. Using his contacts with the local Jordanian authorities, David dug around and found that the police had actually attempted to question the general about some of the girls who had been abducted.

Several days later word had come down from the highest of places telling the police not to hara.s.s General Hamza. The Jordanians were not about to let the welfare of a handful of young Palestinian girls interfere with their relations with Iraq.

As David tied a climbing rope to the side of his balcony, he focused on the task at hand. This would not be the first time he'd killed and it certainly wouldn't be the last. He always operated with a calm precision that steered clear of either anger or pleasure. Tonight, however, he was finding it a bit difficult to suppress some of his feelings about the job at hand. The arrogance of General Hamza had gotten to him. The Iraqis had co-opted the Palestinian issue under the guise of Arab brotherhood for the simple goal of driving a wedge between the Arab states and America. If it was only that, David could live with it. He had a grudging respect for America and in the end felt they would do what was right. And if it was only the way the Iraqis lied with such vehemence, he could deal with it. Lying to other tribes was an accepted part of the culture of his people. What really boiled his blood, however, was the way the Iraqis treated Palestinians when the cameras weren't around. It was their arrogance and condescension, and on top of that the way they bullied their brothers in arms. When you fought your way through all the bl.u.s.tery dictums and rhetoric, the Iraqis were out for no one other than themselves.

There was one more thing about the Iraqi general that tested David's composure. It was his utter contempt of and downright hatred for women. Growing up in Jerusalem David was the only boy in his family. He had three older sisters. His father was Palestinian and his mother Jordanian. Both had been educated in Britain. His father was an attorney and his mother was a doctor. In a part of the world where equality between the s.e.xes was still a long way off, David had grown up in a house where there was never a doubt that his mother and father were on the same footing. In fact, if pressed, David would probably admit that his mother was the more dominant of the two. All three of his sisters had gone to America and had become doctors. The two eldest remained in the States where they practiced medicine, and the youngest had come back to help her mother with her practice in Jerusalem. David held his sisters in the highest regard, and unlike many of his Arab brothers he did not adhere to the belief that women should be treated like property.

As David tied off the black climbing rope he muttered a curse and stopped fighting his anger. Nothing boiled his blood more than someone taking advantage of the weak. He pulled on a pair of leather gloves and splaying his fingers apart, worked the leather down firmly into one crook after another. After checking his weapons one last time he pulled a black balaclava over his head and adjusted it so only his dark eyes were visible. With everything in order, he swung one leg over the edge and then the other.

Loosening his grip ever so slightly, David slithered slowly down the rope until his foot touched the railing of the balcony beneath. Deftly he leapt from his perch and landed softly on the concrete surface of the balcony. What little noise he made was masked by the music coming from within the room. Cautiously, he leaned around the edge of the wall to see what was going on inside. The sheer curtain was drawn, but the heavy curtain was not. The room was lit with candles and David could make out a form hovering near what he knew to be the bed.

David saw the form jerk in a forward motion and he thought he heard a m.u.f.fled scream follow. Moving back quickly he took off his backpack and then placed his hand on the door. Slowly, he applied pressure and was not surprised to find that the door was locked.

Crouching, he reached into the backpack and extracted a thin piece of sheet metal with a notch in the end. David took the piece of metal and gently wedged it between the frame and heavy sliding gla.s.s door. Twisting it counterclockwise he waited until he had the right amount of tension and then lifted up. Not pausing to see if the general had heard the click, David slid the piece of sheet metal into his coat pocket with one hand and grabbed for his silenced 9mm gun with the other. With his eyes trained on the shadow on the other side of the large suite, he began opening the door. Moving the sheer curtain out of the way, he stepped into the room and was sickened by what he saw.

Standing naked over the girl, a sweaty General Hamza brought a riding crop high above his head and let loose with a wicked blow. The young girl was tied to the bed facedown, spread-eagle, with a gag in her mouth. Her entire body shuddered as the leather crop met her flesh. She tried to scream, but it only came out as another m.u.f.fled cry.

Her delicate skin had been breached in at least a dozen places.

David stared in horror at the long, b.l.o.o.d.y welts. Hamza, with his back to him, raised the crop above his head again, poised to unleash another blow. David suddenly wanted very badly to hurt him, not just kill him. Moving quickly, he reached Hamza just as the crop was about to strike the girl. His right hand came crashing down in a motion that mimicked Hamza's, but before the leather crop could strike the girl again, the black steel of David's pistol made contact with the base of the general's neck.

Hamza dropped the riding crop instantly, lurching forward and falling unsteadily to one knee. David hovered over him for a split second and then unleashed a second blow. This time the pistol grip landed on the top of Hamza's head. The general wavered for a moment like a tree that couldn't decide which way it would fall, and then before gravity could take hold David reached out and grabbed a handful of hair.

Not wanting to alert the bodyguards in the next room, he carefully lowered the naked body of Hamza to the floor.

