“I want to thank both of you for coming all the way down here today from Connecticut.” The president pulled the jacket he was wearing tighter around his thick sweater as he glanced out the window behind the desk into the cold, gray afternoon. “I know this is a sad day for you two. For me, too,” he added. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Bill nodded solemnly as he and Troy eased into the two chairs positioned in front of the big desk. “Thank you, Mr. President.”
“It was Jack who called Rex Stein on the platform in Los Angeles. That’s why Rex ran to me at the podium. Jack called him just in the nick of time.” The president glanced from the window to Troy. “Right?”
Troy nodded. “And if it weren’t for Jack, that LNG tanker would have made it all the way to Virginia. And I mean all the way to the beach.”
“So many people would have died,” Dorn murmured, looking past Troy.
“Including a lot of military personnel at our naval base there,” Bill said.
“Rex and Jack are heroes.” Dorn pointed at Troy. “You are, too, son.”
“Thank you, sir, but I—”
“I should have been better to Rex,” Dorn said. “He was right all along about me needing to be more careful, but I ignored him. I should have given him more credit. If I had, he might still be alive. I’ll have to deal with that for a long time.”
Troy glanced at Baxter, who didn’t seem swayed at all by the emotion in Dorn’s voice. He was picking at his fingernails and didn’t seem at all interested in his boss’s sentiment.
The president grimaced. “I learned a great lesson.” He held up a hand. “I’m not trying to say I’m turning into Ronald Reagan, George W. Bush, or Attila the Hun. But maybe there’s more of a place for Red Cell Seven in our intelligence structure than I thought. In fact, maybe it should be one of the cornerstones from now on.” Dorn took a deep breath. “Jack was an inspiration for me in terms of changing my thinking on that.”
“And with all due respect, sir,” Troy spoke up, “the ironic part about what you just said is that Jack might have been even more liberal than you.”
“You’re the hawk,” the president spoke up, nodding at Troy. “Don’t think I didn’t spot that salute to the arrows.”
“Of course I am.” Troy had thought the president was looking at Baxter when he’d saluted the arrows. “You know that.” He glanced at Baxter. Dorn had mentioned Red Cell Seven by name a few moments ago. He wasn’t supposed to have told Baxter anything about the files Bill had given him. But he must have broken that promise. “And you know why, Mr. President.”
“Yes, I—”
“Jack wasn’t actually your son, was he, Bill?”
Troy’s eyes raced back to Baxter. It was the first time Baxter had spoken, other than to greet them. In his peripheral vision, Troy saw his father’s posture go defensive.
“What are you talking about?” Bill asked. “He was absolutely my son. He is my son.”
“He wasn’t your natural son,” Baxter went on. “He wasn’t your blood. See, that’s what I’m getting at.” The chief of staff gestured at Troy. “Not like Troy is. Jack was your wife’s natural son, but not yours.”
“No. He wasn’t,” Bill agreed tersely.
“And what ever happened to Rita Hayes?” Baxter continued. “She was your executive assistant at First Manhattan for so many years. Why’d she quit so suddenly, and where did she go? No one can seem to find—”
“What’s your point, Stewart?” Troy interrupted. When they’d shaken hands, Baxter hadn’t reacted well to a man thirty years his junior addressing him by his first name. So Troy did it again, this time loudly.
“Yes, Stewart,” President Dorn echoed. “What is your point?”
“We did background checks on you two before you came down here today,” Baxter answered, as though none of this should be a big deal and he didn’t see why everyone was getting so irritated. “Thoroughly, I might add.” He shrugged. “I’m just making certain we’re all on the same page, okay?”
“Okay,” Bill snapped. “Let’s do that. Let’s make certain we’re all on exactly the same page.” He gestured at the president. “Sir, Mr. Baxter should not be in here while we discuss Red Cell Seven. And this is nothing personal. This is not because of what he just said.”
“I’m the president’s chief of staff,” Baxter countered, glaring at Bill. “I’ll stay in here if I choose to. And in this case, I do. In fact, it’s critical that I stay, given the subject matter.”
“Then Troy and I are leaving, Mr. President,” Bill stated, starting to rise from his chair. “I will not discuss this topic in front of anyone but you, sir. It’s that simple.”
“No, no,” Dorn spoke up quickly. “Sit down. Please, Bill.” He glanced at Baxter. “I’m sorry, Stewart, but you’ll have to leave.”
“What?”
“I have to trust Bill on this.”
Baxter clenched his jaw as he stared back at the president. Finally he stood up and stalked across the carpet.
When he reached the door, he turned back and pointed at Troy. “Don’t let these cowboys put on their Red Cell Seven Stetsons any time they want to, Mr. President. Rope them in, like you were going to before you were shot. We can’t allow RCS to keep operating without putting some significant constraints on it. If we don’t, these guys will get this country in a lot of trouble.”
“Those people are idiots,” Kaashif said. “They couldn’t interrogate their way out of a paper bag.”
“Don’t be so sure,” the man driving the pickup truck warned.
“One of them was so stupid he used a real name during my interrogation.”
“How do you know?”
Kaashif rubbed his stomach. It was bothering him a little. “The other one became very angry when the name was spoken.”
“What was the name? Do you remember?”
“Uh, I think it was Major Trav.”
“That sounds like a partial.”
“Perhaps.”
“Could it have been Travers?”
Kaashif shrugged. “It could have been.”
“Think back. It’s important that you—”
“They have too many rules,” Kaashif interrupted, “too many regulations. They have chains of command and due process. They think their Constitution is so grand and so much better than the founding principles of all other societies. They think it makes them invincible.” He laughed confidently. “But what they think makes them so strong is precisely what makes them weak. They cannot react quickly because of their rules and regulations. They cannot be agile like we can, because their Constitution weighs them down. In time it will pull them all the way down. It will be their undoing.”
“Careful. Don’t be arrogant. That’s when we find trouble.”
Kaashif scoffed as the pickup truck moved through the cold, gray dusk settling down onto Philadelphia. “They thought I was actually scared.” He sneered. “I am never scared.”
“Did you tell them anything?” the driver asked. At thirty-four, he was ten years older than Kaashif. “Anything at all?”
Kaashif smirked. “I told them only that I will need to make up my high school calculus test. Which, I guess, I will have to do.” He rolled his eyes. “What a joke. I could take that test in my sleep and get one hundred percent.”
“You will definitely make up the calculus test.”
“Whatever.”
“Do you think he believed you were in high school?”
Kaashif chuckled caustically. “I am in high school.”
“Do you think he believed you were seventeen?”
“Absolutely.”
The driver pursed his lips as he checked his mirrors. He wasn’t as confident that things had gone smoothly in the interrogation. He had extensive experience with U.S. intel, and he knew how good they were. And he’d heard of a man named Wilson Travers who could supposedly see into the future. But if Travers was the interrogator and he could see into the future, why would he have allowed Kaashif to go free? It didn’t make sense. The driver checked his mirrors again worriedly. Still, he saw nothing.