Moments later, the door swung open and the two arrivals were hustled inside.
Jason March waited, his back aching in the uncomfortable wooden chair. The past few days had been tedious: nonstop travel under assumed identities, the constant fear of discovery, the constant apprehension. Only now was it coming to a peak; he felt as though he was about to be tested, and his answers would determine not only his place within the organization, but whether he would leave this building alive or not. Through his supreme confidence, March retained a measure of caution. He had come too far to throw it all away now.
Low voices outside the door announced his visitors before they pushed into the room. Hamza entered, quickly followed by a surprisingly tall, gaunt individual whom March recognized immediately. The man had made few changes to his appearance despite the leaflets dropped by army helicopters that offered a reward in excess of 25
million dollars for his apprehension.
Saif al-Adel cursorily examined the person who had abruptly stood upon his entrance into the room. He was instantly suspicious, as the man’s appearance seemed to embody Western decadence in its entirety. The eyes, on the other hand, told a different story altogether, the hatred visible deep within the vivid green irises. It was this hate he wanted to explore. Soon he would have the answers he needed to proceed.
Chapter 6
WASHINGTON, D.C. • CAPE ELIZABETH
It had taken all her powers of persuasion, but Naomi Kharmai was finally able to liberate the personnel file from Jonathan Harper’s protective care. It lay closed before her now, although she had already examined it thoroughly. Naomi sipped at her tea in the deserted café as she recounted the information she had learned about Ryan Thomas Kealey. He was thirty-three years old, the last three of which had been spent in the Central Intelligence Agency as part of the Special Activities Division. Within those three years, the file confirmed that he had been awarded the Intelligence Star for courageous action in the field.
She considered this award for some time. Although the circumstances that had resulted in the conferrence of the medal were sealed, Naomi recognized immediately that Kealey must carry a fair degree of influence within the Agency as a result of his actions. She had noticed earlier, with some surprise, that he was on a first-name basis with Deputy Director Harper. Perhaps this also explained why Ryan was not attached to the CTC; certainly, they would have eagerly recruited him given the opportunity.
The file also recorded his activities before joining the Agency.
Kealey had left the U.S. Army as a major in 2001 under pressure from Special Forces Command. Naomi took that to mean the Joint Chiefs of Staff, whose approval would have been needed in order to indict a soldier with Ryan Kealey’s background. The 201 military record cited numerous awards: the Distinguished Service Cross, the Legion of Merit with one Oak Leaf Cluster, the Bronze Star with two Oak Leaf Clusters—the list went on and on. Kharmai knew little about military decorations, but was aware that this man would be held in high es-teem by anyone wearing the uniform.
Naomi could see that he was educated as well, holding a bachelor’s of science in business administration from the University of Chicago. His graduate degree had been awarded by Duke University in 1994. By that time, Kealey was already a first lieutenant fresh out of Special Forces Assessment and Selection, soon to be followed by successful completion of the Q course at Fort Bragg.
Unbelievable, she thought. He had achieved the rank of major in eight years, and that time included two years attached to another unit, the 1st SFOD-D, which she did not recognize. That was phenomenal advancement. The man was obviously being groomed for high command. She wondered what Ryan Kealey could have done to derail such a successful career.
She had a sudden insight and flipped open the file to the last page, looking for the signatory: MG Peter Hale, USASFC. With or without Harper’s authority, Naomi Kharmai decided she would find a way to talk with Kealey’s last commanding officer.
It was fast approaching dark when Ryan finally returned to Cape Elizabeth two days later. There was little reason to wait around in Washington while the analysts did their work, so Harper had given him a brief reprieve. Katie had not answered her phone for the duration of the trip, so he couldn’t help but feel slightly apprehensive when he saw her little car parked outside the house.
The interior was almost as cold as the air outside. He went directly into the living room, where he proceeded to carefully stack wood in the immense stone fireplace. It wasn’t long before the fire began to spread a pleasant warmth throughout the house. He turned to find Katie leaning against the doorjamb wearing tight jeans, a loose woolen sweater, and a look of consternation. She was watching him quietly. It seemed to Ryan that the temperature of the room had suddenly dropped again. Judging from the scowl on her face, he wasn’t about to receive a warm welcome home.
“Hey,” he said, after a brief, awkward silence. “I missed you.”
“I can tell, the way you rushed in here to talk to me.”
He lifted his hands in a gesture of exasperation. “I called you. It was a last-minute thing. Why didn’t you answer?”
She was momentarily caught off guard. That’s a good question, she thought. “You know why! I can’t believe you just took off like that. It’s . . . I don’t know, it’s like you forgot I was even here.”
A look of pain came over his face. “Katie, you know that’s not true. And it’s not fair.”
“Did you lie to me?”
“About what?”
The scowl became a skeptical glare. Clearly she wasn’t buying it.
“About leaving, Ryan. Did you really retire last year?”
“Of course I did.” Her arms were crossed, her expression doubtful. “Katie, I would never mislead you like that.”
She looked into his face for a long moment, gauging his sincerity.
“If you left the Agency,” she said slowly, “why were you in such a hurry to get back to Washington?”
It was a fair question to which he didn’t have an answer. She had won a small victory, but it didn’t register in her unhappy features.
When she spoke again, it was clear from her tone of voice that she was already tired of arguing.
“You know, I’m scared to ask where I rank in all of this. Is it below the CIA? Below a bunch of crazy terrorists in some shitty third-world country?”
“It’s not a question of rank, Katie.”
She smiled sadly and lowered her glistening eyes. “That’s a terrible answer, Ryan.”
He dropped his own head and silently cursed himself for the stupid remark. God, he had never been good at this kind of thing. It had cost him more than one good relationship over the years. It had never bothered him much before, but Katie meant more to him than the rest of them combined, and his chest tightened when he suddenly realized that he might be losing her. When she finally filled the silence, he was surprised by the intensity of the relief that he felt.
“Look, I know what you do is important,” she said in a small voice.
“I would never say otherwise. I don’t try to make you talk about it—
that can be separate from us. I’m not sure if I can deal with that yet, but I’m willing to try.”
She looked up at him hopefully. “That’s the important thing, right? That we’re both here and willing. I just want to know where I stand in this thing we have going. Where we stand.”