by Lisa Harris
Nikki came around the side of her car and said, “She chose that book instead of a music video.”
“Smart girl,” I said, giving Nikki a kiss on the cheek.
“Are you going somewhere? I thought you were making dinner for us tonight.”
“I’m sorry. I won’t be able to do that now. I just got a call from Senator Mitchell about Ben. I have to fly to Washington tonight.”
“What’s happened to Ben?”
“The Senator wouldn’t tell me, but he sounded very worried.”
“I’m surprised he called you. Didn’t you tell me the two of you don’t get along that well?”
“That’s putting it mildly. When Senator Mitchell asked me to encourage Ben to take a desk job at the Agency, I lost my temper and walked out of his office. I doubt that’s ever happened to him before.”
“Did you yell at him?” Eleanor asked. “My daddy told me yelling at someone just makes things worse.”
I didn’t realize Eleanor was paying attention to our conversation, and I made a mental note to monitor what I said in front of her a little more closely in the future.
“No, I didn’t yell at him. Sometimes silence is as good as yelling.”
“Is that something I should remember?”
Nikki and I smiled at each other.
“Yes,” I said, “it’s definitely something you should remember.”
I needed to remember it too.
It was almost ten o’clock by the time Senator Mitchell’s driver picked me up at Dulles.
I was a little puzzled when he told me the Senator was waiting for me at The Federalist Club, a private social club for the movers and shakers in Washington located a few blocks from Capitol Hill.
Membership at the club was by invitation only and required a waiting period of six months while the applicant was being thoroughly vetted by a secret committee.
Although there was no way I would ever be a member of such an exclusive organization, I had recently been inside the building to attend the Capitol Hill Distinguished Service Award Gala in the ballroom of The Federalist Club as a guest of Senator Mitchell.
Ben had been able to wrangle the invitation out of his father when we were about to head off to Yemen together to search for Jacob Levin, a military scientist who’d gone missing in Iraq.
After learning Jacob’s brother, Congressman Daniel Levin, would be attending the gala, I asked Ben to get us the invitation, thinking we might be able to learn something from the congressman that would help us bring his brother home from Yemen.
Although I did get some information out of the congressman, it hadn’t been a fun evening.
The Award Gala was a social event. I wasn’t a sociable guy.
Enough said.
As I entered the lobby of The Federalist Club, I realized I was way underdressed for the place.
I was wearing a sports shirt and a pair of slacks, the same clothes I’d been wearing when the Senator called me earlier in the day. I hadn’t taken the time to change since I figured the Senator’s driver would be taking me directly to the hospital to see Ben.
Paying a visit to The Federalist Club—where formal business attire was always required—was the last thing I expected to happen.
Sticking out in a crowd made my skin crawl—a personality quirk I shared with other covert operatives—so the moment I entered the lobby I was determined to locate the Senator and get out of there as quickly as possible.
However, there was no sign of Senator Mitchell in the lobby, so I headed over to the main desk to have him paged.
The attendant at the desk gave me a disapproving look.
I wasn’t a bad-looking guy, so I attributed his frown to the way I was dressed, but before I could open my mouth and explain what I was doing at the club, I heard someone call my name.
“Titus Ray?”
When I glanced down at the end of the counter, I didn’t recognize the young man waving at me.
I nodded. “I’m Titus Ray.”
He walked over and shook my hand. “Hello, Mr. Ray. My name’s Howard. Would you follow me, sir? Senator Elijah Mitchell’s waiting for you in The Fairfield Room.”
Unlike me, Howard was wearing a suit. The gray pinstripe fit him so perfectly, I figured it was tailor-made just for him.
He looked down at the carry-on in my hand. “Could I check that at the desk for you, sir?”
“No, I’m good.”
“Of course.”
He immediately turned on his heel, and we proceeded down a hallway lined with portraits of the past presidents of The Federalist Club.
None of them looked familiar, except David Prescott.
Prescott had been in Kuwait as part of a congressional delegation when a terrorist tried to detonate his suicide belt in the hotel lobby. Fortunately, Simon Wassermann and I had been there to stop him.
When Howard opened the door to The Fairfield Room, Senator Mitchell was standing in front of the fireplace talking on his cell phone.
As we entered the room, I heard him say, “I’ll call you back. My appointment’s here.”
Evidently, I was an appointment.
I admit I was a little ticked off at the Senator for considering me just a time slot on his daily schedule, but I decided to let it pass.
Who knows what I’d say if my son were lying in a hospital bed?
The Senator gestured at Howard. “Howard, take Titus’s bag and check it at the front desk for him.”
I started to protest, but then I thought better of it and let Howard take the canvas carry-on from me.
Howard gave me a smile as if he’d won some kind of victory and walked out of the room.
Senator Mitchell was the Hollywood version of a senator, tall, reasonably handsome, in his early 60s, with graying temples in his coal black hair.
When he entered a room, all eyes turned in his direction.
When he spoke, his authoritarian voice garnered immediate attention, even if he was only telling someone to be seated.
