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“How did you find out about the meeting?”
“We had a source.”
“Who?” asked Kennedy in a casual tone.
“Someone who was working for us.”
Kennedy looked at the president for a second. “Who was the source?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Ben, we’re on the same side on this. Trust me. I need you to tell me who your source was.”
Freidman was reluctant and then said, “A Palestinian.”
“Was he on your payroll?”
“No.”
“Did you recruit him, or did he come to you?”
“A little bit of both, I suppose.”
Kennedy had no idea whether or not this source of Freidman’s was an important piece of the puzzle, but intuition and experience told her to dig deeper. “Ben, if you want me to convince the president to back off, I need you to send Jake Turbes everything you have on this Palestinian, and I need it immediately.” For good measure she decided to add, “The president is meeting with the secretary of state right now. They are discussing how to bring the Hebron evidence in front of the UN.”
Freidman tried to figure out what Kennedy was after. His Palestinian informant was dead along with all the other terrorists. He saw no harm in sending her the encrypted files on him, but instinct told him there was more going on here than he was aware of. One thing he did know, however, was that a great deal of damage would be done if the UN was told the truth about Hebron. After thinking about it for a good ten seconds, and seeing no better alternative, he ag
reed to send the information.
73
It wasn’t easy, but Rapp waited until their man had boarded the plane. He owed both Bourne and Dumond for not bolting on him and setting off the alarms that would have led to a three-ring circus at Baltimore Washington International. To stop the flight and detain their John Doe would have meant alerting the airline, the control tower, the airport police, the FBI and God only knew who else. The odds were very high that someone on that long list would call the media and alert them to something strange at BWI.
Any one of the twenty-four-hour news outlets or all of them were likely to show up and shoot footage of the inevitable FBI SWAT team in full gear hauling a man in a business suit off an international flight. It was no criticism of the FBI. They had their job and Rapp had his. It was just that Rapp’s job was always done best when it was carried out as far away from the media as possible.
As he approached the soundproof door to the Situation Room he paused for just a second. The president and Kennedy did not need to know he’d been on the phone making arrangements. Rapp opened the door and found President Hayes, Kennedy, Secretary of State Berg, Chief of Staff Jones and NSA Haik all watching the bank of television sets and talking on various phones.
The news was out that there was a bomb threat at the UN. People were streaming out of the bland Orwellian building in droves as police cruisers set up makeshift roadblocks to keep any vehicle from getting within two blocks of the world headquarters. Rapp took a second to admire his handiwork. It had been his idea to phone in the threat.
He approached Kennedy and bent over to whisper in her ear. “Our John Doe just got on a flight bound for Paris.”
Kennedy turned her chair so she could look Rapp in the eye. It was as if she had to make sure he wasn’t kidding before she’d believe it. She told the person on the phone that she had to go and hung up the phone. Reaching over she grabbed the president’s arm and in a voice loud enough so only he could hear she leaned in and repeated the news to Hayes. Rapp placed a hand on the back of Kennedy’s chair and bent over to listen.
Before the president could react to the news Rapp took a knee and said, “Sir, this is what I propose we do. The flight is headed to Paris and then on to Nice, where I assume our guy will be meeting Omar … whose yacht is still docked in Cannes. I can have a team in the air in less than an hour. We can get there before he lands and have everything set up.”
Hayes looked at Kennedy, who only shrugged her shoulders. “What about the French?”
“What about them?” asked Rapp.
The president had been thinking about how best to use the information to forestall the vote and now seemed like a good time. “I think we need to bring them in on this.”
Rapp’s expression turned from hopeful to hopeless. Never one to sugarcoat things, he said, “I think that’s a bad idea, sir.”
“Listen,” replied Hayes a bit testily, “the French are not going to roll over on this thing. As soon as the UN opens tomorrow morning they’re going to convene the Security Council, and they’re going to put this to a vote, and I’m not going to be able to veto it.”
“Why not?” asked a defiant Rapp.
“For starters because I actually do think the Palestinians should have a state.” Hayes firmly placed his forefinger in the palm of his hand. “And secondly because Crown Prince Faisal has asked me to.” Hayes ticked off his point by adding a second finger. “And in light of what happened to his cousin just a short while ago, I’m inclined to grant his request.”
