“He is quite comfortable, I assure you.”

“How can we be sure?”

“Mr. Vice President, we have already proven that we have him and that we are capable of outthinking you and your military. The explosion was quite an unfortunate, but necessary occurrence. So many souls called to Allah, unwitting of the role they have played in the Jihad.”

“Is that what this is all about, some kind of holy war?”

“I commend you, Mr. Vice President. Your knowledge of foreign affairs is greater than your critics give you credit for.”

The insult raised the hairs on the back of the vice president’s neck. Inwardly, almost every member in the sit room would have congratulated the kidnapper for that jibe if he hadn’t been behind so much death and mayhem.

“You will not get away with this. I guarantee you,” said the vice president.

“But, I already have.”

“What do you want?”

“First, I want to be treated with some respect for my intelligence. Did you actually think I would not know when I called the FBI that they would start an immediate trace? Do you think after all of my careful planning I would allow this dance to be so quickly brought to an end? By underestimating me, you may be forced to pay the price twice.”

“Twice?” said the vice president. “What do you mean twice?”

“By now you should be very well aware that your men did not survive the explosion we set. That was the first price. If we were able to slay any of the Israeli pigs that might have been working with the U.S.A. in their feeble rescue attempt, then all the better. But, the second price will come if you do not cooperate. Evidence will be produced that will link this explosion back to you and the unrecognized State of Israel. It will be seen as an act of U.S.-supported Israeli terrorism against the Palestinian people.”

All eyes in the room were upon the vice president.

“Whatever evidence you might fabricate, it will never work.”

“Just as a plot to kidnap your president would never work? Tsk, tsk, Mr. Vice President. I believe you are still underestimating me.”

“You know, Mr… if it is Mr. I don’t even know your name,” said the vice president.

“My name is not important. What is important are my demands. I want my men released immediately.”

“It is the policy of the United States government not to negotiate with terrorists.”

“Is it really? Is this the same no-negotiation policy that was in effect during your arms for hostages fiasco with Iran?” asked the voice.

“That was then, and this is now. We absolutely do not negotiate with terrorists. The two men you want killed scores of innocent Americans.”

“In our opinion, Mr. Vice President, there is no such thing as an innocent American, and further, how many innocent people have been killed throughout the Middle East as a result of the meddling of the United States?”

Several people at the table were motioning for the vice president to shut up and discontinue his hard line with the kidnappers, but he ignored them.

“I’ll make you a deal,” said the vice president, pausing for effect.

“A deal? You are in no position to make demands of us! It is we who have your president, and it is we who will make the demands of you. As your show of good faith, you will release our men as we have requested and you will convince Egypt to unfreeze our assets. You will do this immediately!” said the voice, and then the line went dead.

Lawlor leaned over to his boss. “Hell of a negotiator. Where’d this asshole learn his technique?”

The FBI director didn’t answer. He knew everyone else in the room was thinking the exact same thing. The vice president was completely out of his league.

33

After the meeting in the sit room was adjourned, everyone quietly filed out, still in shock. They were horrified not only by the failure of Rapid Return and the loss of top-rate operatives, but also by the way the vice president had handled the kidnappers’ phone call.

Director Jameson gave Scot a subtle cue to hang back with him. In a few moments the only other people still sitting at the table were the directors of the FBI and CIA, along with Gary Lawlor.

“It looks like your instincts were right,” said the CIA director to Harvath.

“It didn’t do those men much good, though,” replied Scot.

“What could you have done?”

“I’ve asked myself that a million times. Not only about tonight, but Sunday too. These guys, whoever they are, really know what they’re doing.”

“What I want to know,” said Lawlor, “is how the hell they got my direct line as well as the president’s here in the sit room.”

As the lock on the soundproof door of the sit room clicked and was followed by the hiss of it swinging open, the men fell silent.

“Don’t you men have work to do?” asked Chief of Staff DaFina as he walked across the room to retrieve a file he had left on the table.

Vaile beat the others to the punch. “You know what, DaFina? What we’re doing and how we’re doing it is none of your goddamn business.”

Harvath was taken by surprise. Director Vaile had a reputation for being unfailingly diplomatic. Both DaFina and his boss, the vice president, rubbed even the calmest of people the wrong way.

“I’m sure the vice president wouldn’t see it that way,” replied a defensive DaFina.

DaFina was all hot air, a bully. The minute someone stood up to him, he hid behind the vice president’s skirts. Harvath let out an audible sigh of contempt, and DaFina turned on him.

“And you. I wasn’t finished with you, Harvath,” he said, turning his gaze toward Secret Service director Jameson and FBI deputy director Lawlor. “Is it or is it not true that Agent Harvath disrupted and possibly contaminated three separate crime scenes and assaulted a federal officer?”

For some reason, probably his intense dislike for the chief of staff, Lawlor changed his earlier stance and chose to come to Scot’s defense. “We’re looking into it.”

“Looking into it? From what I hear, it was you that had him recalled for it!” DaFina’s feigned anger was growing with each passing second, as was his satisfaction. He knew he had them on the ropes, and he grabbed at the opportunity to regain the control Vaile had taken from him. “Director Jameson, why hasn’t this man been placed on leave until a full-scale investigation can be conducted?”

“I have yet to fully debrief him. This is a Secret Service matter and will be handled as such. I hardly think we need the vice president’s chief of staff telling us how to do our jobs.”

“Well, obviously somebody should.”

“Just like somebody told you it was okay to answer the president’s secure line?” fired Harvath.

Embarrassed, but not letting on, DaFina continued. “Director Jameson, like it or not, Vice President Marshfield is in charge and may be for quite some time. If, and I stress the if, the president does not return safely, the vice president will finish out his term. I need not remind you that your position as director of the Secret Service has already been severely jeopardized. If, and I am stressing the if again, the president does not return to his office, you will retain your directorship only by the consent of Vice President Marshfield. Do I make myself clear?”

Jameson was up against it. As much as he hated to admit it, DaFina was right. Before he could respond, though, DaFina continued his attempt to roll over him. “I want this man,” he said, pointing at Harvath, “suspended immediately, pending a full investigation. I don’t want to see him near the White House or anywhere else for that matter. Am I clear?”

“I’ll take it under advisement. In the meantime, I want to make sure you are completely clear on something. Short of a horrific constitutional crisis that would put you in the Oval Office, I am still the director of the Secret Service. I don’t take orders from you. Got me?” asked Jameson.