by Rawlin Cash
Hale understood his impatience. The address was all about perception. Being sworn in secretly while the elected president bled out, being whisked off to a secret lair deep in the forest, addressing the nation from an underground bunker, none of it sat well with the public. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel American.
Walker walked over to a large, oak shelf and opened a humidor. He picked out two cigars and cut them.
“What have you got for me on the assassination?” he said, offering Hale a cigar.
Hale took it and examined the label. He didn’t recognize it.
There was a big tabletop cigar lighter on the desk and Walker lit his.
“Did you bring these here?” Hale said, lighting his own cigar.
“No. They were here already. Apparently brought in by Reagan.”
Hale nodded. Cigars weren’t generally known for getting better with age but anything that had been in storage that long was worth tasting.
He puffed on it and let the smoke fill his mouth.
Walker sat down on the sofa and looked up at him.
“Let’s hear it, Hale. What are we looking at?”
“Sir, as you know, we took out a target minutes after the attack.”
“I felt the impact,” Walker said.
Hale nodded. “It was a drone targeted air strike authorized by President Jackson under executive decree. The order was issued from the control center in Langley.”
“It was just like taking out an insurgent in Iraq.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hale looked at Walker. He wasn’t sure if he’d known of the executive order until last night. He still needed to feel him out on it.
“It blew our only suspect to smithereens,” Walker said.
“Yes, sir.”
There was another moment of silence. Hale drew on the cigar and tried to read Walker.
Walker exhaled. “Relax, Hale,” he said. “I’m glad you did it. The nation needs to know that anyone who shoots the president will be destroyed immediately.”
“I’m glad you see it that way, sir.”
“But it does mean we can’t interrogate the man.”
“That’s true, sir. We’ve also concluded that the man we hit was not the shooter.”
Walker nodded. It was bad news but expected.
“Ballistic evidence?”
“We have the man on video at the moment the shot was fired. His hands are visible. He was looking at a certain section of the chamber floor.”
“The floor?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What section? Who was sitting in that section?”
“We’re not sure yet, sir. We’re looking into it.”
“Was anyone looking back at him?”
“We’re looking into that now, sir.”
Walker sucked on the cigar and blew a perfect ring of smoke.
“If this guy wasn’t the shooter, why did he flee?”
“Maybe he was a decoy. Maybe he panicked.”
“So the shooter’s still out there.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Fuck me.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hale took a deep draw from his cigar. He hated meetings like this. He hated being in a situation where he had to report that he had nothing to offer, no solution, no clue as to what had happened.
“If that runner wasn’t the shooter, where was the shot taken from?” Walker said.
“Possibly the floor, sir. We’re still looking at it. We don’t know.”
“It could have been someone from the media.”
“Whoever it was, we’ll find them.”
“Who knows the man we killed wasn’t the shooter?”
“So far, just my team, sir. But it will get out soon. There were enough television cameras in there for someone else to figure it out.”
“It would have been nice to be able to say to the country that the shooter is dead. I mean, that’s the fucking speech they’ve written for me.”
He held up some sheets of paper.
“I wouldn’t say that, sir. Maybe you could say the suspect is dead. It will buy us time.”
Walker nodded. “I’ll figure it out. Just find out who the fuck is behind this. What their objective is. If there’s some conspiracy, some power play, I need to fucking pin it down.”
“Absolutely, sir.”
“Get on it, and get me some answers.”
Hale took that as his cue to leave. He made for the door and as he reached it, there was a knock.
He opened the door and the secret service agent came in.
“Sir,” he said to the president. “Your wife has arrived.”
Sixteen
Hale sat by the fire and watched the cabinet members arrive one by one. Protocol meant no two members of the line of succession could be on the same helicopter. Each was escorted to the president’s office and afterwards joined Hale in the great hall.
“He really wants to make this address from the oval office,” Jennifer Blackmore said.
Hale had a decent working relationship with her. They didn’t see eye to eye on most things but she was a pragmatist. She was willing to bend a few principles here and there to get a deal done. Some of Jackson’s most successful legislative accomplishments had been possible because of the compromises she’d been willing to make.
She was someone Hale could understand, even when they disagreed. She was a politician. She played the same game he played, and by the same rules.
“Wouldn’t you?” Hale said.
“Yes, but it was practically all he talked about.”
“There’s no way he’s getting back into the White House in time,” Hale said.
“Have you seen the broadcast room here?” Jennifer said.
“I’ve seen it.”
“It’s kind of spartan.”
Hale nodded. It certainly didn’t carry the weight of the oval office.
“It’ll play okay on camera. It’s just him and a podium.”
“What do you think about the intruder last night? Think it was connected to the shooting?” she said.
Hale smiled. She knew he wouldn’t talk to her about something like that. Even if he knew anything.
“I really don’t know, Jennifer.”
