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Rapp sat back, a disappointed look on his face. "I thought you said you found him?"
"Discovered," said a tired McMahon, "that he entered the country would be more appropriate."
"Any idea where he is now?"
McMahon knew he was approaching an awkward point. "We have him boarding a Delta flight at LAX and heading to Atlanta."
"I assume you've got him getting off the plane in Atlanta?"
"Not yet. There's a problem with the surveillance tapes, but we expect to have it sorted out this morning."
"What about these two guys you picked up in Charleston?"
There it was. Things were about to get really uncomfortable. "We have them in custody," answered McMahon somewhat evasively.
"Where?" Rapp tilted his head suspiciously, sensing something in his friend's voice.
McMahon didn't look away, but he wanted to. Instead he got up and closed his door. "They're being held in the Fairfax County Adult Detention Center."
"You're not serious? They're here in town?" Rapp pointed at the floor.
"Listen before you fly off the handle there's a few things you need to know. For starters both these guys are naturalized citizens."
"I don't care if they're the president's long-lost brothers!" yelled Rapp. "They should be in the Navy brig down in Charleston or down in Guantanamo, or better yet, you should have handed them over to me."
"Mitch, they have a lawyer."
"A lawyer!" Rapp was suddenly on his feet. "You're not fucking serious."
"He's not just any lawyer he's a hotshot civil rights attorney from Atlanta with a lot of connections here in Washington. He went to the media with this late yesterday and "
Rapp cut him off. "I don't care who he is! This is ridiculous!"
"It wasn't my call," McMahon said defensively. "Trust me."
"Let me take one guess. They're Arabs, aren't they?"
McMahon nodded.
"Saudi?"
The FBI man nodded again.
"So you're telling me that two Saudi immigrants, undoubtedly Wahhabis, showed up in Charleston yesterday to pick up a nuclear bomb and the FBI decides to back down because they hire a lawyer?"
"We're not backing down, and it wasn't the Bureau's call. This is coming down from Justice."
"The attorney general?"
"More or less."
"The attorney general takes his orders from the president. Are you telling me this was the president's idea?"
"No. I know for a fact it wasn't the president's idea. It started somewhere else."
"Where?"
McMahon hesitated, not out of fear that he could get in trouble, but out of caution. "I'm going to tell you how this all got started, but I want you to look at it from more than just your perspective."
