Fifty-Eight

Rapp marched down the hall and seriously considered walking right out the door and never looking back. People who didn't share his commitment were one thing, but actually getting in his way was another. Before he could decide, Kennedy caught up.

"You said what needed to be said."

Rapp shook his head and kept moving. "I'm getting sick of this bullshit, Irene."

"I know you are, but hang in there." In a quieter voice she added, "He needs to hear you. Don't back down."

Surprised, Rapp turned his head and stared at her. Kennedy usually told him to keep his mouth shut. They turned into the Oval Office and a moment later were joined by the president and Jones. The four of them faced one another in front of the president's desk.

Jones started to speak and the president held up his hand and stopped her cold. It was obvious he was trying to remain calm. "This is the White House. I need levelheaded advisors, and I will tolerate nothing less."

Rapp was beyond caring. He was incensed at the lunacy of such decisions in the face of something so serious. "Levelheaded," he repeated. "Okay, how about this for a levelheaded assessment?" He took in a deep breath and then in a very calm voice said, "The next time a group of Islamic radical fundamentalists try to blow up Washington, D.C., you might want to consult your entire national security team, including the director of the CIA, and place a little less emphasis on the advice you receive from your attorney general, who by the way is looking to make a name for himself so he can be your running mate in the upcoming election."

Hayes's fair complexion had grown flushed. "You are on thin ice, Mister."

"Oh...I forgot one other thing. You should also place a little less emphasis on what your chief of staff tells you since she doesn't have the slightest idea what she's talking about when it comes to terrorism."

Hayes's face was now beet red. "Mitch, I have a lot of respect for you, but I'm getting sick and tired of you walking around here like you're the only person who cares...the only person who's contributed."

Rapp's anger reached a steady boil. Barely able to conceal his fury he kept his eyes locked on the president and said, "The next time you compare the contributions I've made in the fight against terrorism to that of your political appointees, you won't have to worry about firing me."

"Everybody contributes in their own way. Just because they aren't out in the field doesn't mean they aren't as committed to the war on terror just as much as you." Hayes pointed his finger at Rapp. "You need to start respecting other people's opinions, and realize you're not the only one with the answers."

Rapp didn't wonder for even a second if he was in the wrong. He had his faults, and he was more than aware of them, but what he had just heard from the president was absolute unadulterated bullshit. "Mr. President, you sit here in this vacuum with all of these sycophants and so-called experts running around advising you, but have you stopped to realize that you came within a whisker of being incinerated by a nuclear bomb?"

"Of course I have."

"Mr. President, there are a lot of things that I don't tell you about. Stuff that you're better off not knowing, but maybe now's a good time to give a you a glimpse into what it takes to win this war. Do you have any idea how we found out that the nuclear material was on the ship headed for Charleston?"

Hayes shook his head.

"We pulled five prisoners out of that village in Pakistan, sir, and none of them were willing to talk. I lined them all up, and started with a man named Ali Saed al-Houri. I put a gun to his head, and when he refused to answer my questions I blew his brains out, Mr. President. I executed the bastard, and I didn't feel an ounce of shame or guilt. I thought of the innocent men and women who were forced to jump out of the burning World Trade Center, and I pulled the trigger. I moved on to the next terrorist and blew his brains out too, and then the third guy in line started singing like a bird. That's how we found out about the bomb, sir. That's what it takes to win this war on terror. So don't lecture me about commitment because I doubt anyone else on your national security staff would have pulled that trigger, and don't ever forget that if I hadn't, we wouldn't even have the luxury of this argument. That is for certain."

Fifty-Nine

ATLANTA

It was midmorning by the time they reached the construction site. Al-Yamani drove past the entrance twice before turning in. He even stopped once and scanned the sky to make sure there were no helicopters following him. He had very bad memories when it came to helicopters. They reminded him of the early years in Afghanistan when the Soviets had dominated the battlefield with their lethal flying machines. Al-Yamani loved the bitter irony that it was the Americans with their shoulder-launched Stinger missiles who had helped them to beat the godless communists. To al-Yamani it was further proof that Allah was on their side.

When they pulled into the clearing, the sun was already peeking over the tops of the easternmost stand of tall Georgia pines. Al-Yamani got out of the car wearing a cheap pair of sunglasses that he had bought to help shield his increasingly sensitive eyes.

Two men came out of the construction trailer with broad grins on their faces.

Al-Yamani took this as a good sign. He quietly embraced each of them, relieved beyond measure that they had made it. He pointed to the trailer and all four of them went inside where they could talk more freely.

"Imtaz," al-Yamani said, as he took off his sunglasses. "This is Khaled and Hasan."

The three men exchanged greetings. Al-Yamani had thought of his two old friends often since he last saw them in Cuba almost a week ago. He was relieved that they had avoided detection by the Americans.

"Have our shipments arrived?" al-Yamani asked.

Hasan, the taller and older of the two men answered. "Yes, the main component arrived yesterday."

"Take me to it. I wish to see it."

All four men went outside. Hasan led them to the back of a pickup truck and lowered the tailgate. A wooden crate approximately three feet square sat in the middle of the coated bed. Hasan climbed up and offered a hand to his weakened friend. He then pried the top off the crate with a crowbar and unpacked a balled-up canvas tarp. The two men stood there for a moment looking at the object of destruction that they had worked so hard to acquire. Basking in the warm sun they looked up at one another and shared a smile. They were about to do something great.

Zubair, standing on the ground below them, was like a child trying to see what the grownups were looking at. His contribution to the project had been to design the fire sets and help shape the explosive charges. For security reasons he had been kept at a separate location from the nuclear material, and had yet to lay eyes on it. Unable to hold back any longer he climbed up into the truck bed and looked into the crate.

What he saw horrified him. Zubair had expected to see a shiny, stable core of nuclear material in a properly shielded case, but was instead greeted with the sight of a corroded hunk of metal the size of a basketball. His eyes opened wide with fear, and he jumped from the back of the truck, almost spraining his ankle in the process.

Zubair scurried to his feet and ran back toward the construction trailer, leaving the other three men staring after him in surprise. "You need to get away from that object right now." Without the proper equipment, Zubair had no idea just how hot the nuclear material was, but he guessed it was extremely dangerous.

Al-Yamani glared at the cowardly Pakistani. He was just like the other three. The Saudi had recruited all of the scientists and killed each of them as soon as he had completed his task. He had hoped this one would show a little more bravery in the face of such magnificence, but it appeared he was as weak as the others.