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“Thank you, sir. I need your help on two things.”
“Anything.”
“First, I need confirmation from the morgue, soonest, of the ID of our people who were in the restaurant. Our best guess is six, and I’ll e-mail you the names.”
“Of course. I’ll call the ME myself.”
“The other thing is, the president is signing an executive order today to give the Agency the right to work domestically on terrorism cases. This will be the first one.”
“Can he do that?”
“Yes, but the order will expire with his presidency. He’s making an emergency request to the Intelligence Committee in the Senate for legislation modifying our charter to that effect.”
“You won’t hear any complaints from me about that,” the commissioner replied. “We can use all the help we can get. I can’t speak for the FBI.”
“I’ll ask the director to ask the president to call their director. Maybe they’ll take it better if the news comes down from the top.”
“Good idea. I don’t want to have to listen to their pissing and moaning.”
“One more thing, Commissioner: you’ve got to go public with the photograph of Jasmine Shazaz.”
“I agree,” he replied. “I’ll give the order to Public Affairs immediately, and the FBI can lump it.”
“Thank you, sir.” She hung up. Her computer chimed, signaling a priority e-mail, and she logged on. “This is going out to everybody in the New York office,” Kate wrote. “From now on, it’s the New York station.”
Holly read the following bulletin. “To the staff in New York: I know you’ve all lost friends today, and our hearts are with you. As the result of their sacrifice, the president of the United States has today signed an executive order allowing the Agency to operate domestically in terrorism cases, and he has requested that the Congress, on an emergency basis, authorize a change to our charter to that effect.
“Accordingly, the New York office is now the New York station, and Assistant Director Holly Barker is appointed station chief. I know you will all give her the help she needs.
“Finally, since I’ve ordered that no one leave the building for lunch, I have directed that a chef be hired and that the cafeteria be remodeled into a proper restaurant. I’ve asked that it be up and running in a week. In the meantime, bring good things to eat to work.” Signed, Katharine Rule, Director.
“Station chief,” Holly said aloud to herself. “I don’t believe it.”
Holly left the office at eight o’clock, to meet Stone at P.J. Clarke’s. By the time she got there the usual crowd at the bar had subsided, and Stone was leaning against it with a drink in his hand. He signaled the bartender for one more.
“I saw everything on New York One,” he said, referring to the local cable news channel. “I’m sorry about the loss of your people.”
Holly took a deep draft of her drink. “It’s the worst working day of my life,” she said. “I knew a couple of them, though not well. Tomorrow I have to write letters to their families, and I’m not looking forward to that.”
“It’s Jasmine?”
Holly nodded. “I damn near had her in my sights this afternoon, but she got away.”
“That’s rough. I hope you get her next time.”
Holly tossed off her drink and set down the empty glass. “I missed lunch. Can we sit down?”
“Sure.” Stone put money on the bar and led her to the back room, where a table was waiting. They ordered steaks immediately.
“Stone, a couple of other things happened today,” she said.
“I heard on the news about the president’s executive order.”
“And as a result, the office here has been made a full-fledged station, and I’m the new station chief.”
“So you’ll be staying on in New York?”
“For the time being, until we’re back on our feet and Jasmine has been dealt with. I think I should move to my apartment. I mean, it’s just sitting there, I might as well get some use out of it.”