“Have a seat, Titus,” he said, gesturing at a leather armchair in front of the fireplace. “I appreciate your coming to Washington on such short notice.”
“I was concerned about Ben,” I said, as I sat down.
“I’m concerned about him too.” He walked over to a matching chair a few feet away from me. “If I wasn’t concerned, I wouldn’t have asked you to come to Washington.”
“If Ben is in such bad shape, I’m surprised you didn’t have your driver take me directly to the hospital.”
“Oh, Ben’s not in the hospital,” he said, looking me straight in the eye. “I didn’t mean to give you the impression my son was having a health crisis.”
I felt anger welling up inside of me.
It was a familiar feeling.
A short fuse was something I had battled all my life.
Now, though, I was determined to keep it under control, so I breathed a short prayer.
“That was my impression, Senator, but I take responsibility for jumping to that conclusion. I shouldn’t have assumed that.”
I waited a beat or two to see if the Senator might acknowledge he was at least partially at fault for my misunderstanding, but he kept quiet.
“So tell me, Senator. What kind of crisis is Ben having?”
“He’s having a crisis of the heart.”
“A crisis of the heart?”
“Yes. Ben claims he’s fallen in love with—”
“Are you kidding me?” I said, jumping to my feet. “You had me get on a plane, leave my family behind, and fly to Washington because of Ben’s love life?”
Perhaps I should have breathed another short prayer, but in my way of thinking, there were times when a little anger was warranted.
This was most definitely one of those times.
The Senator appeared unfazed by my anger.
He motioned for me to sit down.
“Have a seat, Titus. What’s going on with Ben isn’t a frivolous thing. It’s a mat
ter of national security.”
I must have looked skeptical.
The Senator said, “I understand you might find that hard to believe, but hear me out before you decide to walk out on me.”
I sat down.
I heard him out.
Chapter Two
Since Senator Mitchell was head of the Senate Intelligence Committee, he was well-versed in matters of national security. As such, he received regular briefings on CIA, as well as FBI and Department of Homeland Security operations.
However, he didn’t know what he didn’t know.
What he didn’t know was that the briefings he received from the CIA’s Deputy Director of Operations, Robert Ira—better known as the DDO—only contained the bare bones of an operation; they didn’t give the full picture.
Whenever the DDO briefed senators, he always left out the pertinent details—details that fleshed out the main players in an operation and provided nuance to the protocols behind the missions.
Most CIA operatives weren’t aware of what the briefings contained because they were never allowed to see the briefing documents.
However, a few years ago, when I expressed concern about an asset being compromised if the DDO described the operation in detail to the committee, Carlton made a one-time exception and allowed me to read a transcript of the DDO’s briefing to the Senate Intelligence Committee on Operation Rising Tide.
After reading the transcript, I realized the DDO only gave the senators a brief thumbnail sketch of the mission.
I figured this was also true about other intelligence operations, so when Senator Mitchell said Ben’s love life was a matter of national security, I found his statement a little hard to believe.
After resuming my seat, I looked over at the Senator and said, “When Ben and I got back from Baghdad two weeks ago, the only thing he had on his mind was getting his leg back in shape.”
“So? How does that fit into our discussion?”
“The last thing Ben said to me before I left for Oklahoma was that he planned to spend all his time in rehab in order to be ready for our next assignment.”
“You’re right. He’s been spending a lot of time in rehab.”
I nodded. “That’s why I find it hard to believe he’s had time to fall in love with someone.”
The shadow of a smile flickered across the Senator’s face. “Well then, maybe you’ll believe me when I tell you he’s fallen in love with his physical therapist.”
I let out a short laugh. “I suppose I should have seen that coming, especially if he’s been spending a couple of hours a day with her for the past two weeks.”
“It’s been more like four hours a day.”
“Is that right? Well, no wonder he says he’s fallen in love with her.”
“What makes you say that?”
“As you know, Senator, I’ve worked with Ben for over a year now, and if there’s one thing I’ve noticed, it’s that he has a tendency to become romantically involved with any woman he spends time with. On a couple of occasions, if there’s been a female on our operational team, I’ve had to remind him to stay focused on our assignment.”
The Senator smiled. “Even though we’ve had our differences, Titus, I can’t ignore the fact you’ve become a mentor to my son. You may not believe me, but I’m grateful you’ve taken him under your wing.”
When Carlton told me I was acting like Ben’s mentor, I rejected that label. Now, for a variety of reasons, I decided to own it.
“The reason I’ve been willing to take on the role of Ben’s mentor is that I believe he’s an excellent covert operative. He’s good at what he does, Senator, and once he learns to keep his emotions under control, he’ll be an excellent intelligence officer.”
“We’ve had this discussion before, Titus, and I can honestly say I’ve resigned myself to the fact he’s going to make a career out of the CIA.”
“You’ve really changed your mind?”
He nodded. “When I saw how eager Ben was to take on a new assignment after you rescued him from that drug cartel in Cuba, I decided I wasn’t going to fight his career choice any longer.”
“Ben’s not a quitter; that’s for sure. Personally, I think you should be proud of him.”
