“They’re more than just a think tank,” Kellerman said. “They have an outreach program that finds and nurtures gifted kids.”
“You’re going to spend your retirement traipsing around, interviewing college kids?” She sighed when Kellerman’s face fell. “That wasn’t how I meant for it to sound.”
“It’s what you meant,” Kellerman said. “My wife couldn’t have children. Did you know that?”
“No,” she said softly. “I didn’t.”
He smiled wistfully. “I thought it was my fault. Carol wouldn’t let it go. She finally found a specialist who tested her for everything. The problem… well, it doesn’t matter what the problem is. She can’t have children.”
“That’s no reason—”
“We thought about adopting,” Kellerman said, his voice barely audible. “She decided that adopting wasn’t the right choice for us.”
“You’re really going to let this go?”
“I’ll be able to help these kids,” he said. “Do you remember when we were their age? We thought we could take on the world.”
“I can’t let this go, Jim.”
“You must. It wouldn’t be obvious. They might leak information—”
“The best of the best have dug for dirt on me, and they’ve found nothing,” Barbara said. “I’m clean.”
“Yes,” Kellerman agreed. “You’re as clean as they come. But there’s always something. Some little thing you missed. Maybe a meal or a trip. Maybe your campaign took money from someone with a questionable background. Maybe you’ve had appointments with a male constituent, maybe appointments you wouldn’t want made public.”
The thought made her blood boil. “I’m willing to take whatever shit they throw my way.”
“Forget about the truth,” Kellerman said. “They could frame you, or even your staff. Your husband’s still in real estate? Commercial, isn’t it?”
She saw where the conversation was going. “He’s an honest businessman.”
“During the last election, your Republican challenger claimed otherwise.”
“It was all baseless accusations!”
“And how much did that cost you?” Kellerman asked. “Your husband almost went bankrupt, didn’t he?”
“He wouldn’t care. He’d want me to do the right thing.”
“Maybe so,” Kellerman admitted. “You’ve got six children, don’t you? How many grandchildren?”
“Fifteen.”
“They are pressure points, Barbara. They can go after all of them, and it won’t be like a campaign. Nothing will be off-limits. They’ll look into every nook and cranny. And if that fails… they might get rough.”
Her heart thudded in her chest. “I’m going to speak to the president.”
“You’re crazy.”
“I have a good relationship with him.”
He shook his head. “You’re going to speak to the very man who controls the people violating international law, not to mention the Constitution.”
“Are you suggesting that the president—?”
“The presidency changes a man,” Kellerman said. “They go in with lofty ideals, and then the reality sets in. I’ve given enough debriefings to know. If the president is really in charge of this group, then he knows what they do. Speak to him about this and you’ll…” He stood and walked around the table, took her hand, and squeezed gently. “It’s not worth it. Let it go. Please.”
Barbara stared out the window as Walter drove her back to her office. Jim Kellerman was one of the most by-the-book military men she had ever met. If he was frightened, she would be stupid to ignore that.
But.
It galled her. Her father had served in Korea, and her grandfather had served in World War II. She knew about honor and duty. As a senator, she took great interest in the military, volunteering for every fact-finding mission or outreach program.
After her second term, she had lobbied hard for a seat on the Select Committee on Foreign Intelligence. She found the work… disturbing.
Her first six months on the Committee had been a whirlwind of briefings. Nightmares began keeping her up at night. Her political opponents had had a field day with the dark bags under her eyes. She had even dozed off during a Senate vote.
Ambien had finally cured her insomnia, but she never got used to the briefings.
No matter what kinds of terrible things we approved, it was for legitimate reasons. With this group, there’s only one man, one single human being, with all his strengths and weaknesses.
“Walter?”
Brandow turned to look at her. “Senator? Are you… okay?”
“I need you to clear some time on my calendar.”
He turned back to the street. “How many hours? Two? Three?”
“I’m going to need a few days.”
He turned back to her, and she shouted, “Watch the road!”
He spun around and slammed on the brakes, narrowly avoiding a pedestrian slogging through the slush. “I’m sorry, Senator. It sounded like you said you’d need a few days.”
“At least two.”
“You have that meeting with—”
“Senator Grisom, I know.”
“It’s been on your calendar for two months,” Brandow said. “Grisom won’t be happy.”
“He’ll get over it.”
“What about your other meetings?”
She sighed. “Cancel them.”
“May I ask why?”
“I’m taking a trip.”
Brandow slowed and turned right into the parking garage. “I’ll see to it. Where are you going?”
“It’s personal.”
“You don’t need me to make arrangements?”
She thought about telling him. Walter was one of her oldest friends. Then she remembered Kellerman’s fear and paranoia.
It’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you.
“I’ll handle it myself.”
Fifty feet below the basement of the West Wing, Eric rode the electric tram from the Eisenhower Building to the president’s underground bunker. The president had requested the meeting, and Eric was sure the president was concerned about the hacker-released video.
Concerned isn’t strong enough. He sounded furious.
The president’s concerns were valid. The video was troubling. The OTM depended on complete secrecy. A video even hinting at their existence was disastrous.
He got out as the tram stopped and navigated through the armed checkpoint. He stopped at the bunker door and, after having his palms and retinas scanned, waited for the massive steel door to rumble open.
The president sat at the table inside, head bowed, talking to himself. He took the seat across from the former senator from Illinois, who now sported touches of gray in his close-cropped hair and wrinkles around his eyes. “Mr. President?”
The president glanced up and offered a wry smile. “Sorry, Mr. Wise. I was just replaying the conversation with the director of National Intelligence. He asked pointed questions.”
“I’m sure you answered correctly, Mr. President.”
The president leaned back in his chair. “Was this us? I told Kellerman it wasn’t.”
“Do you really want to know?”
The president’s face hardened. “For better or worse, I’m responsible.”
“Mr. President—”
“I allowed this to happen. Even the idea of the OTM turns my stomach.”
“If you feel that way,” Eric said, “you can disband us. That’s always been your prerogative.”
The room was silent for a moment. “No. As much as I hate it, we can’t afford a world without you. Tell me what happened.”
Eric nodded. “We had agents preparing to meet with Klaus Holzinger’s secretary. There are irregularities in the global oil market.”