David grabbed a sheet and covered the young girl. As he looked down at Hamza with disgust and hatred a battle was raging within him. All of his instincts told him to finish off the general and then take care of the bodyguards. That would be the professional way to proceed.

The vengeful voice in his head, though, wanted the general to suffer, and it was winning.

David moved for the door that connected the general's room to that of his bodyguards. Without a moment of hesitation he grabbed the handle and yanked it open. He knew the layout of the room, and his silenced pistol was up and already sweeping the area where he'd most likely find the two thugs, while he stayed in the doorway, hugging the frame to reduce his silhouette on the off chance one of the men might get off a shot.

Neither of them did. They were watching TV and looked up expecting to see their boss, but instead found a man wearing a black mask and pointing a gun at them. The weapon was fired twice in less than half a second. At a distance of just eighteen feet David never doubted his accuracy. Both 9mm, subsonic hollow-tipped rounds found their mark, hitting the bodyguards dead center between the eyes. The two Iraqis died instantly.

David closed and locked the door and then after another brief internal battle he decided on a course of action. From an a.s.sa.s.sin's point of view it wasn't the smart thing to do, but it was definitely the right thing to do. He would have to deviate from his well-planned script, but he wasn't about to leave this poor young girl behind in the hotel room to face further pain and humiliation when the police arrived. No, she would be coming with him. He was getting ahead of himself, though.

First he had to think of an appropriate way to kill the naked Iraqi pig who was lying on the floor before him. David began cutting the young girl's bonds and with each slice of the knife the proper death sentence became more clear to him.

ELEVEN.

Rapp's performance wasn't exactly what Kennedy had had in mind, but she could tell that it had an impact on the President.

An added bonus was that Kennedy couldn't remember a time when she'd seen Valerie Jones so fl.u.s.tered. The President's animated chief of staff was silenced for once, waiting desperately for someone else to come to her defense now that Rapp had left. She looked from the President, to Flood, to Kennedy, and then back around again. Having found no comfort she settled on looking out the window and tapping her foot. Kennedy wondered if Jones honestly thought she would receive any solace from her or General Flood.

After several more moments of tense silence, Jones couldn't take it anymore. She looked at the President and blurted, "I warned you that having him around was a bad idea."

President Hayes looked at his chief of staff evenly.

"I don't always agree with Mitch's opinions, but I do always value them."

"Robert, he doesn't see the big picture. He doesn't understand the negative impact this type of scandal will have on your presidency."

Hayes c.o.c.ked his head a bit to the side and said, "I have a feeling that Mitch would say it's you who don't see the big picture."

Jones exhaled in frustration.

"I'm not going to sit here and debate the big picture with some a.s.sa.s.sin from the CIA." Jones turned to Kennedy and said, "No offense, Irene, but I'm paid to put all the pieces of the puzzle together and minimize the President's exposure. You don't have to have a doctorate in political science to figure out what's going to happen when this story breaks. We are going to get eaten alive by the press, and then the committees on the Hill will begin to call for hearings"-she turned her attention to Hayes-"and they will make d.a.m.n sure they drag you through the mud right up to your reelection."

To everyone's surprise Kennedy said, "I agree with Valerie."

Looking smug with her newfound support, Jones said, "Even his own boss agrees with me."

Kennedy held up a finger and added, "I do, but with one exception.

You'll never be able to keep a lid on this. The press already knows something's up. By the end of today, they'll have a pretty good handle on this story, and we'll probably see our first installment in the morning papers."

"But we can handle that," Jones jumped in.

"I already have our people working on the press release. The servicemen were lost in a joint training exercise with the Philippine army. "Jones looked to General Flood.

"This type of thing happens all the time, right?"

Before the general could answer, the President said, "The Philippine Amba.s.sador has already called twice this morning, and I a.s.sure you it wasn't to talk about the weather."

Jones batted away the concern with her hand.

"They need our aid to prop up their economy. All we need to do is throw them some more money, and they'll play ball."

Kennedy slowly shook her head.

"Too many people know about this, sir. There's no way you're going to be able to keep a lid on it."

The President was leaning back now, tapping his forefinger against his upper lip.

Before he could say anything, Jones jumped back into the debate.

"Give me one week. That's all I'm asking for. One week and I'll have the press looking into something else, I promise."

Hayes looked to the chairman of the Joint Chiefs and said, "General, you're unusually quiet this morning. Is there anything you'd care to add?"

General Flood was an imposing man and even more so in his uniform.

A few inches over six feet tall and pushing three hundred pounds he looked more like a retired football player than a man who still liked to jump out of planes a couple of times a year. It was evident from his face that he was trying to choose his words carefully. Keeping his eyes on the President he finally said, "Sir, I couldn't disagree with Miss Jones more emphatically."

The President was looking at Flood, but from the corner of his eye he could see his chief of staff begin to squirm. Ignoring her he said, "Please elaborate."