“I am proud of him. I’m especially proud he’s serving his country, but that doesn’t mean I’m not also concerned about our national security.”
“Frankly, Senator, I have a feeling you’re overreacting if you think Ben’s relationship with his physical therapist is a threat to national security. That’s an unlikely scenario to me.”
“You may not feel that way when I tell you this woman’s name is Kamila Hanim, and although she’s a naturalized citizen now, she’s originally from Turkey.”
“Her last name rings a bell. She wouldn’t be related to Faraji Hanim, the Turkish cleric, would she?”
“Yes, Imam Faraji Hanim is her father.”
“Well then, Senator, I may have to agree with you.”
“I thought you might.”
“If Ben thinks he’s fallen in love with the daughter of the Imam, their relationship could be a problem.”
Although Faraji Hanim was a Turkish cleric, he lived outside of Great Falls, Virginia, scarcely thirty minutes from Washington, D.C.
Hanim had lived in the U.S. for the past twenty years, ever since he arrived for medical treatment and was told he’d be executed for treason if he ever returned to Turkey.
Recently, Imam Faraji Hanim had been in the news because the Turkish president had accused him of masterminding an attempted coup to overthrow his government, and he was demanding our President extradite the Imam to stand trial for his crimes.
Naturally, Imam Hanim was vehemently denying he had anything to do with the attempted coup, but some in the intelligence community weren’t all that sold on Hanim’s innocence in the matter.
I wasn’t sure what to believe.
Senator Mitchell said, “Ben’s relationship with Kamila Hanim is more than just a problem. It’s become a national security issue ever since I scheduled hearings in the Senate Intelligence Committee on the situation in Turkey, especially as it relates to Faraji Hanim.”
“When I said Ben’s relationship with the daughter of a Muslim cleric might be a problem, I was primarily referring to how it might affect his career. I don’t see how his relationship could affect your committee hearings or become a national security crisis.”
The Senator leaned forward in his chair and proceeded to explain his reasoning to me, tapping his right index finger on each finger of his left hand as he ticked off the points he was making.
“First of all, if the press finds out my son is dating the daughter of Faraji Hanim when I’m in charge of holding hearings on whether he was responsible for the unrest in Turkey, then I’ll be accused of showing bias. Secondly, when my committee is briefed on the FBI’s investigation into Hanim’s activities, it will include information on his family members and their activities. If my son’s name is introduced into the congressional record as someone who’s been spending a lot of time with Hanim’s daughter, then I could look very foolish.”
I was beginning to see a pattern in the Senator’s thought processes—every one of his concerns was centered around his own reputation.
“And thirdly,” he said, “I believe Kamila Hanim could be using Ben to gather information on me, information her father could use to influence the press during the hearings. Of course, I mean legislative information. They couldn’t accuse me of anything immoral.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Do you get it now, Titus? Do you see why Ben’s interest in this woman is a matter of national security?”
“You’ve made some valid points, Senator, but I’m curious why you decided to hold hearings on Hanim and the situation in Turkey in the first place. What do you expect to gain by the hearings?”
“I want the hearings to show how wrong Turkish president, Alihan Evren, is about Faraji Hanim, so he’ll tamp down his rheto
ric against the United States. Frankly, I’m worried about the threats President Evren is making against our U.S. air base at Incirlik.”
He had reason to be worried.
Incirlik Air Base in Adana, Turkey, was home to approximately fifty nuclear weapons, and if President Evren chose to do so, he could hold the weapons hostage, as well as our military personnel, until the U.S. agreed to his demands to hand over Imam Hanim.
“Surely you’ve spoken to Ben about your concerns.”
He straightened his back. “Of course, I’ve talked to Ben about the matter. He claims Kamila is completely independent from her father and doesn’t have any interest in what’s going on in Turkey. Ben said when he told Kamila his father was a senator, she didn’t believe him.”
I felt sure that was the case.
When I first met Ben Mitchell, I didn’t have any idea his father was a senator, much less the chairman of the Senate Intelligence Committee. Ben hadn’t mentioned it to me, and I was shocked when I heard it from another operative.
Granted, I figured Ben was from a wealthy family and probably went to an Ivy League school—even with his CIA training, he had difficulty hiding that kind of upbringing—but Ben definitely didn’t go around telling people his father was a U.S. Senator.
“Ben seems to think his mother and I would disapprove of Kamila because she’s not the daughter of one of our friends, and she received her degree from a state university, but that’s hardly the case. Marjorie and I wouldn’t hold that against her.”
Although the Senator sounded sincere, I didn’t believe him.
When I was introduced to Mrs. Mitchell, I immediately knew I wasn’t up to her social standards. She’d made that very clear to me.
“I’m sorry, Senator, but I’m not sure what you’re asking me to do about Ben and his relationship to Kamila Hanim.”
“I’m asking you to talk some sense into him.”
“Ben thinks I’m in Oklahoma spending time with my family, which is exactly where I should be right now. He knows there’s no reason for me to be here in Washington. If I showed up at his doorstep and told him I was just in the neighborhood, he wouldn’t believe me. On the other hand, I suppose I could always—”