"Okay, look," he said. "I've made it something of a virtue in this job not to question the judgment of people in the field. I didn't like it when politicians used to do it to me, and I don't intend to start doing it to anybody else. Agent Monroe, you know best how to do your job, so I will leave you to do it. It will be difficult enough as it is. I acknowledge your point that taking out Baumer's leadership group should go a long way toward reducing our casualties. But do bear in mind that it would be of enormous value to us if we could talk to this character, whether he's their emir or sheikh or whatever he's calling himself or whether he's just middle management. Because if he is, snuffing him out might well end this fight, but there will be another one in the future. You mark my words."
The woman disappeared again inside a brief wash of static and white noise. When she reemerged, she was nodding. "… do what I can, sir."
"We are all doing what we can, Agent Monroe," Kip said. "I thank you for your efforts. I know they have taken you away from your family at a difficult time, and I know what you're doing is very dangerous."
She looked as though she was about to say something, but the screen went black and a single electronic tone replaced the audio feed.
"Looks like we lost her," Jed said.
Kipper leaned back from the screen over which he'd been hunched without realizing it. He let go a long, ragged breath.
"Jesus, Jed, where the fuck did she come from? And what the hell is she doing chasing after this guy when she has a personal involvement?"
The White House chief of staff pushed his chair back from the table. He seemed entirely nonplussed by the exchange with Agent Monroe. "She's here because she has a personal investment, Mister President. Agent Monroe is not supposed to be out in the field anymore."
Kip stood just as Colonel Ralls opened the door to their small, enclosed hot box and relayed the apologies of the tech guys for losing the link. He waved away any concerns. Broken communications links were an unfortunate reality nowadays.
"You have an update from Governors Island on the supply situation, sir," Ralls said.
"Thanks, Mike. Just give us a moment, would you?"
His military aide backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. Kip wished he'd left it open. Even the brief draft of slightly less stale air from the big combat information center outside had been refreshing.
"You were impressed with Agent Monroe, Jed," Kipper said. "I suppose she appeals to your Machiavellian side. And before you answer, just know that I am deeply unhappy to find out we ever had assassins on our payroll, let alone that we are still employing them."
Culver broke the seal on a new bottle of water and sipped before he replied, "Well, technically, she works for the Brits now. Her file has her on attachment to them as a consultant since 2003. She transferred from U.S. line management after her mission in Paris went south."
Kip deployed one of his darkest, most skeptical glares to let his chief of staff know he was not impressed with the rhetorical footwork. It only seemed to inspire Culver to come right back at him.
"Okay. Am I impressed with her? Yes, dammit. I am. I didn't have a lot of time to read the deep background on the woman. London only told us about her mission, which was effectively freelance, about two hours ago. But yes, what little I've been able to find out about her does impress me. For one thing, she came this close to nailing the rat bastard who's been giving us so much grief on Manhattan and who, I might point out, came very close to taking your life and mine, before going on to cause us thousands of casualties. Frankly, Kip, if I knew we had the option of turning someone like her on this fucking tinpot mad mullah and saving ourselves all of the blood and sadness we've had to suck up the last few days, I would not have hesitated to recommend doing so."
Kip knew that Culver was getting deadly serious whenever he dropped the honorifics. He was tempted to launch into a little speech about how his administration could not sanction murder, but it felt hollow with so many lives already lost in New York. Unlike Jed, he could not find it within himself to admire somebody who made her living from killing in the shadows. He had to acknowledge that Monroe had done them a great service in confirming the theory that the recently arrived jihadi fighters were playing an entirely different game from that of the pirate gangs scavenging the eastern seaboard. But he just could not see himself allowing any government of which he was the leader to remain in the business of state-sponsored murder. And that was what Monroe was. Not a soldier. Not like Mike Ralls or Colonel Kinninmore or that poor, poor woman he had visited in the hospital. She was a publicly funded serial killer.
"For now, I am willing to let her out on a long leash," said Kip. "But don't get any ideas about coming back to me in the future with plans to bring Agent Monroe home so you can call on her services for any other outstanding issues. And you know what I'm talking about, who I'm talking about."
Culver shook his head. "Caitlin Monroe was very happily settled down on her farm in Wiltshire before Bilal Baumer tried to reach out and fuck with her. She could have come home, but she didn't. I think she understood she wouldn't be welcome."
Kipper began moving toward the door, steering his chief of staff toward the exit with him. He couldn't fail to recognize the tone of disapproval in Culver's voice, just as he noted that Jed had not answered him directly, deftly sidestepping the issue of Agent Monroe's future. "I am sorry, Mister President," General Franks said on the screen back in the main room of the improvised combat center. "We do have stockpiles of weapons, but they're dispersed all over the country, often in places we haven't even surveyed yet. Funding for those survey teams is tight at the best of times, which draws out our lead time to exploit and recover ordnance, weapons, parts, and the like from any given site."
Kipper rubbed the palms of his hands deep into his eye sockets. Painkillers had no effect on his headache, which had started well before he spoke to Caitlin Monroe and now gripped his head like an iron glove. His stomach quivered as the room threatened to begin spinning around him.
"Everyone assured me that we had more than enough firepower," he said. "Not enough men but plenty of firepower."
"On paper we do, Mister President," Franks said.
"On paper doesn't count, General. On paper. In our dreams. Somewhere in never-never land. It's all bullshit," Kip said, raising his voice as his anger got away from him.
"What's done is done," Culver said off to his side. "What's your read of the situation in New York, General Franks? What do we need to do now?"
"The blocking force is in place in Upper Manhattan," Franks explained. "Even if the assault force in Lower Manhattan is unable to reach all of their final objectives, we should still see appreciable results from the second phase."
"What's the problem with your assault force, General?" Kipper asked. "Is it that they don't have enough ammo or support or whatever?"
Franks shook his head. "No, sir, or not entirely, no. We have significant elements of the First Cavalry and Schimmel's militia held up with resistance in the New York Public Library. Found a real nest of vipers in there, Mister President. Hundreds of them. So our advance there is behind schedule. First Infantry's two brigade combat teams are continuing to push up the West Side, with lead elements entering the Javits Convention Center an hour ago. The expected resistance along that axis has melted away. The Serbs and Russians are smarter than the average pirate, I guess. They saw us coming and just bugged out. Advance teams from Marine Regimental Combat Team One are securing the west end of Manhattan from the convention center to the Metropolitan Opera House. Lastly, we did manage to effect a resupply of the firebases on Governors Island," said Franks. "If the Marines continue to move east toward Broadway, I think we can relieve pressure on 1/7 Cavalry and make up for lost time."