“And I’m sure if you did, I’d be the first person you told.”
“Not without a subpoena,” he said.
“Or a congressional hearing,” she said.
Hale smiled. She was from the opposing party. Hale answered to the president. No one in congress would hear anything from him unless it was being circulated very widely.
“Jennifer,” he said, “if you were on my list, I’d notify you of anything I had in an instant.”
Jennifer smiled. “You’re very kind, Jeff, but we both know I won’t be on any of your lists any time soon.”
Ordinarily that was true, but these weren’t ordinary times. They were both thinking the same thing, though neither of them dared say it. As Speaker of the House, she was next in the presidential line of succession. If the worst were to happen and somehow someone got to Walker, she was next in line.
Hale couldn’t help himself.
“You never know,” he said.
She pretended she didn’t catch his meaning.
Hale was still smoking his cigar. He could tell the smoke was bothering her but he didn’t put it out. He’d been sitting there first.
Walker wasn’t good at hiding his disappointment about the location of the address and as the morning wore on, and Antosh and Goldwater joined them by the fire, it became clear he was fixating on it.
“He’s nervous,” Hale said. “I hope it doesn’t show.”
Jennifer nodded.
The president was getting some fresh air with his wife Nancy and their Scottish terrier. Hale could see them through the window.
The presidency would suit him, Hale thought. He looked presidential. He was tall, with good posture, broad shoulders, the rugged features and tanned face one wo
uld expect from the son of a Montana rancher.
An aide went up to him and handed him yet another draft of the address. He read it while his dog ran around his ankles.
Hale got up and walked to the other side of the fire to get a little privacy. He phoned Fawn.
“I thought I had the day off,” she said.
“You’re going to be cleared. I thought you’d want to know.”
“I shouldn’t have been suspended in the first place,” she said.
“You weren’t suspended. Anyway, it’s good news.”
“Yes,” she said curtly.
She was upset.
“Can you get down to the White House and find out what the hell is going on with the intruder?”
“Intruder? I haven’t heard anything.”
“There was an intruder during the night. He was killed by the secret service.”
“You think they’re after the vice president now?”
“I think maybe. I need you to find out.”
“Where are you?” she said.
“At the safe house. Walker will be doing the address from here.”
“If I’m cleared, why is my detail still outside?” Fawn said.
“I’ll get that dealt with.”
“Will they let me in to the White House?”
“I’ll deal with that too. Fitzpatrick is here.”
“Okay,” she said. He could hear the sound of her drawing from a cigarette.
“You’re smoking again, aren’t you?”
“I’m vaping.”
“No you’re not.”
“Goodbye, Hale,” she said.
She hung up and Hale poured himself a cup of coffee from a carafe by the bar. Then he went to Fitzpatrick and cleared his throat.
“What can I do for you?” Fitzpatrick said.
In another life, Hale and Fitzpatrick could have been good friends. They could have been two old men sitting in a park playing chess and swearing at each other. In their current roles, that wasn’t so far from the mark.
As the heads of two rival agencies, each set up purposefully to compete with the other, there was bound to be some tension. But they were good natured about it. While previous CIA directors had been extremely jealous of the NSA’s growing data analysis capabilities, by the time Hale became director, the NSA’s growth was less a challenge to the CIA and more an accepted fact. The NSA were the data crunchers. They gathered data and they analyzed it. They looked for statistical patterns.
This allowed the CIA to focus on the types of capabilities Hale was passionate about, and which he felt were more important. They could focus on human intel, direct operations, cultivating sources. The truth was, he didn’t want to be crunching data all day. He wanted to be running real operations on the ground.
In a perfect world, Hale would have brought the CIA back to its Cold War heyday, with agents sneaking across borders, meeting one another in dark alleys, stabbing each other in the back.
“I need Fawn cleared,” he said to Fitz.
Fitzpatrick nodded like it was still an open question.
“She’s got to get down to the White House. It’s no good for either of us if we have nothing to tell Walker.”
“I’ll do it, Hale. Hold your horses.”
“Okay,” Hale said. He wasn’t used to Fitzpatrick making life easy on him. “Thank you.”
“I might ask a little favor in return,” Fitzpatrick said.
“Quid pro quo, Fitz. That’s what makes the world go around.”
“Yes it is.”
Hale had his guard up. He didn’t know what Fitzpatrick was going to say, but he doubted it was going to be something good.
“What do need?” he said.
“We had a little visit from one of your operatives.”
“What do you mean?”
“Former operatives, I should say.”
In Hale’s line of work there were very few former operatives. There were very few former anything. Someone was either doing their job or they were dead.
“Tooth Fairy,” Hale said.
“The one and only.”
“What do you mean, you had a visit?”
“Mission Data Repository.”
Hale’s eyes widened. He maintained his composure. It was never a good idea to show surprise.
He’d seen the report on the breach. He hadn’t realized until now it was Hunter.
