Hellerman stared at Matt a minute and said, “Yes, we’re about to get an agent in. Canada doesn’t want us making a mess up there, but they also don’t want to get involved.”
“Screw a bunch of Canadians. Anybody I know?”
“There aren’t many you don’t know, but you know I can’t answer that, Matt.”
“Right. So what am I doing here?”
“I want you to head down to Joint Special Forces Command at Fort Bragg and talk to some of the special ops command down there. You’ll be a presidential envoy. You know all those guys anyway,” Hellerman said.
“Presidential envoy?” Matt chuckled. “I’ll get laughed out of there. Now, maybe if I’m part of a take-down team… they’ll believe that.”
Matt’s thoughts trailed off as his mind reeled with the possibilities. As an operator in the most elite counterterrorist outfit in the CIA, he was already visualizing the enemy situation. Then, as it always did, his mind spun back to that day in December 2001 when he had had his sniper rifle, his target in his sights, his team, and about a thousand airplanes overhead, all wanting to drop a bomb on bin Laden and claim victory, backing him up. But before he could pull the trigger on a clear shot, they shut him down. “Kill chain denied. Say again, kill chain denied. Return to base.”
Matt looked at Hellerman, letting his thoughts play out on his face.
“I know what you’re thinking, Matt, but I’m one of the good guys here. And I’m bringing you in on this thing to get you back into the action. That’s what you want, right? While you can’t go on the eventual raid, you can work with me on this thing in my command post. Advise me.
“Anyway, with your injuries you’d be no good to anyone. Plus, the president would have my ass if I sent you on a tactical mission when he wants you preparing for this job advising the director.”
“I’d prefer to go after Ballantine.” Matt’s voice was stone cold.
“I’ve talked to the president and Director Houghton already, and they both want you on this mission,” Hellerman continued.
Matt waited a moment with his eyes fixed on the vice president, then spoke. “I’m an operator, sir. That’s what I do.”
“I know you’re an operator. Hell, the entire world knows you’re an operator, and that’s part of the problem. Everyone knows you. Anyway, you’ll be representing the president. The Department of Homeland Security is barely even an agency; it’s just some people looking for office space. You know how to wade into the middle of chaos and sort it out.”
“That I do,” Matt said. “What do you want me to talk to them about?”
Matt had never turned down an interesting assignment in his life, and now was not the time to start. If terrorists were coming after the country again, he wanted in on the hunt. He had made his case, so now he would just see where the situation led him.
Hellerman smiled. “Look at their plan. It’s called Maple Thunder. Then see what they’ve got on the missing Predators while you’re at it.”
Matt stared at Hellerman, wondering why there was so much interest in the Predators all of a sudden.
Ignoring his thought, Matt said, “Right. So my mission is to get down to Bragg and be a spy for you. Is that it?”
“Exactly. Here’s a satellite phone. Keep in touch. I’ll be at Middleburg, which, of course, is top secret. And tell Peyton everything you know about those Predators, too. That’s at least as important as Ballantine.” Hellerman handed Matt a small, black object, and Matt promptly put in his shirt pocket.
“One thing,” Matt said, returning to his personal albatross.
“What’s that?”
“No Rolling Stones. No Fox and Diamond-type antics. No bullshit, right?”
“We’ve cleaned that mess up, Matt,” Hellerman said. “President Davis understands your sacrifice and appreciates your service.”
“Then why does Stone still have a job as secretary of defense?” Matt’s voice was like granite. “And where the hell is Lantini? You telling me you guys can’t find a former CIA director?”
“I’ve got nothing to do with Lantini, Matt. Get over yourself. We’ve got a war going on in Iraq. We need as little turbulence as possible after last year’s nightmare in the Philippines, so the president decided to keep Stone in place, keep the momentum going.”
Matt looked at Hellerman and then Meredith.
“I made a promise to Stone,” Matt said, “that if he ever came after me because of what I know, I would know about it. And then I would execute what I believe you people term ‘preemptive actions.’ I know you and Stone are close, but I need you to look me in the eye, with Meredith as our witness, and swear to me that this is a legitimate mission, directed by the president of the United States.”
Matt kept his cold gaze locked onto Hellerman’s gray eyes, which never fluttered.
“I know you’re not making a threat against the secretary of defense, which would be illegal, so I’ll ignore that last comment about ‘preemptive actions.’”
Matt shrugged and ran his hand along his blazer, beneath which his Glock was holstered.
“This is legit, Matt. We’re trying to get you back in the game. This is the first step,” Hellerman said. “Trust me.”
“You had me until you said, ‘Trust me.’ I don’t trust many these days,” Matt said, his eyes shifting to Meredith, who looked away. “Produce Lantini, Ronnie Wood, for me, and then maybe we can build some trust.”
Hellerman stared at Matt a moment and said, “I don’t think we’ll be seeing anymore of Ronnie Wood or the Rolling Stones. Only a select few know about that, so let’s just leave it be.”
Matt shook his head, then looked at Meredith. There was something about her countenance that rang hollow, sort of a vacuous gaze.
“Then don’t trust me. Trust your instincts. I’m giving you a jet to fly to Fort Bragg. You can’t be in Iraq right now, where all of the action is, and I know it’s killing you.”
That much was true, Matt thought, returning to Hellerman.
“Okay. If you’re getting me back into the game, then I’m game.” Matt said.
“Good,” Hellerman said, leaning back, shaking his head, as if to move on to other pressing issues. “Maybe one day this country will wake up,” Hellerman added under his breath as Matt was opening the door.
Matt stopped and looked over his shoulder at him, catching the sour look on the vice president’s face. What is he talking about?
“Excuse me, sir?”
Hellerman looked at Matt. “Just talking to myself. Damn people in this country are so complacent. Take everything for granted. Not even two years removed from Nine-eleven, and we’re back to our old ways — political infighting, stupid debates about the Iraq war — and everyone’s so consumed with themselves. No sacrifice, except the military.” Hellerman stopped a moment and then looked at Matt.
“You know, the other day I was at Fort Bragg talking to a soldier who told me, ‘Sir, the military’s at war; the country’s at the mall.’ Pretty insightful.”
Matt shrugged. Privates usually had a pretty good perspective on life, he thought. Rang true. Still, he kept his mouth shut as he watched the smoke clear off the vice president for a moment and then turned toward the Gulfstream.
“You ever read Rostow?” Hellerman’s question caught Matt off guard.
“Maybe once,” Matt said, lifting his duffel bag, and looking over his shoulder.
“Think about the term secular spiritual stagnation. Then we’ll talk.”
Matt nodded, barely interested, then leaned back into the Suburban and said to Meredith, “Nice to see you. You look good.” It was all he could allow himself.