"We have announced that we are at war with terrorism. We have proof that at a bare minimum a Philippine general is taking bribes from a known terrorist organization that has taken a family of Americans hostage. We have proof that a State Department official, who was told in no uncertain terms that this rescue operation was to be kept secret, decided on her own volition to break federal law and discuss this information with an overseas State Department official. We have a U.S. Amba.s.sador, who took it upon himself to brief the head of a foreign country that U.S. Special Forces were about to conduct a covert operation on that country's soil. Any reasonable person would conclude that these actions clearly led to the deaths of two U.S. Navy SEALs.

You have said it yourself, Mr. President, we are at war. This is serious business, and in my mind the Amba.s.sador and the under Secretary are traitors and their actions cannot go unpunished."

"I agree that they should be punished," Jones said quickly before anyone else could speak.

"I say we ship them off to the worst posting we can think of. I say we not only make them take a cut in pay, but we make them pay rest.i.tution to the families of the two dead soldiers. I say-" "Dead sailors," the general corrected her. Looking back to the President he added, "I happen to agree with Mitch. If it were up to me, I would have these two marched in front of a firing squad and shot, but I realize in today's world that will never happen. I do, however, think they need to spend some hard time in jail and they need to be publicly humiliated. They need be made an example of."

Jones, desperate to turn the tide of this conversation, weighed in once more.

"General, I'm not saying I disagree with you, but again I don't think you're looking at how this scandal will affect this administration."

"With all due respect, Miss Jones, I'm more concerned with the welfare of this republic than any single administration. The two should go hand in hand, but as you've so pa.s.sionately pointed out this morning, that's not always the case."

Jones glared at the general and said, "That was a cheap shot."

"No, it was a direct shot, but if I wasn't blunt enough for you, let me spell this entire cl.u.s.ter f.u.c.k out for you in clear English." The general leaned toward the chief of staff and said, "This was a big operation.

A lot of military and intelligence personnel knew about it beforehand, and since it went south a lot more people know about it today." Flood stuck out one of his beefy fingers with conviction and said, "I can guarantee you, if you try to whitewash this thing, someone in uniform, or over at Langley, is going to be so offended they will talk to a reporter off the record and they will set off a chain reaction that will do exactly what you're hoping to avoid. And that's if Mitch doesn't break the story first."

"You worry about your people, general," Jones shot back, "and I'll handle Rapp."

The sheer lunacy of the comment caused Flood to roar with laughter.

"You're going to tell Mitch Rapp what to do? Let me know when and where, and I'll pay top dollar to witness that fight."

Before Jones could speak again, the President came forward in his chair and rested his forearms on his desk.

"I've made a decision." He was talking to everyone, but was looking at Jones.

"We're going to confront this thing head-on, and it's not up for debate. If we try to bury it it'll only come back and bite us in the a.s.s. I want the Justice Department to prepare warrants for the arrest of a.s.sistant Secretary Petry and Amba.s.sador c.o.x."

Jones began shaking her head.

"Robert-" Before she could continue the President cut her off and said, "Valerie, cancel my dinner plans for this evening and inform the congressional leadership that I'd like to meet with them."

Jones had a pained expression on her face. The President's demeanor suggested that any further protests would be unwise. She'd lost this one for now, but there was always later. When she had him alone she would try to get him to rethink his decision before he jumped off the cliff.

With strained pleasantness Jones asked, "What would you like me to tell them?"

"Tell them I need to brief them on an issue of national security."

"I'll get to work on it right away." Before leaving she turned to Kennedy.

"You'll keep me informed of any decisions you reach with the DOJ and the FBI?"

Kennedy noticed it was more a demand than a question, but nonetheless nodded politely. Jones had been thoroughly defeated and there was no sense rubbing it in.

When the chief of staff was gone the President addressed Kennedy and Flood.

"I'm sorry about that. Politics comes first for Valerie. She can't help it."

Flood shook his oversize head and grumbled something. Kennedy watched the general with pursed lips and then added, "No need to apologize, sir. You need people who will watch out for the political ramifications."

"That's true," agreed the President, "but that doesn't mean we have to check our morals at the door." Hayes's face twisted into a disapproving frown.

"Valerie's tendency is to try to control everything. She doesn't understand that the American people will cut you a lot of slack as long as you're up front with them and they know you had the right intentions. In this situation it's pretty cut and dried."

Hayes laid his hands flat on his desk and moved several pieces of paper around while he pondered precisely how to proceed.

"I want to do the right thing here. I want to be up front on this, and I want to move very quickly. I don't want some hotshot reporter breaking this before we get out in front of it, otherwise I'm afraid Valerie will be proven right and I'll be crucified on the Hill."

"If I may, sir?" asked Kennedy. The President nodded and she said, "You might not want to wait for tonight. The general and I could begin briefing select members of the various committees this afternoon.

Then when you meet with them tonight, you can give them the entire story. I would caution you, though, that we need to keep General Moro and his involvement out of this."

The President's expression went from keen to confused.

"Why?"

Kennedy hesitated and then said, "Mitch has come up with a solution for dealing with the general. If you have time, I think we should get him back in here so he can explain it to you."