“Ebola?” the Israeli asked.
“Same family, worse disease. Much worse. It has a dramatically reduced incubation period — we’re talking days, not weeks — and it has allegedly been modified so that it transmits easily from human to human through the air.”
“That’s not modification, it’s weaponization. When did you discover this?”
“Only in the last several days. I just got back from Africa this morning.”
“Does your President know?”
“We’re not at liberty to discuss what the President knows or doesn’t know,” Carlton interjected.
Mordechai raised his hands in mock surrender. “All I’m trying to say is that if this is the event Damien and his Plenary Panel have planned, it’s going to be aimed at Israel too. We need to get our governments working together.”
“Agreed, but there’s another problem,” said Harvath. “Last night, Damien held a gathering at his estate.”
“I know,” Mordechai responded. “Helena sent me a report. It was something associated with his philanthropy. Some sort of charity board meeting.”
Harvath looked back over at Ryan and the Old Man. When they nodded, he pulled up several images on his laptop and turned it so the Israeli could see.
“These are the vehicles that were parked in the driveway last night,” he said. “And these are their owners.”
“You had a drone overhead?”
Harvath nodded.
“Ironic,” replied Mordechai.
“Why?”
“Because when Israel asks for your help, Mr. Damien’s civil liberties are sacrosanct, but as soon as you suspect something is up, drones get launched. But I suppose to truly be ironic, your drone would have to have been christened Liberty, or something like that. Was it?”
Harvath bristled at the remark, as did Ryan. But before either of them could respond, Carlton jumped in. “Don’t be an asshole, Mordechai. Israel has withheld information, slow-walked investigations, and refused to cooperate with us on numerous occasions, and you know it. Let’s not pretend you guys are coming to this with your virginity intact.”
It took a moment, but the man conceded the point. “Fair enough,” he said.
“Good,” Carlton replied. “Now, with the I-told-you-so’s out of the way, do you recognize any of the people who were at Damien’s last night?”
Mordechai pulled his chair closer and scrutinized the images. “No. Should I?”
“Not unless you like watching paint dry.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s an American expression.”
“I know what it means,” Mordechai stated. “How does it apply here?”
Harvath pointed to each one on his screen. “They all work for the government. Department of Health and Human Services, Department of Transportation, Department of the Treasury, Federal Communications Commission, Office of Personnel Management, United States Agency for International Development, Department of Justice, Department of State, and last but not least, the Department of Homeland Security.
“Each one of them is mid- to upper-level management in their agencies. Even with a million-dollar prize, you’d be hard-pressed to find more than a handful of people in the entire country who could name any of them.”
“In all fairness,” Mordechai replied, “even with a million dollars, you’d be hard-pressed to find many Americans who can even name your Vice President.”
He was right. Next to the self-preservation instinct of Washington’s political establishment, that was one of Harvath’s biggest hot-button issues.
American citizenship was an honor and a responsibility. Americans were stewards of their republic. The politicians weren’t in charge, the citizens were. Yet there were Americans who not only didn’t know a thing about how the government functioned, but there were staggering numbers who didn’t even bother to vote.
Harvath had long since made peace with the fact that many of the people he risked everything to protect were self-absorbed and disengaged. There was no other way to put it. He wasn’t a believer in political correctness. If you didn’t know who the Vice President of the United States was, you weren’t a “low-information voter,” you were a moron. Worse than that, you were lazy.
He didn’t expect the average citizen to know the head of every agency, but the second most important government official in the United States? That was by no means too much to ask.
While facts, in Harvath’s opinion, rather than emotion, bore out which political ideas were healthiest for the country, he didn’t begrudge anyone the right to vote for the candidate they believed was best for office. His only desire was for people to do their homework, develop an understanding of the issues, and marry that up to who and what they were voting for. In his heart, he knew every American was capable of leaping over that low bar. The fact that so many were unwilling, though, troubled him.
“So what’s the connection? Why were they all there?” Mordechai asked, bringing Harvath’s mind back to the matter at hand.
It was a question he had asked himself repeatedly since Nicholas had fast-forwarded through the drone footage before he and Ryan had raced off to Dulles to interdict Mordechai.
“We have run them through every database, and we can’t find anything,” said Harvath. “They all work for the U.S. Government, but we can’t establish any ties between them, much less to Damien.”
“He’s one of the wealthiest men on the planet,” Ryan added. “Everyone wants access to him. People want access to his money, to his power. Yet, one of the first things he does upon returning to the United States is invite this group of faceless bureaucrats to his estate. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Maybe that’s why he returned to the U.S.,” said Mordechai.
“To meet with them?”
The Israeli nodded.
“Why?”
“Well, if you can’t find something they all have in common, some philanthropic activity he was helping them with, then we have to assume that he needs something from them.”
Harvath was skeptical. “Like what?”
Mordechai shrugged. “I don’t know. If we throw African Hemorrhagic Fever into the mix, does it make the relationships more clear?”
“Department of Health and Human Services and Homeland Security? Sure. But an illness like that could conceivably impact every government agency. I can’t say any one of them is necessarily special.”
“But those two you just mentioned would be very involved with an outbreak of any sort, true?”
“So would the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and the Federal Emergency Management Agency.”
“Both of which,” Ryan clarified, “are actually under Health and Human Services and DHS.”
Mordechai looked at Harvath and raised an eyebrow.
“That still doesn’t tell us why they were there,” Harvath asserted. “They’re not agency heads. They’re management. They have limited power.”
“I don’t know about that,” the Old Man intoned. “Hell hath no fury like a bureaucrat scorned.”
“We’re not talking about rejecting tax-exempt applications or overpaying for lavish conferences in Vegas,” Harvath insisted. “We’re talking about the subversion of the United States.”
“You don’t think they’re connected?”
“You do?”
“I believe power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely,” Carlton replied. “At this point in history, there’s no greater power than that of the American bureaucrat.”
“That doesn’t mean they’re actively trying to subvert the country,” said Harvath, stunned he had been forced to take their side.