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“You’re serious?” asked a suddenly eager president.

Kennedy found the question a little strange since she was not known for her sense of humor. “Yes, sir, the team split into two groups of two. One group went on to complete the primary mission while the other trailed the enemy column.”

Now on the edge of his seat, Hayes asked, “Do we know where they are?”

Smiling slightly, she answered, “We have eyes-on intelligence, sir. We know exactly where they are. GPS coordinates and all.”

Hayes stood abruptly. A day hadn’t passed in the last six months where he hadn’t thought of that poor family. “I want the National Security Council convened in the Situation Room in one hour.” Hayes checked his watch. “I’ll find an excuse to get over—” The president noticed Kennedy wincing slightly. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t think we should go into crisis mode just yet.”

Now the president was really confused. “Why not?”

“Mitch has requested that we keep this very low-key. He’s onboard the Belleau Wood right now doing a tactical assessment while our team is on the ground giving him a constant stream of intel on the target.”

“What exactly do you mean by low-key?” asked Hayes.

Kennedy hesitated and then asked, “Do you trust Mitch, sir?”

“Of course I do.”

“Well, he thinks that the Belleau Wood battle group has all the assets we need to pull off a successful hostage rescue, and in light of what happened the other night, he thinks it best not to get the entire national security apparatus involved.”

Hayes folded his arms across his chest and stared into space for a moment. It was obvious he was torn between his trust for Rapp and his natural instinct to manage the situation. “What type of timetable are we looking at?”

“The Philippines are fourteen hours ahead of us, sir. It’s tomorrow morning there.” Kennedy adjusted her glasses. “The earliest we’d launch a rescue operation is after sundown, which gives us at least eleven hours to prepare. Mitch is proposing that we give him the authority to put a plan together on-site, and then report to us tomorrow morning, our time, before we launch the rescue.”

Hayes thought about this for a moment and then turned to General Flood. “What do you think?”

The chairman of the Joint Chiefs looked at Kennedy. “What are we up against?”

“Enemy strength is estimated at sixty armed men … light machine guns mostly and a few RPGs.”

As a soldier who’d been in battle, Flood was not a fan of micromanaging situations from thousands of miles away. He thought about the assets available and said, “The Belleau Wood has more than enough muscle to handle the job, sir. She has a task unit onboard, along with a platoon of Force Reconnaissance marines, and there’s also an entire battalion of marines onboard for backup if things get hairy.”

Hayes shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “What’s your recommendation?”

Flood checked his watch. “I’d say let Mitch put a plan together. We can convene in the Situation Room in the morning and get a briefing before we give it a green light. Until then the best thing we can do is stay out of their way.”

The president stood in front of the fireplace considering the advice he’d just been given. He shifted his gaze to Kennedy. “Irene, I assume you agree?”

Kennedy’s predecessor had taught her many valuable lessons. One of the better ones was that men of power were best persuaded by their own words. “You’ve said it yourself before, sir. Mitch has a way of getting things done. I’d say the best person to handle this situation is right where we need him.”

Hayes agreed with a curt nod. “All right. Let’s plan on convening tomorrow morning. In the meantime I expect the two of you will monitor the situation closely.”

Both Kennedy and Flood said they would.

“Good.” Hayes nodded and then said, “All right, then, if you’ll excuse me, I need to pick up my date.”

33

Flood and Kenned

y took the elevator down to the first floor. For reasons of decorum and tone, more than for national security, a little subtlety was now called for. It was only one flight, but the stairs opened out onto the wide Cross Hall, where visitors were gathered waiting for the band to play “Hail to the Chief” and watch the president, the first lady and the Canadian prime minister and his wife descend the long staircase. The crowd that was assembled in the Cross Hall consisted of foreign ambassadors, press, dignitaries, senators, congressmen, two Supreme Court justices and a bevy of celebrities and wealthy contributors.

The sight of the director of the CIA and the chairman of the Joint Chiefs descending the stairs together would lead to endless speculation that a crisis was brewing.

Kennedy and General Flood stepped from the elevator and were guided through the velvet ropes that cordoned off one end of the hallway. They’d gone no more than fifteen feet through the well-dressed crowd when the general was snatched from Kennedy’s side by the majority leader of the Senate. Kennedy didn’t slow for a second, lest the senator pull her into the group and begin pumping her for information. In her mind a state dinner was not the place to discuss national security. She continued into the East Room in search of a drink. Now that she was at the party itself, she felt an urge to take the edge off.

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