“Sir, I’ve got my best people working on this, as does the Bureau.
It’s just a matter of time, really, but any adjustments that could be made to reduce the threat to your own security would be—”
“You want me to hide in a corner, is that it?”
Harper hesitated, unsure of the other man’s reaction. “As a precautionary measure, I believe—as does the director—that it would be a wise decision to cancel any high-profile events for the next couple of weeks. Especially those for which details have been released by the White House press secretary.”
“If I’m hearing you correctly, most of your argument stems from this man Kealey’s instincts. You must have a lot of faith in him.”
Harper leaned forward in his chair. He sensed defeat, but he wasn’t going down without a fight. “Sir, Ryan Kealey has risked his life several times in the past few weeks tracking down William Vanderveen.
I’ve known him for eight years, and I trust his judgment. It’s only because of Kealey and this other officer, Kharmai, that we can even put a name to the face. Believe me, I know we don’t have much right now, but we’re getting closer, and the threat is very real. Vanderveen has serious backing and financial support from Al-Qaeda, and there is solid evidence that the Iranians are involved as well. They have a clear motive here, sir. Kealey knows this man, and he’s our best chance at finding him. When you look at it that way, we’re not asking you for much. The reason for the change in schedule doesn’t even have to be released to the press.”
Brenneman nursed his coffee and stared out at the rain clouds moving over the gardens. It was several minutes before he spoke.
“John, I respect your judgment . . . I always have. Nothing you’ve said just now has disabused me of that notion. At the same time, I can’t afford to change my schedule without something more concrete. I’m not trying to prove anything; this isn’t about reckless brav-ery. I’m meeting with President Chirac and Prime Minister Berlusconi early next week. If we can come to some agreement for compensation of lost oil contracts, that meeting might very well result in the dismantling of Iran’s weapons program without one American soldier setting foot in the country.” There was a brief pause. “It’ll be historic, John, the best thing I’ve done in four years in office. I just won’t cancel that meeting without good cause.”
The president stood, signifying that the conversation was over.
Harper rose to his feet as well, and the two men looked at each other in silence as the rain streamed down the large windows beside them.
“I’m sorry you feel that way, sir, but I respect your decision.”
Brenneman reached out to firmly shake hands with his deputy director. He thought about the steel wires protruding from the torn remains of the Kennedy-Warren, and he remembered the mangled vehicles that had lined Independence Avenue less than a month earlier.
“I want you to find the bastard, John.” Brenneman’s voice was low, but the anger it held cut through his calm demeanor. “Find him and put him down.”
“You have my word on it, Mr. President.”
Chapter 24
ALEXANDRIA, VIRGINIA
It was early evening when Ryan finally pulled into the Alexandria Detention Center’s parking lot after having battled the reams of rush-hour traffic on I-95. He locked his car and walked toward the building’s entrance. Adam North was already there, waiting on the steps and smoking a cigarette. He smiled as Ryan approached, and the two men shook hands.
“It’s about damn time,” North said. “What happened?”
“The traffic around here is a killer. I don’t know how people put up with that every day.”
“Hey, the money’s in the city. People will suffer anything for a pay-check every couple of weeks. Listen, I have bad news.”
“Tell me.”
“Elgin’s found himself a lawyer, and he’s recanted on waiving his Miranda rights.”
Ryan closed his eyes and shook his head. “I should have seen this coming. Court-appointed, right?”
North took a final drag on his cigarette and flicked the butt into the gutter. “No, he’s actually managed to get somebody decent, probably on the smallest retainer possible. Elgin’s assets have been frozen, and I guarantee that his attorney isn’t aware of that little fact.”
The DEA agent paused and turned his face up to the dim light, breathing in the damp, heavy air. “The government’s moving fast on this one. He’s already been indicted, and the A.G. is seeking three Federal counts. Conspiracy to murder U.S. nationals tops the list.
Maybe if they weren’t in such a hurry . . . I don’t know. Doesn’t matter, anyway. He’ll never talk to you one-on-one now. You want to leave it, see if we can cut a deal?”
“We don’t have time for that. Besides, he had a knife to Naomi’s throat, Adam. He’ll give us the information, one way or another, and then he can rot in jail. What does the conspiracy charge carry, anyway? Twenty years? If he doesn’t feel like talking, he’ll be lucky to see day one of that sentence.”
With most people, Adam would have dismissed these words as an empty threat. Instead, he was immediately reminded of Elgin’s screams in the dark back room of the Waterfront Bar. “Where is she anyway?”
“Naomi? I told her it got pushed back a few days. I’m hoping that she doesn’t call me on it until then.”
A small smile replaced the bigger man’s uneasy expression. “I wouldn’t want to see her face when she finds out . . .”
Ryan caught the intentional change in subject and sensed North’s lingering apprehension. “Listen, you’ve seen this guy’s sheet, right?”
He received a hesitant nod in return. “Elgin raped a thirteen-year-old girl, okay? Not to mention that ninety-two people died at the Kennedy-Warren, and he could have stopped it. Think about that, Adam.
Ninety-two dead, hundreds of lives ruined, all so Elgin could clear . . .
what? A couple thousand dollars, maybe? He doesn’t deserve any sympathy, especially from us.”
They were asked to turn in their weapons. North obliged, handing over his Glock, but Kealey shook his head and held up empty hands. After they moved through a metal detector, North signed the register while Kealey looked on impassively. Ryan was required to show the deputy identification to get a temporary pass, but that was all. It was the one thing on which he had insisted, and Harper had come through for him; there would be no record of Ryan Kealey’s visit to the prison.
He wondered if Harper had already realized his mistake. For Kealey to be held responsible for any unfortunate incident that might befall Thomas Elgin, there would have to be an official record of his arrival at the detention center.
The interior of the structure was not at all what he had expected.
Most of the walls were painted powder blue, and the floors were covered by cheap government carpet, but carpet nonetheless. He thought that was an unusual thing to see in a prison. The most surprising thing, however, was the lack of noise. It took him a while to notice the absence of sound, if only because it was such an obvious disparity.
North noticed his confusion. “This is what they call a ‘New Generation’ prison. Everything is controlled from a single operations center, and the deputies move freely among the prisoners. Inmates who get loud or try to fight are removed immediately, and noise suppression was taken into account when they chose the building materials.”
“It seems like all that would be pretty expensive,” Ryan said.
“I guess the benefits outweigh the cost. Anyway, I don’t know what you know about the Bureau of Prisons, but Elgin has already been placed into the CIM system. I thought it would happen eventually, but—”
“Hold on, you’re going to have to explain that to me.”