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“How many?”
“Sixteen of them, sir.”
“Sixteen?” asked an incredulous president.
“I’m afraid so.”
“Why so many?”
“I have absolutely no idea.”
“Have you asked him?”
Kennedy considered the question. “No I haven’t, sir. I wanted to discuss it with you first.”
“Well, by all means”—Hayes gestured to the bulky secure phone on his desk—“get him on the phone.”
“Sir,” cautioned the director of the CIA. “I’d like to do a little more digging before we confront him.”
Hayes was not in a patient mood. “The Palestinian ambassador to the UN is going to address the assembly this afternoon and demand that the UN make a full inquiry into this mess. The Saudi ambassador called me this morning to protest the slaughter of hundreds of innocent civilians.” Hayes shook his fist in anger. “This thing is not simply going to go away. I can get our ambassador to delay a vote by the Security Council until the end of the week, but we will not be able to put it off indefinitely. I need real answers, and I need to know what in the hell the Israelis are up to. I also need to know what our allies know. If we know they’re lying, there’s a good chance a few other countries know it too.”
“I’ll get started on it right away, sir.”
“And Freidman,” snarled the president. “I want him to either start playing by the rules he agreed to, or we will terminate our arrangement and he can kiss his ass good-bye.”
Kennedy nodded and told herself now was not the time to disagree with the president. The entire relationship with Freidman was fraught with potential disaster. The president could call up the Israeli prime minister and demand that Freidman be removed from his position as director general of Mossad, but even with the evidence they had, it might not work. Ben Freidman had files on everybody. She had a sneaking suspicion that if Freidman was ever really backed into a corner he would use those files to take down anyone and everyone. There wasn’t a thing that he wouldn’t rationalize if it was done to help preserve either himself or his country.
In a confident voice, Kennedy told her boss, “We’ll find out what really happened over there, sir.”
“Good.” Only slightly satisfied, the president turned to Rapp. “And, Mitch, I want you to take a very personal interest in this thing. You know a side of Freidman that no one else at Langley does. I want to know why he’s lying to us, and I want to know what you think we should do about it.”
“Yes, sir.” Rapp had a few ideas, but they would take some looking into. In the meantime he was betting on his initial suspicion. Ben Freidman had only one master, his country, and no matter how closely they held his feet to the fire, he would never betray Israel.
48
The National Security Council was one of those Washington terms that encompassed many things. In its truest sense the Council was made up of the president and a handful of very senior advisors. In a broader sense it represented an entire staff that coordinated the flow of intelligence between various agencies and departments under the executive branch and the White House. One such group within that staff was the Counterterrorism Support Group. As their name indicated they were charged with handling all issues involving terrorism, such as the kidnapping of the Anderson family by Abu Sayyaf.
Due to the leaks that occurred at the State Department during the initial hostage rescue, the Counterterrorism Support Group had been left out of the loop during the second and successful hostage rescue. This intentional breach of procedure was missed by no one. In a town where being in the know was the ultimate sign of power, there were a lot of bruised egos. The rumors had been fast and furious as to why, and through a few well-designed leaks, all were led to believe that their exclusion was due to a power play by none other than Mitch Rapp.
These leaks, and his reputation in general, were the cause of the icy reception that awaited Mitch Rapp when he entered the National Security Council conference room on the fourth floor of the Old Executive Office Building across the street from the West Wing. The attendees, over a dozen of them, all stopped what they were doing and looked up at the unannounced visitor. The Department of Defense, the FBI, the CIA, the State Department and Homeland Security were all represented. These were people just two rungs from the top. They carried great responsibility, they worked tirelessly and they received very little public recognition. Of the people in the room, only Jake Turbes from the CIA knew Rapp.
They all knew of him, to be sure, but not a one of them had ever said more than hello to him. Some of them respected him, a few despised him, mostly due to the embarrassment they were now forced to endure, but to a one, they all feared him. Here in their midst was a cold-blooded killer, who had dealt with the national security issues they wrestled with every day, in a much more real and final way.
He was a man who came to meetings unannounced and rarely spoke. He was a man who
had the president’s ear, respect and gratitude. He was a man who each feared could end any of their careers if he so chose. So when he entered the long narrow room all of the attendees squirmed a bit, and to make matters worse, instead of taking a seat at the table, he remained standing.
Rapp positioned himself in such a way that he could observe Assistant Secretary of State Amanda Petry. Of all the attendees only two, besides Rapp, had any idea what was in store. Jake Turbes of the CIA and Don Keane of the FBI were both in the know. Rapp kept himself from making eye contact with them and instead looked to Patty Hadley, the deputy national security advisor. He nodded for her to continue with the meeting.
She smiled a bit awkwardly and said, “Well, you’re just the man we were looking for.” Her comment was followed by some uncomfortable laughter.
Rapp allowed a wry smile to form on his lips. His problem was not with Hadley. “Fire away.”
“We’re all trying to figure out why we were kept in the dark on this one.”
Rapp directed his response to Hadley. “A decision was made to keep this operation as close to the vest as possible.”
She listened to the answer and then after a moment asked, “Why?”
