“What might not be such a good idea?” asked Harvath.

“The FBI trace on that phone call today locked up. We got a fix on the location of the caller, but God help us if this is wrong,” said the director.

“I don’t understand,” said Harvath.

The general took a deep breath. “Vice President Marshfield, in accordance with the United States’ position of no negotiating with terrorists, has green-lighted a Special Ops team to attempt a rescue. We’re on our way to the situation room at the White House. The mission will launch in less than two hours.”

“But they couldn’t have possibly gathered enough intel yet. They have no idea what that team will be walking into,” said Harvath.

“That’s exactly what we’re afraid of,” said the general, “aren’t we, Stan?”

30

The White House situation room buzzed with noise, most of which came from Vice President Marshfield’s chief of staff, Edward DaFina. The VP had wasted no time moving himself and his people into the power positions in the White House, and DaFina had bullied anyone who resisted or resented the changing of the guard. He was a perfect example of a man who sought power solely to lord it over others.

Because of his background and top secret clearance, Harvath had been invited to attend a comprehensive tactical briefing with the general. He spent two hours listening to the general and his staff discuss the makeup of the JSOC team and the reliability of their intelligence. The insertion and extraction methods were reviewed, and as the team would be supported by Israeli intelligence, the makeup and components on that end were gone over as well.

Several recent security and communications enhancements at the White House made it possible to use the situation room as a command-and-control center for the mission. Using the sit room, as it was known, meant that not only could the vice president preside at the head of the table in the high-backed leather chair reserved for the president, but all of the players would come to him. The idea of getting the Washington establishment used to seeing him in power greatly appealed to Marshfield’s ego, and so he was adamant that the main command center for observing the operation be the White House.

The directors of the FBI, CIA, and Secret Service had grudgingly agreed, only with the caveat that NSA and CIA headquarters be kept available on open lines. If the satellite picture went down, the consensus among those truly in the know was that the White House’s redundant backup systems were not entirely fail-safe and might not be something to count upon.

As Harvath entered the sit room behind General Venrick, he quickly glanced around, assessing those assembled. The aforementioned directors of the various agencies were present, accompanied by their aides. JSOC brass who hadn’t shuttled to the Mediterranean to be on-site were in attendance. Harvath was well acquainted with several of those present, and he nodded in their direction as he caught their eyes. There were also other military and governmental personnel present whom no one bothered to introduce.

Scanning the long cherry-wood table, Harvath saw Gary Lawlor and at first thought the comment that rang out from that end of the room had come from him.

“What the hell is he doing here?” asked the voice.

As Scot focused upon a group of people who were not seated, General Venrick said, “I believe Agent Harvath can be of service to us in this operation, and I have asked him to join us.”

“From what I hear, the only person Agent Harvath seems to be of service to is himself, that is, when he is not being of service to CNN. And he was considered such an impediment that our own deputy director of the FBI had to have him removed from the case.” The man stepped away from the group and leaned on the far end of the table. Scot could see him clearly now, Edward DaFina.

Director Jameson piped up before anyone had a chance to respond. It was obvious that there was no love lost between the two. “That is all still under investigation, DaFina, and you know it.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but the Secret Service did succeed in losing the president, didn’t it? I mean, that’s why we’re all here, right?”

Scot had never been one to let others fight his own battles. “Chief of Staff DaFina, I personally knew every single one of the Secret Service agents who died trying to protect the president and his daughter. As a matter of fact, from what I saw in Park City, had I not been retasked to Goldilocks’s detail, there’s probably no doubt she and I would be among the dead as well. So considering that you have absolutely zero idea of what the Secret Service has been through and what we go through on a daily basis, I suggest you get to the point. If you have one.”

Gary Lawlor shook his head and began to massage his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. He hadn’t been able to believe it when Harvath arrived with General Venrick and the Secret Service director. The kid had as many lives as a cat. Somehow, somewhere, someone had decided to cut him some more slack, but once again he was quickly hanging himself with it. Lawlor was still upset about what had transpired in Park City and was not going to stick his neck out to help defend the headstrong Secret Service agent anymore. Harvath was completely on his own as far as Lawlor was concerned.

“My point, Agent Harvath,” said DaFina, warming to the challenge, “is that you and your agency were charged with a task and you failed. Failed miserably, I might add. To compound the damage, you tampered with no less than three related crime scenes and, until I am convinced otherwise, leaked sensitive information to the press. That is my point.”

“This is a bunch of bullshit,” said the general. Anyone who had sheepishly been listening to the exchange, pretending not to hear it, now turned his or her eyes toward the man who had drawn himself to his full height. “None of this has any bearing on why we’re all here. We have asked Agent Harvath to come along because of his vast antiterrorist experience and in the hopes that as one of the sole survivors of the kidnapping, he might be able to help us shed more light on what we are facing and what we will do going forward.”

“‘Going forward’?” asked DaFina. “General, you don’t sound as if you believe this operation tonight will be successful. Why is that?”

“Why is that? It’s because we haven’t had sufficient time to gather the appropriate intelligence to mount an effective recovery.”

“General, when this whole thing blew, were you or were you not involved in our strategic assessment meeting?”

“I was, but-”

“General, you were the one person who advocated moving as fast as we could as soon as we had reliable information to act upon-”

“Mr. DaFina, that’s the last time you are going to interrupt me. As far as what I said, you seem to have ignored the fact that the word I used was reliable.”

Unfazed, DaFina continued, “General Venrick, I don’t know how much more specific you need your information to be. One of the kidnappers, a freelance Middle Eastern sniper who often worked for pro-Palestinian liberation groups, was found dead at the scene. We received proof that some organization does indeed have the president, and then they asked for the release of two Islamic terrorists with suspected FRC connections who are being held in this country. When their ransom demand was phoned into the FBI, we were able to pinpoint where it came from. What more do you need?”

“What more does he need?” interjected Harvath. “For starters, how about intelligence that the phone that was used is actually in the same location the president is being held?”

“Agent Harvath,” said DaFina, “I don’t really care for your opinion, but I’ll answer you anyway. The Israeli Mossad has assets throughout Lebanon and in particular the area we’re concentrating on. The Syrian government also has its sources-”