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Stansfield and Kennedy sat on the couch, and King stood in front of the fireplace next to his boss. Baxter leaned forward and folded his hands. “What would you like to talk to me about?”
“We think,” Stansfield started, “that we may have found a way to get someone into the White House undetected by the terrorists.”
“Really,” Baxter said, showing his interest by moving forward to the edge of the chair. “How?”
Stansfield looked to Kennedy, and she said, “There is a ventilation system-that circulates all of the air in the White House. The main intake and exhaust ducts are located on the roof, but there is a backup duct that leads from the basement of the White House to an area on the South Lawn.”
Baxter looked at Stansfield and said, “I’ve never noticed any ventilation ducts on the South Lawn.”
“Neither have I,” replied the director of the CIA. “They’re concealed with trees and bushes. We’ve done a reconnaissance of the area and feel we can get to it without the terrorists being alerted.”
“So what do you want to do?” asked King.
Kennedy remained focused on the vice president. “Before we can consider staging a rescue of the hostages, we must know what’s going on inside. Unless we get someone on the inside to coordinate an attack, our chances for success will be almost nothing.”
“So, we’re not talking about sending in a team of commandos.” Vice President Baxter squeezed his hands together. “I want to be very clear about that. Until we’re sure what he wants, I’m not going to rush into anything.”
“We only want to send in one person.” Kennedy spoke in a reassuring voice. She thought it would be best to leave Milt Adams out of the picture for now. “Once that person has given us a clear picture of what we’re up against, we will present you with a plan to retake the building by force.”
“If needed,” added King.
“If needed.” Kennedy glanced up at King and then back to the vice president.
King placed one hand on the mantel of the fireplace and the other on his hip. He had a feeling he knew whom the CIA would use to check out the building. “This person,” King started to ask, “would he by any chance be that Mr. Kruse fellow?”
Kennedy and Stansfield shared a look, and Kennedy replied, “Yes.”
“Well, that’s funny,” said King in an off voice, “because I did some checking on your Mr. Kruse, and I don’t think his dossier matches up with the man I met yesterday.”
“‘Mr. Kruse’ is an alias for the man you met,” Stansfield answered flatly.
“What’s his real name?” King asked.
“That’s classified.”
“Come now.” King smirked. “If we’re going to risk the lives of all of these hostages by sending your man in, I think at the bare minimum we should know who he is.”
Stansfield looked at King for a moment and then turned to the vice president. “There is no rational reason that I can think of for telling you his name.”
“I can,” answered King with confidence. “If we are going to stick our necks out, I want to know who this guy is and where he’s from.”
Secrecy was an issue Stansfield never budged on. Being a former field operative himself, he understood firsthand the perils of sharing information too freely. That, combined with the fact that King needed to be reminded of his station in life, caused the director to reply, “Mr. Kruse has been sent on highly delicate missions by three presidents, and not one of them ever knew his real identity. I am not about to tell the chief of staff for the vice president—who, I might remind everyone, has a penchant for talking to the press—the real identity of one of my top operatives.” Stansfield turned to Baxter and in the same even tone asked, “Mr. Vice President, maybe you and I should talk about this alone?”
Baxter looked at King sideways. The message was clear—get back in your cage and stay quiet. Turning his focus back to Stansfield, Baxter said, “I don’t need to know his real identity, Director Stansfield. I trust you. One thing, however, does concern me . . . this Mr. Kruse fellow seems to be a bit volatile. Possibly uncontrollable.”
“What are you basing that assumption on?”
“From what I saw firsthand at the Pentagon, yesterday.”
“What you’ve seen, sir,” answered Kennedy, “might lead you to believe he is uncontrollable, but in reality he is extremely reliable. He follows orders to a T, and, most important, he gets results.” Kennedy knew her words were slightly skewed, but she also knew there was no one better suited for the job than Mitch Rapp. “His only fault, which some would argue is why he is so good, is that he doesn’t tolerate mistakes or stupidity.” Kennedy stopped momentarily and then added, “In Attorney General Tutwiler’s case I think he proved to be correct.”
Vice President Baxter nodded soberly. “Yes, he did.”
“Mr. Vice President,” Stansfield interjected with finality. “Mr. Kruse is one of the best operatives I’ve ever seen . . . and you know how long I’ve been doing this.”
Baxter leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in front of his mouth. “Are there any legal issues to be concerned about?”
“Such as?”