“Are you sure it was him?”
“Of course we’re sure.”
“Then he wanted you to know.”
“You overestimate him,” Fitzpatrick said.
“You believe that if you want,” Hale said. “But I trained him. If he walked into a facility like that, he wanted us to know it.”
“All the same, I’d like to know more.”
“Like what?”
“He took data. We don’t know what data.”
“How am I supposed to know?”
“The next day, he sent a secure data package to your little apprentice.”
“Fawn?”
“The one and only.”
“What was in it?”
“We don’t know. It was encrypted.”
“You can’t break the encryption?”
Fitzpatrick was irritated by the question. They both knew there had been a time when the NSA could decrypt any data on the planet at will. With the advances in civilian computing and security, those days were over.
“It would be easier if you just asked Fawn what it was.”
Hale was quiet. He was thinking. Fitzpatrick watched him. His mind was running at a million miles a second. Hunter was alone in his ability to rattle Hale. Hale had refrained from having him killed for one reason. He played it off that he’d kept Hunter in his back pocket as a secret weapon. There was some truth in that and it played well. It made him look cunning. It had secured him the directorship. But the real reason, even if it was almost subconscious, was that he was afraid of calling a hit on Hunter. Hunter had been built from the ground up to be lethal. The CIA had rewired him in a way never attempted before. And never since. Anyone trying to kill Hunter would only ever have one chance.
And there were always mistakes.
There was no bulletproof, sure-fire order Hale could make that would guarantee Hunter’s death. So he didn’t make one.
Hale wasn’t insane. He wasn’t reckless. He wasn’t keeping Hunter around because he liked him. It was because he was scared to make a move.
That meant there was going to be a reckoning. Sooner or later, he would have to face Hunter.
“You sly fuck,” Fitzpatrick said at last. “What are you scheming?”
“I’m not scheming anything.”
“You’re a million miles away.”
“I’ve got my own reasons to be worried about this, Fitz.”
“Well, are you going to ask Aspen what he sent her?”
“I’ll do you one better, Fitz. We’ll confront her together.”
“When?”
“As soon as we get out of here.”
Hale’s phone chimed. It was an update from Langley. He was about to read it when the president entered the room.
“People,” the president said, getting the attention of the room. “What the fuck is going on? We need to get off our asses. The nation needs to see action.”
Jennifer, Antosh and Goldwater were on their phones. Hale knew the president was right. They couldn’t afford to wait any longer. Time was ticking. Being at the safe house, out of touch with their departments, out of contact with their staffs, was making things worse. It was creating a power vacuum in the capital at a time when the nation and the government needed reassurance.
“Hale,” Walker said. “What is the latest status with the White House? I need to be there. This address has to take place from the oval office. We’re sending the wrong message if we broadcast from here.”
“Sir, the security.”
Walker cut him off before he finished his sentence.
“J
eff, you know me. You know I’ve bitten my tongue in the past. I’ve deferred to the president when I didn’t see eye to eye with him. I held my tongue when I had things to say. I kept quiet. And I did that because he was the president. He was the man on the throne. It was my job to shut up.”
“Yes, sir,” Hale said.
“Well,” Walker continued, “now, I’m on the throne. I’m top dog.”
Hale was surprised. He hadn’t known Walker had the balls to talk that way. “Yes, sir,” he said again, louder.
His phone started vibrating in his pocket and he knew it was important, it was something the president would want to hear, but he didn’t move his hand.
“I’ve been president over twelve hours now and I haven’t even set foot in the White House. I haven’t been in the capital since they whisked me away. This is no fucking way to run a country. Hiding. Waiting. Cowering like scared witnesses giving evidence against the mob.”
Hale would have pointed out that all those mob witnesses had good reason to be afraid. They all ended up dead.
“There’s still time to get to the White House before this address. Inform the secret service that we’re going back. It’s time we took this bull by the horn.”
Hale hated this.
He knew he wouldn’t be able to allow it. Walker would then blame him.
Hale would take the heat for the security precautions that were the joint policy of the CIA, the Secret Service and the military. It wasn’t Hale’s fault. It was Walker’s. If he wanted to leave the safe house, he could have done it by issuing an executive order. He was the one holding back. He was still just asking for permission. Hale knew if he was president, he’d already be back in Washington.
He couldn’t give the president what he wanted.
“Sir, I can tell you what’s holding us up. With the intrusion in the White House, we really can’t be sure you’re not the next target.”
“Fuck that,” Walker said. “Excuse my French, but fuck that Hale, and fuck you. The president of the United States is always someone’s target. Your job is to make it possible for me to do my job anyway.”
“We’ve been caught off guard, sir.”
“Well, bounce back.”
“Yes, sir,” Hale said.
“Good,” Walker said. He was about to leave when he stopped himself. “What are the rest of you looking at?”